#tw: home invasion

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Quiet

So you may or may not be an attempted hit by the most prolific hitman in the area...

Murdoch X GN!Reader, TW: blade, implied death, home invasion? Words: 927

You’re sitting at your desk, standing up as you move to exit your office. You straighten out your jacket, combing your fingers through your hair as the door closes behind you. The hallway is silent, pictures of your family and certificates you’ve earned over the years hanging on the walls, a soft shag rug underfoot. 

The living room is quiet, long heavy curtains covering the tall windows, lamps on their way to dim and fizzle out, small crackles of a dying fire. You kneel down, grabbing a poker from beside the fireplace, stoking the coals to try and reignite it. You hear what sounds like rustling behind you, and you turn around, holding the hot poker to defend yourself. “Is someone there??” There’s a silence that proceeds your call, and after a few moments of uneasiness, you go back to the fire. You throw a few logs onto the fire, standing back as it gets hotter, consuming the wood to turn it into coals as well. You throw your suit coat onto one of the couches, loosening your tie and tossing it on top of your coat.

“It’s probably nothing, right? And here I am, perfectly sane, talking to myself…”

The living room is quiet, once again. Your footsteps quiet as you discard your dress shoes, socks softly pattering against the wood floor. You move to a little cabinet to make yourself a drink, fixing your hair in the mirror as you wait for the kettle to boil. You swear you can make out the curtain moving behind you, despite not remembering opening the window yourself. You grab one of the hefty glass bottles, walking slowly towards the offending curtain. You try to not make a sound walking across the floor, tearing the curtain away to reveal: a vent underneath that was most likely pushing air to move it.

“Oh… well I guess I’m just a bit jumpy…”

You move the curtain back, focusing on the crackling fireplace as the kettle clicks, the sound of the water boiling mixing beautifully with the flames’ dance. The bottle returns to its place as you make your drink, occasionally looking up into the mirror to fix your hair that keeps moving in front of your face. “Goddamn hair, stay.”

You tuck it behind your ear once again as you stir your drink, looking up again as you see a figure behind you, a gloved hand covering your mouth before you can scream. In the dim light, you can’t make out his eyes behind his shades, but the wide grin on his face tells you all you need to know about his intentions.

“Now now… we can’t have any unwanted visitors during our time together, can we~? I need privacy to work, little fawn…”

Your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife, looking over his features in the event you make it out of this alive, you could get a decent police sketch out of it. He twirls the knife between his fingers, his hair tied into a half up, half down hairstyle. A maroon turtleneck is complimented by a black suit coat, a golden pin sitting over his left pec. Leather gloves cover the rest of what can be seen, his thumb blocking your airways, filling your nose with the scent of leather and blood.

“Shhh… the less you fight, the easier this is for both of us…” There’s very little you can do to fight, almost falling forward onto the cabinet before he catches you, making you lean against him as he tilts your chin up, grazing the blade against your skin. Your mind is swimming, the only thoughts being all your regrets, as tears pinprick in your eyes.

But then it all stops, suddenly you can breathe again as he removes his hand. You hold still, despite wanting to run, all due to the blade remaining at your throat. 

“Such a shame to see such a pretty thing erased from the face of the world, one that hasn’t been properly cherished…”

His hand returns to your chin, gently grazing along your jaw. The knife lowers, sheathed back in. 

“But perhaps if you were to just go missing… I still get paid, and you can be treated like the darling fawn you are… How does that sound~?”

You just look at him, astonished he could be flirting with you in this sort of scenario.

“Someone wa-ants me dead??”

“Yes, and paid quite the hefty sum to make sure it follows through. And as much as I enjoy money, I simply can’t let something this easy on the eyes to go to waste…~”

It takes a lot of wide eyed pondering, thinking about how much you’re abandoning, but you’re abandoning it all either way. But one is significantly more appealing than the other. You turn around, seeing him loom over you as you’re cornered against the cabinet.

“...and you won’t kill me if I go with you…?”

“Absolutely not, killer’s oath, sweetheart~”

He draws a heart and crosses with his knife in the air over his own heart, that same grin he had when this whole interaction started now returning. He stands up, now seeing him at his full height. A golden medallion reflecting what little light is in the room, but you make out a few of the antler-like details.

“...fine. Not like I have much of a choice anyways…”

“I knew you would come around~”

You squeak as he grabs your hand, walking you out of your building and into the night, never to be seen again.

[dipplinduo]

So, I'll admit that I've been really behind on your Sweet & Sour Dipplin fic (I stopped at Chapter 5). But I managed to binge read all the way to the current chapter in 2-3 hours and some eye pain and I gotta say I was floored by all the events that happened since then. It was like getting hit by a massive whirlwind of plot and emotions that I certainly enjoyed! But one of the biggest questions I've got to ask is this:

"Will Juliana ever learn to lock her door when at least 3 people told her to upfront lol?"

TW: mentions of home invasion/attempted robbery, TW is italicized if you want to skip over the mentions

Oh my god I love the fact you legit got that into it??? But also pls take care of yourself!!! And xDD I'm glad it's enjoyable

Okay so the backstory on the door locking:

A reader pointed it out in a comment once that Juliana's door seemed to be unlocked, and I laughed because it was 100% me unconsciously not accounting for it as someone who's been too trusting with unlocked doors myself LOL. I have the funniest story about how I learned my lesson in a "this is messed up, but since everything turned out okay it's lowkey a dark humor story" kind of way.

The long story short is it involves me inadvertently experiencing home invasion/attempted robbery when living with friends in what was a very safe building around like 3AM a few years ago. We and many others had the habits of keeping our doors unlocked. I inadvertently scared the intruders away the night they snuck in and actually entered my room when I happened to be sitting up in bed (they assumed I was asleep). I was tired, blind, and sassy and I assumed the silhouettes in the dark was one of my suitemates being clingy because they were particularly attached to my hip that day, and I just let out an exasperated "Yeah??" before they bolted. Imagine my horror when I put two and two together and realized that I just casually talked to intruders so nonchalantly. The cop that interviewed me was like "BRO"💀

(Real talk: I & my suitemates got very lucky, and although this is a MUCH longer story, everyone remained safe, nothing of ours stolen, what WAS stolen in other suites was recovered, and the cops caught 'em. If you're ever in a situation like this, stay safe & call 911 once you realize what's happening!! They can track your location even if you're unable to talk.)

So yeah! Lock your doors. Always. :D

I'm obviously not gonna have what happened to me happen to Juliana, though. I may make something much more story appropriate happen with it instead, if anything! But this ask has me thinking of a few possibilities now.

[experimentalfma]

@alchemic-elric || for hughes ❛ it was a nightmare, that’s all. ❜

Screams broke through the still silence of the night, the horror palpable in the voices of a woman and a child. Something silverly and metallic glinted in the cold moonlight, though most of it remained lost in the shadow of the masked man holding it towards them.

A second man stepped around from behind Gracia after giving the ropes tying her to a kitchen chair one final tug to keep them tight and in place. Elicia sat stock still in a second chair beside her, frozen in place by fear even if she weren't also bound just as tightly. Tears streamed down her face as she only turned her eyes toward her mother in hopes of reassurance.

But before Gracia could get out a word to either comfort her daughter or confront the two home invaders, the front door burst open, and Hughes rushed inside. He barely paused long enough for his eyes to narrow at the horrific sight that greeted him before his gun was instinctively in his hand and pointed toward the man who had a weapon pointed at his family.

"Get away from them!" he demanded through gritted teeth. Though he kept his sharp gaze trained on the man who seemed to be a greater threat, he tried to keep a peripheral view on the second man and his wife and daughter.

The man with the weapon never turned away from his victims, instead raising it so that the light flashed off the barrel of a gun. "You made me do this," his voice rasped. And without giving Hughes a chance to react, two loud bangs left no question about what he'd come here to do.

There was no chance to stop him. The second the man had raised his arm, Hughes's finger was on the trigger, aim focused and steady. But nothing happened. The thundering sound wasn't from his gun. The two chairs crashed to the ground, and dark puddles of blood began to slowly spread across the floor, clearly visible around the gunman, even in the dark. The second man stepped casually out of the way as if to keep his shoes clean.

What happened next was a blur. The first man finally turned toward Hughes, raising an accusatory finger toward him. Though his jaw moved under his mask, Hughes couldn't hear a word of it over his own anguished cries. The empty clicks of the gun as he tried again and again to pull the trigger were drowned out completely.

Unit there was another deafening bang and a flash, and a heavy impact in Hughes's chest knocked him to the ground. The gun flew from his hand and skittered across the floor as the man who shot him stalked toward him, towering over him as his vision began to go dark. "You should have learned to mind your own business." There was a sneer in the man's voice as he raised the gun a second time and leveled it down toward Hughes's head. "Just remember your family would have been fine if you had." Another bang and everything went black.

Hughes shot bolt upright in his chair, his face pale and sheened with sweat. His breath coming in hard gasps, he looked wildly around the room for the two unknown men. Instead, his gaze settled on a familiar and much more welcome face not far from his desk. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steady the staccato of his racing heart.

When Ed reassured him that it was just a nightmare, Hughes offered him a weak smile in response. "Yeah, I'd sure say so. All of those late nights on the case I'm working on must be catching up with me." He shook his head slowly and ran his hand back through his damp hair.

He'd been up deep into the night the for almost a week now working on an investigation on a string of deadly home invasions, and the lack of sleep had finally gotten the better of him if he'd fallen asleep on his desk. He'd managed to sneak away for an hour or so for dinner with Gracia and Elicia, but afterwards, he had come right back to the office to review additional evidence. They had to be getting close to catching whoever was responsible, and once they did, maybe he'd take a few days off to spend some time with his family. For now, he would just glance at the photo of the three of them smiling together on his desk and reassure himself that his wife and daughter were fine and nothing would happen to them while he was at work.

Trying to pull himself back into the waking world and the task at hand, he shifted in his chair so that he could face Ed more fully. "Anyway, I'm sure you've got something else in mind than seeing me wake up from a nightmare." He managed a casual shrug. "Anything I can help you with?"

[thefallenangelsgang]

PTSD nightmares are... a nightmare (ba dum tssss) (I'm coping with comedy)

(gen Trigger Warning, I don't get into my trauma but I bitch about how my brain processes it)

I hate the nonsensical nature of them, I hate that they package my trauma in an abstract form (no no no you don't get to recollect the things that traumatized you, you get to experience the fear and anxiety in new fun ways!), and I hate that they always wake me up at inconvenient times. It's 4 am, my heart is racing, and I'm triggered. I just want to go to bed.

One of the worst parts but also my saving grace (real double edged sword here jfc) is that I almost exclusively lucid dream. Over the years its gotten less pronounced, I used to manually control my dreams a LOT as a kid, but I still can if I need to. Nowadays I'm more likely to let a narrative play out. It is important though that I am choosing not to interact with the dream. I retain some sense of control which makes it fun when the logic breaks and my brain goes "excuse me!" and fixes it in real time but very much NOT FUN when I'm experiencing horrors and I am in control of myself (or whatever character I am playing) (one fun time I was Ryan Reynolds but that's a story about my not normal arachnophobia and the inherent strangeness of a overcast suburban neighborhood)

It seems though my brain has adapted over the years. It sounds ridiculous but the dreams have gotten narratively more- not logical but reasonable. I could read a short story about my dreams and understand the plot and setting even if its a story about a residential development (that kinda looks like my grandmother's neighborhood) surrounded by impossibly high, sheer concrete walls. And we aren't talking like hehe 8ft walls you see in idk a prison. We're talking hundreds of feet tall and wide. I could read that and get real stupid and salivate over themes and shit. Cause yeah, the theme is feeling TRAPPED and that there is no ESCAPE and my brain is using chemical warfare in the literal sense TO HURT ME

Lucid dreaming also makes the nightmares worse because I can dissect that shit in real time. I can go "mmmm this is giving me anxiety and I think I know why (:" while I can feel my heart racing out of my chest.

The one saving grace is that I can force myself awake if need be and usually my brain will automatically do it if shit's getting wild (ie I am in danger of crying in the middle of the night like I'm 6 again) but then I end up sitting in the dark (cause my pupils are dilated to hell from fear(dark flavored) so I can't turn on my lights) at 4 am, triggered and only getting more triggered by sitting in the dark alone with my thoughts.

So let's go to Tumblr and rant about trauma until the images of those fucking Clowns(?) gets out of my brain. (I don't have clown trauma? I've never had clown trauma? I also don't have home invasion trauma but that was more a metaphor for loss of control. Still confused why clowns were involved. Also confused why my brain chose to make the setting SciFi dystopia but here we are)

(also these weren't like neon stupid wig and lots of face paint clowns. These were like mime/street performer esque clowns, far more understated. Normal people doing clown shit (had a great shot of one doing a card trick outside a window that I should kick over to my film friends) with a lil classic clown make up. YOU KNOW THAT ROBIN WILLIAMS PHOTO OF HIM AS A STREET MIME, FUCKING THAT)

(I REALLY JUST WANT TO GO BACK TO SLEEP)

[pricetagged]

idk I just torturing simon and I love the idea of him—at some stage of his life, idk maybe immediately after he's declared dead— not having anywhere to stay.

His residence in Manchester got gutted and sold, greedy estate agents and solicitors picking it apart as soon as they got the death notice.

He could rent hotel rooms. Stay in the barracks. But sometimes he just needs—space. Familiarity. Simon Riley is dead and buried, but not buried deep enough.

So he goes back to his old house. He knows every nook and cranny. Knows which floorboards creak and which doors get stuck. He'll just cosy away in the attic and come out when the new tenant is at work, no problem. Barracks-living, only the other person won't know. It'll only be for a few weeks at a time—

—but he catches sight of you. The new tenant. Sweet little thing who saw the ugly, empty shell and decided it was for her.

Not a lot of money, no. But you've tried to make a home here. Decorated over the gouges and scars, filled the empty spaces with little signs of life.

You've taken such good care of the place. You're taking such good care of it, all by yourself. Off to work in the morning, and home late at night when it's far too dark and he knows the latch isn't as secure as it should be —kicked and shouldered too many times when his mum would work the courage to kick out his da—

So you need him. You're not saying it in words, but what is he meant to think when he sees how you leave the windows open all through the day and night? When you shuffle about on your weekends with only a playlist or podcast for company?

You need him. Good thing he's already there.

Go read this thing by gougie if u like the 'there's someone living here' thing - they do it sooooo much better

[drmatildamason]

Matilda usually went out during the day, at least if she had told her family she had a shift she would, so that no one got suspicious. This morning though she just…hadn’t been able to do it. Having gotten dressed, put her coat on, and opened the front door, her brain screamed at her to retreat which was how she found her way onto the sofa. Underneath a blanket face in a pillow, still wearing her coat. She’d at least had the thought to take her shoes off before putting her feet on the sofa so that was something. At some point she must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew there was a huge weight slamming into her, the jolt making her cry out in shock. “Please don’t kill me, take anything you want, I don’t have money…” she screamed, fearing she was being robbed, before hearing her brother’s voice along with the familiar nickname. Shit. It was Duke, of course it was, how could she have been such an idiot. “Um…yes…hello…” trying to behave normally as she stuck her head out from under the blanket. “What are you doing here?” 

closed starter for @drmatildamason

taking stuff to matilda's had become something of a routine. sure, sometimes it was literally just an excuse to see his baby sister, but charlie didn't think that had to be a bad thing. she'd been off studying for ages and he'd spent much of his life away from home. "i know, buddy. but she's not gonna be in, so you gotta be calm, okay?" he gave the extremely excitable retriever at his side an affectionate pet, knocked twice out of courtesy and then unlocked the door, ushering duke in first. no sooner were the bags set down in the kitchen did charlie realise duke had made a beeline for the lump on the couch. "... mattie?" he started cautiously towards the couch, hoping to god it was her and not some random he had not signed up to deal with.

[i-heart-slashers]

Unknown Caller

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Billy x Female!Reader x Stu

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Alone on a quiet night, you receive a late-night call from you boyfriends, Billy and Stu, who playfully taunt you using the voice modulator. When the duo reveals they are closer than you think, you barely has time to react before they unlock the door with a stolen key and force their way inside.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.3k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Stalking/Home Invasion Themes. Suggested Violence/Menace. Suggestive Content. Psychological Tension. Manhandling. Biting. Polyarmory. Established Relationship.

The glow of the TV flickers across the dimly lit living room as you stretch out on the couch, absently flipping through channels. The quiet hum of late-night programming fills the space, lulling you into a comfortable daze—until your phone buzzes against the coffee table.

Unknown number.

With an exaggerated sigh, you pick up. "Hello?" you answer, voice dripping with false innocence just in case it's someone calling for your parents.

A familiar, distorted voice purrs, "What's your favorite scary mo—"

"Billy, I swear to God, if you call me with that voice modulator one more time—" You sigh, flicking through channels on the TV with nothing good to watch.

There's a beat of silence, then an audible exhale on the other end. "How do you always know?"

A second voice, more excitable, crackles through the speaker. "Maybe 'cause you're obsessed, dude."

"Says the guy who made me call her," Billy mutters, annoyed, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice for his best friend.

You roll your eyes at your boyfriends; this wasn't the first nor last time they'd try this. "What do you two idiots want?"

There's some shuffling on the line before Stu takes over. "Oh, not much. Just thought we'd check in." the tone of his voice wasn't nonchalant. It was lingering — they were up to something.

You frown, shifting upright as you place the remote on the coffee table, now on high alert and already having a feeling about where this is going. "Check in from where?"

Billy's voice drops, amusement and a hint of dark excitement laced through every word. "Outside." he purrs, and you can hear the subtle sounds of their breaths and footsteps over the phone.

Your stomach tightens at the simplicity of his answer. "Outside where?"

"Your house."

You lurch forward, pulling the curtain aside slightly as you look outside, checking the area. The yard is dark, the street silent, but that doesn't mean anything—not with them.

"You were gonna break in, weren't you?" you accuse, already knowing the answer. They knew you were alone tonight, your parents were at some get-together with their friends.

"Technically, it's not breaking in if we have a key," Stu sing-songs almost mockingly.

Your breath catches both confusion and disbelief. "You do not have a—"

The soft click of your front door unlocking echoes through the quiet house as your pulse stutters.

The door swings open slowly, revealing Stu's ever-present grin as he steps inside like he owns the place. Billy follows right behind, closing the door with a deliberate slowness. Their eyes gleam with mischief as they take in your reaction.

"Surprise!" Stu announces, arms spread wide as he rushes to you and you run much like the victim in every horror movie. Leaving the taller boy to chance and tackle you to the couch, pinning you under his weight.

"Are you two serious?" You groan as Stu's hands are tight around your wrists holding them above your head on the couch, leaving you squirming and glaring. "I could have called the cops!"

Billy tilts his head, smirk widening as he takes his time to get to the couch, leaving your 'capture' up to Stu. "What's wrong? Didn't expect company?"

"Not uninvited company who thinks home invasion is flirting!" you snap, annoyed at being manhandled, though the stirring in your stomach disagrees with that sentiment.

Stu lets an exaggerated sigh into your neck, biting the skin there. Stretching himself over your body like he belongs there. "Aw, c'mon, babe. You love us."

Billy leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable. "And you wouldn't call the cops on us."

You try to free your arms from Stu's bruising grip, meeting Billy's gaze with a challenge. "And why not?"

He doesn't blink as he smirks, his dark gaze roaming your body under Stu, his inner thoughts and desires clear. "Because then we'd have to teach you a lesson."

Stu grins, tossing a look at his best friend before they both glance back at you with matching grins of amusement. "A really fun lesson."

Your heart pounds—not entirely from fear.

The air in the room thickens a cocktail of tension and something dangerously enticing. Stu's weight presses you deeper into the couch, his teeth grazing your neck again—harder this time, just enough to make you gasp.

Billy pushes off the wall, his slow, deliberate steps closing the distance until he looms over you both, his shadow stretching across the flickering TV screen.

"Lesson, huh?" you manage, voice sharp despite how your body betrays you, squirming less out of resistance now and more out of instinct. "What's that gonna look like, Billy? You gonna bore me to death with another movie rant?"

Billy's smirk twists into something darker, his eyes glinting with that unhinged edge you've learned to both dread and crave. He crouches beside the couch, close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

"Oh, I've got better ideas than that," he murmurs, voice low and syrupy with menace. "But you keep running that mouth, and I might let Stu gag you instead."

Stu snickers, shifting so his knee nudges between your thighs, his grip on your wrists tightening as he leans in to whisper against your ear. "I vote gag. Bet you'd look real pretty with something stuffed in there." His breath is hot, his tone teasing, but there's a gleam in his eyes that says he's only half-joking.

You roll your eyes huffing, fighting the flush creeping up your neck. "You two are psychopaths. You know that, right?"

"Only for you," Stu chirps, nipping at your earlobe before glancing at Billy for approval—like a kid showing off a new trick.

Billy's gaze doesn't waver, locked on yours as his fingers trail down your jaw, lingering at your throat. "Psychopaths who know exactly what you like," he says, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point, feeling it jump.

The words hang there, heavy and loaded, and for a moment, the room feels like it's holding its breath. The TV drones on in the background—some cheesy slasher flick, the kind they'd mock relentlessly, but it's drowned out by the thudding in your chest.

You could fight harder, scream, kick, call their bluff. But you don't. And they know you won't. "Fine," you say at last, voice steady despite the chaos they've sparked in you. "Now what?"

Stu's grin widens, victorious, and he releases your wrists only to slide his hands down your arms, settling them on your hips. "Now," he says, voice dripping with glee, "we have some fun. House is ours tonight, right?"

Billy straightens up, his expression unreadable but his intent clear as he tilts his head toward the stairs. "Upstairs," he commands, already moving like he owns the place. "Unless you'd rather we drag you."

You scoff, shoving Stu off you with a mix of annoyance and adrenaline-fueled excitement. "You wish," you mutter, brushing past them both as you head for the stairs, their eyes burning into your back.

Halfway up, you pause, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk of your own. "But don't think I'm making this easy for you."

Stu laughs, bounding up after you like an eager puppy. At the same time, Billy follows at a slower pace, his stare predatory and patient. "Oh, babe," Stu calls, voice laced with dark promise, "we wouldn't have it any other way."

The door to your room creaks open, and as the three of you step inside, the night stretches out before you—equal parts game, nightmare, and something neither of them will let you forget come morning.

The lock clicks shut behind Billy, and in the dim glow of your bedroom, their shadows loom larger than life. Just the way you like it.

[terrence-silver]

You know the night in CK in S5 where Terry gets his home invaded, could you rewrite the night but with a heavily pregnant beloved?

The Honorable Thing To Do.

Mike Barnes, Johnny Lawrence, Chozen Toguchi (POV) and the non-shippy presence of Reader!Beloved x Terry Silver (Only Mentioned).

Inspired by this post.

―

-"Man, this asshole has more statues than a Vegas casino."-

Johnny Lawrence remarks stumbling through the main pathway of a vast estate comprised of an immaculate trimmed green lawn that resembled a carpet fenced in from all sides by tall, palatial walls and an unusual amount of marble figures dotting the grassy spaciousness of the garden that followed them along the eternity of the grounds, casting long, dark shadows in the cover of night — pillars of carved, pale stone illuminated by a faint moonlight, vines coiling around ankles and wrists, growing in the crevices and curves of sharp, stony edges, seeming like they were deliberately allowed to grow there by a skilled, devoted gardener instead of being old, mossy and unkempt. It was sleek.

A clearly new addition to the fortress of the dragon.

It was quiet, too quiet, as they snuck in, or at least tried to, somehow, in their inebriated state, the sound of their footsteps along the tiled pavement echoed back as uncharacteristically loud in his ears. What struck Chozen the most, he supposed, that they were all chiseled images of women made out of white granite and that the enemy’s domain, well, it was undeniably beautiful, all palm trees, perfectly kept magnolia bushes, decorative rocks, vines and a sleek, colossal front door in front of them, made from what seemed like polished, pitch black Oak. This was it. End of the line. Mike Barnes wordlessly lifts his leg on instinct, intending to crash through with a kick only to be stopped by a slurring Johnny. One too many drinks tonight. No good. The feeling here wasn’t good either. Not what Chozen expected it to be going in. Too serene. Too lulling. Like the quiet before the storm. Like an ambush. A trap on the enemy's own turf and territory. Chozen carefully leans against the surface of the mansion’s entrance, intent on listening. Trying to catch a sound from the great indoors. Complete and utter quietude. He’d almost prefer it if he’d catch the sound of something. Anything. -"No, no, no. That looks heavy as shit. You’ll break your foot."- Johnny chastises, shoving Mike out of the way, getting into a stance of his own instead. -"I’ll do it."- He offers blatantly, and no, not smart, Chozen concludes. They weren't smart right now. They were drunk. Not drunk enough to not be aware they were drunk. Last thing they needed was to trigger whatever hidden alarm system this manor had in place by breaking down the front door and causing enough noise to wake up half of the city. For a man of this much abundance to leave his home unattended, it just wasn’t feasible, but to his surprise, the palm of his hand resting on the dark wood moves and the door slides ajar along with it.

Unlocked?

And no one at home?

Why?

If it the questions didn’t compound skyhigh by then, they’d certainly tumble over right there and then, like a tower made out of cards.

He leads the way, figuring someone had to, and he gestures, ushering the two men behind him into the darkness, minding his steps trying to keep their balance along the surface of the floor that blurred and narrowed through the haziness of his eyesight, causing him to stumbling into what seemed like an open, marble floor lobby descending into small winding corridors, somewhat labyrinthian in nature, if memory served from his last visit here. Many rooms. Many cameras. Many hidden places. Many weapons, Chozen reminds himself, nearly jumping if only due to a momentary distraction, fingers squeezed into fists on the ready, long shadows cast by the reflection of the lobby’s mirrors concealing the silhouette of a person, standing in the doorway quietly. Not large enough to be Silver himself, but nonetheless, a somebody. His intuition told him it was too silent on premises; that something about that was innately suspicious, and as if on cue, Lawrence’s reaction is the loudest, breaking through the noiselessness of the hall, cutting like a knife, putting all three of them on immediate alert and the shadow shaped like a person stirs and moves, head and shoulders perfectly sharp in outlines against the light  coming in from the garden, the body shapeless, a black blur in the murky dimness of the entrance foyer. The face? Concealed and pitch black. Seemingly almost entirely featureless, save for the tip of tip of a nose. The outline of a mouth. Someone who deliberately avoided moving to, in equal measure, avoid detection. -"Holy shit!"- Johnny yelps, staggering forward, eyes squinty, like he was trying to make out the details in front of him and failing to do so with precision, only for his nostrils to widen with surprise, leaving Chozen to stare back and forth between him and the blackness at the edge of the immense atrium. -"What’s this? Molly Ringwald in ‘For Keeps’ meets the Poltergeist or some shit?"- Johnny stutters and the confusion deepens, swirling, the reference an unknown, and quickly rendered irrelevant once Chozen catches the outline of a hand on a torso traveling lower, landing on what he recognized as a belly. The airflow of breath hitches in his throat. There was nobody here but a woman in a wide nightgown, halfway embracing herself for comfort, in an obvious bout of anxiety judging by her body language.

Someone terrified of them and trying not to show it.

-"I’ll call the police."-

She says, trying for an obvious air of firmness in an attempt to intimidate them, but her voice coming through shaky. Scared. Her demand unintentionally relayed more as a plea, less like a threat. The needle of instant regret is there, looming, pinching something inside of Chozen, digging beneath layers of skin.

Hostage?

No, no. Something else. A hostage would immediately run over, pleading for help.

Begging to be rescued.

-"He keeping you here by force or something!? Okay, where’s the cameras?"- 

Johnny bombastically voices his exact concerns, spewing fire, staring daggers at the corners of the walls looking for blinking red lights watching them from some hidden security room, practically spitting his words and Mike brushes past him, ever the irritant, nearly crashing into him, unfettered, voice gruff and unimpressed, his footsteps loud, wide and booming. Impatient. Determined. Like he intended to demolish the place just for the sake of doing so, irregardless if the owner was present to see it or not, perhaps precisely because he wasn't present to see it or even stop it, giving him no fighting chance, intending to strike from the back, unexpected, kicking below the belt. Aggrieved former student. Lots of anger. He leads the way, practically charging as he ranted in stride, marching deeper into the foyer.

-"I know this guy’s tricks and he’s full of them! A subversion. To distract us. Don’t fall for it! He did worse crap for far less! But, this one’s really bottom of the barrel! Lets go!"-

The needle presses on invisibly and Chozen reaches forward, running after Barnes before he could do something bad, grabbing his forearm, stopping him. Dragging him back. The garden light illuminated by solar pipes and flares casts a ray of distant, pale brightness on the human shaped silhouette in front of them, and all Chozen sees is dignity veiled by fear, frozen in place. This was the shadow’s home and it didn’t intend to flinch, but was nonetheless too frightened and too alone to fight back. This was someone important. To Silver. The hand on the end of its torso guarding someone even more special. -"No."- His demand is final. Simple.

-"His woman."-

He explains hastily, watching Barnes’ face grow from a mask of fury to complete and utter bafflement, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, mouth sliding agape, his wrath caught in a stalemate, having nowhere to go or to be channeled, Barnes expresses it by yanking his hand free and pacing vigorously, not unlike someone trying to walk off the side effects of their intoxication. Clear their head. This was Terry Silver’s woman and his unborn child they just stumbled upon. Johnny approaches him in the midst of Barnes doing exasperated circles around the room, head thrown back and he looks at Chozen, really looks at him, extending his arm forward, pointing at the person who’s acquaintance they accidentally made. Chozen imagines a baby’s crib, standing in a bedroom. A curtain. Terry Silver looming above it. Watching out into the night. He lied. He lied when they talked about their true ambitions. When Silver said his one regret was not having any children to continue his legacy. It was obvious now. He lied, because he didn't want anyone to know. Not the genuine facts of the matter. Didn't want anyone to jeopardize any of it. When a man starts lying about things in order to hide them, a man's keeping a weakness hidden, willing to do anything and everything to avoid having it be exploited by outside forces. Chozen closes his eyes, contemplating things. Big mistake. Coming here. Huge. -"The guy’s like eighty!"- Johnny shouts, outraged. Sato was eighty too at one point in time and he had entertainers come over at the end of every work week to pour his Sake too. Being old meant nothing. The puzzle pieces, though. They fall into place. Creating a cohesive picture. An understanding. An understanding only confirmed once the face of the person in front of them is partially illuminated from a nearby window and the recognition is near instant. It hits him like a flash of lightning. -"All over the garden."- Chozen attempts to explain, certain he wouldn’t be outright understood anyway that he was trying to tell them that they bypassed this silhouette at least half a dozen times, only in the form of carved marble. Silver had filled the premises of his estate with her likeness. Unbidden, Kumiko comes to mind and all the ways their village used to be plastered with the home made variation of posters whenever she’d perform during celebrations. She too, was loved. By everyone.

-"His woman."-

He carefully points to her and then lower, to the protective shield of her hand and what it was hiding.

At this point, Chozen’s whispering, as if though him speaking could actually disrupt the nap of the unborn in the womb, catching himself doing it, feeling the tipsiness engulf him like a swift tide and finding the gesture silly.

 -"His baby."-  

Johnny scoffs in a mixture of disbelief, drunkenness, snark and the obvious feeling of being entirely at a loss for words, joining an exasperated Mike in their nervous, anger-fueled, partially embarrassed pacing. Sensitive topic? Due to his and Carmen-san’s blessing on the way? They should go. They should go now. You lift up a nearby object from a nearby commode, placing it over your head, defensively; a warning to anyone, that if they step closer, or if they refuse to listen to the given demands, there was a blunt object at hand on the ready, even though, by the looks of you, the rounded, swollen shape of your belly outlining and rounding the edges of your night gown, Chozen was certain you’d attack no one and certainly not three men, calling your bluff. That you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and that grabbing what seemed like a metal, decorative candle holder was simply meant to highlight your horror and desperation and how badly you wanted to be left alone, like a cornered animal bearing its teeth. Your voice squeaks and instinctively, Chozen  lifts his hands up, trying to pacify you. Assure you that he wouldn’t. He wouldn't hurt you and he wouldn't let anyone else hurt you either. He left the path of dishonor behind a long time ago, taking a step back, wanting to disappear as uneventfully as possible, fingers hooking themselves into the seams of Johnny’s sleeve and dragging him back with himself too, once you plead, eyes shimmery in the darkness, brightened by the presence of suppressed tears. Daniel and Amanda-san never told him about the existence woman and they lived here for decades. Did they know at all? -"Please, leave. Please."- You beg, out of breath, standing your ground frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, looking like it hurt to stand as long as you were standing in only your house slippers burdened under the weight of your own belly propped up with one arm. Barnes explodes, lounging forward, impatience and impulsiveness culminating in a roar fire that was harder and harder to put out by the minute, his legs floundering mid-movement. Like mud and water, it wasn't good putting together a drunk, pissed off man who's own family was under fire and the family of the man who did it all. Barnes was out for blood. Smelled it like a clumsy, starved shark.

-"I had enough of this crap! Had a couple of drinks, yeah, okay, but I’m not getting conned like this! Where is he!? What hole did he crawl into!? She could be literally anyone and we’re falling for the oldest trick in the book! You think paying an actor stand-in is beneath him!? Nothing’s beneath him! He’s the father of lies!"-

Chozen’s legs move on their own accord and without him even having the chance to think, and before he knows it, he’s cut off Mike’s way, placing his body in front of him like a barrier and his hand to the man’s chest, letting him go no further. There would be days for revenge. But, it would be not this day. This night. Decades of striving to make things right with one’s soul wouldn’t be lost tonight. Chozen invested too much in his soul to drag it through the gutter all over again. -"No! We’re leaving. Honorable thing to do."- He whispers, head bent, the open palm of his hand never flinching from the surface of Barnes’ chest heaving with irritation and then ultimately, cooling down in the cloud of surrender, brows furrowed like he loathed to be told what to do They came here to deal with Silver, fueled by the euphoria of liquid courage, not antagonize a sobbing, pregnant woman. Barnes' features dropped like he was willing to begrudgingly accept that.

Chozen turns to you, speaking softly. Slowly.

-"Our business not with you."-

He couldn’t tell what you looked like. Not entirely. Not in this lack of light.

But, he swears he spots the wave of relief wash over you through a blur.

He bows with his full body facing forward, bent towards you, feeling it’s the correct gesture, throwing in a tiny smile for good measure, wondering if it'll alleviate the tension in the air. Not come off as mockery. As disingenious. The battle is always between the combatants.  Involving the innocent — makes the battle dirty. Low. Cheapens the victory. Cheapens even the act of participation itself.

Chozen reminded himself that mantra every day for thirty years.

 -"Apologies for intrusion."-

He excuses himself in a clipped manner, lifting his lower body up just as quickly as he paid his respects and Chozen’s out the door, dragging the two fools along with him, giving one last quick bow once his foot stepped over the precipice, his hand closing the door behind him, watching you lower the candelabra, your shoulders suddenly dropping. -"Have a pleasant evening. Gomenasai."- He throws in a final line, speaking Japanese with the conviction that it sounded more sincere and profound than a mere 'Sorry' in English, closing the entrance to the mansion with a loud thud and exhaling, suddenly realizing he’s been keeping his breath for far too long and that Barnes and Lawrence were standing by his side, humbled, eying the door with incredulity, appearing defeated, halfway on the verge of barging back inside, halfway on the verge of questioning what drove them to come here in the first place, the answer being drinks. Mostly the drinks. Terry Silver would come for them for this, Chozen knew, if for any reason, then simply for daring to frighten someone his --- and he paces, walking away from the marble front porch, realizing he needed to be ready. They all needed to be ready. There would be war. For every single tear you cried here tonight. For every bit of stress you suffered. Possibly even the very fact that they saw you and discovered your existence in the first place when it was so obvious now the enemy wanted you hidden. Terry Silver wanted you hidden. -"That’s some bullshit!"- Johnny huffs, protesting catching up with him, Barnes right on his tail, appearing gloomy, eyes dark and distant. The estate grounds open up around them and there they are, marble women with marble eyes, staring into nothing. Lawrence stares at them with suspicion, gaze oscillating between watching the premises lest something came alive and jumped them from the darkness and being in Chozen’s ear, ranting feverishly in a quick stride. Your image surrounds the whole manor. Loved. You must've been very loved. -"I didn’t even know the ponytailed prick had a chick and a bun in the oven!"- Hai. Exactly. Precisely. Treasure’s no longer a treasure if everyone has a key to its keep. If everyone knows where it's buried. Chozen shakes his head, feeling his lips press into a firm line; something inside of him told him there would be consequences for this. A payback. A settling of the scores. And this time around, a lot more than just Barnes’ livelihood would burn and he couldn’t decide if Silver was more dangerous while he seemingly didn’t have who to lose or now that they discovered that he has.

 -"That’s whole point. Not to know."- 

He reaffirms humorlessly, slipping into the night.

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 16. Rescue

Prev - Masterlist

Content: giant/tiny, cages, pet trope, power dynamic, home invasion, guns, death threat, fear of heights, being mocked

Pov: Soap Scrub

Poll Winner: Pet liberation rescue

Note: The last chapter ended up being over 7000 words so I decided to split it into two parts so there will be another chapter after this one :)

Special thanks to @alittlewhump for helping me edit <3 thank you

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!

—

The weeks blur together with no chances to escape. You’ve almost stopped trying. Ashley doesn’t leave any cracks or openings to even think about slipping past her. You’ve stopped looking for them, too tired to keep up with being constantly alert. 

The days are mostly the same. Ashley spends a lot of her time at work, and when she gets home she usually coddles Hamster and leaves you alone. Thankfully. Maybe she’s gotten bored of you, only using you for her photoshoots. You’re just another prop to her.

Sometimes she brings friends over who all coo over Hamster, and often torment you. None of them will help you either. They don’t seem to like your bitter attitude. That’s not how pets are supposed to act apparently. 

You can’t tell if you’re successfully talking Hamster into freeing you, or if she enjoys keeping you locked up as much as Ashley does. Every time you mention anything Hamster shakes her head and stares at you with that stupid love struck smile on her face. You would think you could use her crush to your advantage, but so far it just makes her more reluctant to let you go. Being mean to her doesn’t work either because it puts you on Ashley’s bad side, and you end up being isolated. So you opt with trying to get Hamster to side with you. 

You’re afraid the plan is a lost cause, but all you can do is keep working on getting Hamster to help you. She’s interested in meeting more people your size, so that's what you usually tell her about in hopes she’ll get curious enough to go with you someday. 

Tonight is like any other. Ashley has Hamster cuddled up to her on the couch while they watch a sappy romance movie. You’re as hidden as you can be inside the cage, but admittedly you’re also watching the screen from an angle since the t.v. is in view from the kitchen counter. 

The movie is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door. Ashley gets up to put Hamster away in her cage, walking over to answer it.

The door flies open, almost hitting her as she springs backwards. Three masked strangers rush into the house, surrounding her. One of them grabs her from behind with a gun pointed to her head, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Scream and we’ll shoot,” they hiss into her ear. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! 

You nestle down further into the bedding, but you have nowhere to go if they want to grab you. It's hot and suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe under the weight of it smothering you. 

Looking through the haze of the fluff you see Hamster staring openly with no cover. Making herself an easy target with her mouth gaped open in shock. She doesn’t move. She makes no attempt to hide herself at all. 

Stupid girl! 

She takes a breath to scream and your whole body clenches, trying to ready yourself to be noticed.

When Hamster shrieks, Ashley struggles and begs them to leave Hamster alone. Ashley is immediately shoved out of sight by two of the humans while the third looks to see where the source of the shrill scream came from. 

The intruder walks up to Hamster’s cage, and when they see her they pull their mask down to reveal a pale freckled face. Concern written all over it. “Hey. Shh, it's okay. We’re not here to hurt you. I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”

Hamster scrambles back, tripping over fluff. She reaches her arm out towards the room Ashley was forced into, and looks back to the human while bawling. The message is as clear as usual, that Hamster wants Ashley. 

“She’ll be okay. I’m sorry you can’t see her, but they won’t hurt her. I need to know where the other boy your size is.” The human makes no moves to give Hamster what she wants. 

Hamster’s wide eyes flick towards your cage, and she shakes her head. It’s too late, the human already knows that’s where you’re hidden and peers through the bars to try to find you. Their brown eyes search every corner of the cage as their voice overwhelms you. “Hey. I’m here to help you. Are you in there?”

They must see you shaking because their gaze is concerningly close to where you’re hiding underneath the bedding. You don’t believe them for a second and refuse to move from the spot to let them know where you are. 

One of the other humans pokes their head out from the hallway, and says, “They’re in the cages. Just the two.” 

You’re a fool to think you could go unnoticed at this point. Dread trickles throughout your body, and you have nothing to grab onto to steady yourself. Nothing but white fluff between your fists. 

The human next to you nods once, just a flick of their chin, then picks up both of your cages by the handles at the top. Your stomach churns from the sudden shift of gravity. You cover your mouth with your hands to stay quiet, but Hamster has other ideas. She’s wailing pitifully and the human’s words of reassurance do nothing to stop her. 

You’re both royally fucked. 

Ashley scares you, sure, but you know how much worse it could be. So, so, so much worse. Ashley can be cruel, but she’s not sadistic. Horror stories flash through your mind of humans who inflict pain for fun, and a rush of dizziness has you seeing stars. Suddenly the thought of staying with Ashley doesn’t seem so bad compared to what could be. 

The human takes both of you into the back of a van and places the cages down gently onto one of the leather side seats. They sit on the floor with their legs crossed, eye level with you and Hamster. They take their toque off, and underneath they have a curly blonde mohawk. ”My name is Ratty. I’m here to take you somewhere safe,” they repeat those words: Safe. 

It’s grounding in a way, being promised safety, but your skepticism has your heart pounding. There’s no way what this human is saying is true.

The van starts rumbling, and you’re being driven away that moment. The other two people are in the front seats behind protective glass, so its just Ratty in the back with you. 

The human in front of you already knows you’re in the cage, so you decide to face your fears and show yourself. You throw fluff away from you, and come out with the most defiant glare you can muster while your heart hammers against your chest painfully. “Let us go!” You growl, “You have to let us go, let me out of this cage!” 

“I promise I will. Hold on. Let me take a look at this.” To your surprise, they grab the lock that's on the cage door, looking at it lazily. “Are either of you hurt anywhere?” 

You shake your head instantly, in fear that this human might want to touch you with prodding fingers. You look over to Hamster to see if she answers the same, but she doesn’t answer at all. Instead she just stares in horror, stuck in place by fear. It’s that same look that made you protect her from that mouse. The same look that got you into this mess in the first place. 

You’re trembling, but seeing her even more terrified face prompts the next question. You ask it for her, to ease some of that panic, but you’re curious enough yourself to want to know. “W-what did you do to Ashley? Is she uh… Okay?” 

“She’ll be fine. No one hurt her,” Ratty says, almost sounding bored. 

“Why did you do that?! Are you the pet liberation?” You draw your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, “How did you find us?”

Ratty stops fidgeting with the lock and sits back to talk. “Yeah, we’re basically pet lib. Something like that. I saw your picture on her blog. It was hard to miss.” 

“Are you actually going to let us go?” A lump forms in your throat and you find it hard to swallow. 

“If that’s what you want, I promise I will. We can drop you off somewhere if you have a place to go. Or we can take you to a shelter if you don’t, but you can’t go back to Ashley, or you shouldn't anyway.” 

You frown slightly, testing. “What if we did go back?” 

Ratty shrugs, staying frustratingly vague. “I wouldn’t suggest it. Why? Do you want to?” 

“No,” you say flatly, “but she might.” 

Ratty looks to Hamster who’s now curled up weeping in the corner. “I understand,” Ratty says, “Are you two close? You and Hamster?”

Hamster nods just as you’re about to say no, and you realize there's a possibility of the two of you being separated. You don’t trust this human enough to take Hamster anywhere by herself, and you have no idea what they would do with her. “Yeah, she’s with me. So you can let us go together and I’ll take care of her. We’re not going back to Ashley.”

“Alright. Is there a place you want to go?” 

You think of a known landmark that's close enough to some people you know, and request that. An apartment building in town that you know the name of. 

“That sounds great,” Ratty says, distractedly, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I want to get you some supplies first, maybe some clothes. You’re both half naked, and from what I'm guessing she’s never been outside before…” 

You ask again with a frown, “How do you know all this?” 

Ratty shrugs. “Ashley posts a lot on her blog. Look, I really don’t feel comfortable dropping you two off on the side of the road with no supplies. I’m sorry, you’ll have to hang tight for a bit while I get you some from the store. We’ll be quick. Anything you want?” 

You glare at Ratty, but they’re right. Especially if Hamster decides to be difficult during the commute to your group of people. “I want a knife,” you start off with, testing. 

“Sure.” Ratty types that into their phone and looks at you expectantly, waiting for the rest of the list. 

You’re stunned at how seemingly compliant this human is, still feeling skeptical. You throw out a few more suggestions, wondering if there would be a catch to the request. “Hair ties, this size.” You hold out your hands to demonstrate. “Fabric, thread, plastic wrap, matches.” You list a few things from the top of your head, then add, “doll clothes.” 

“Gotcha.” Ratty types the rest up, and knocks on the safety glass to the front seat, asking them to stop at a store.

“Can you let me out already?” You ask impatiently. Ratty hadn’t made a move to take the lock off, and you are still trapped in the cage. 

“Uhh… I’m gonna be real with you, champ. If I let you out now I don’t trust that you won’t take off right away and get yourself killed somewhere in this van. I don’t want that on my conscience.”  

Your face grows hot, and you retort, “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

Ratty chuckles, which just adds to your anger. “No. I think you’re scared. Which is worse. I’ll be right back.” They change their shirt and put on a pair of glasses, altering their appearance well enough to not be recognized as the home invader from earlier. 

Light floods the room of the van as the human exits, then the door closes again leaving you still trapped with nothing but Hamster’s blubbering cries. 

You scoff loudly, “Well aren’t they a fucking delight.” You crawl over to Hamster. Her cage is right beside you, but you don’t know what to say. Your nerves are shot, and comforting people makes your skin itch. “You’re not alone, Hamster. Ashley didn’t get shot, she’s fine. So… Take a deep breath. I’m not gonna ditch you.” 

Staring into her cage, you wonder if you can get her busy. “You see that hammock? Take it down and roll it up with some food in it. We’ll need it if that human is telling the truth.” 

When Hamster doesn’t move you start snapping your fingers to get her attention. She startles, then moves sluggishly as if both your lives aren’t at stake right now. You sigh. This is going to be a long week of travel, especially if she slows you down.

Ratty’s back before long with a small bag of goods. “Anything I can help you do?” They ask as they show you everything. The clothes are a cheap brand- a little flashy for trying to hide in- but good enough for now. 

“Give me my knife,” you demand. 

Ratty slips a needle in the cage for you. It will have to do… They also break an exacto blade into manageable pieces for you to use.

The human helps you get all of your supplies ready, and you help Hamster with her clothes through the bars, wrapping her arms and legs in floral tape to keep them protected. You tie her hair back into a fluffy ponytail, and wrap fabric and plastic around her feet for makeshift shoes. The hammock is tied around her like a sash. 

You do the same for yourself and wrap as many of the supplies as you can fit into your own sash to bring with you. Ratty also gives you a tiny glass jar with water in it that you tie around your hip. It's heavy, but needed. 

You’re as ready as you can be and look for the human’s approval to let you go. With the way the human is smugly staring down at you with a soft smile you’d say they were pretty pleased with the way you both look. 

The van stops at your destination, and Ratty asks one more time, “You sure you’ll be okay?” 

“If you let me out of this cage, yes,” you huff. 

“Okay… Hold on. I’ll stand watch for a minute to make sure you’re safe too,” they assure you, and lift the cages out of the van. You have seconds to find your bearings, and watch to see what side of the building you’re on when Ratty sets the cages down next to some bushes. 

Ratty then flips the latches on the bottom of the cages to remove the whole top part of them. “I didn’t need to break the lock after all,” they chuckle. You were so caught up with the lock you forgot how these stupid cages even work. Fear really did cloud your judgement. 

It makes you uneasy how the human is treating this like a joke, but that doesn’t matter. You can practically taste the freedom. Ratty lifts the bars off the cage and you’re free.

You’re free!

You make a break for it. The wind hitting your face like cold water. You Sprint as fast as possible to Hamster, grabbing her by the wrist, running for the first cover in sight. 

Turning the corner you dive under some rubbish. Pulling Hamster against you. Covering her mouth to stop her from screaming. “Shh, don’t make a sound. Stay still,” you whisper, breathing quickly.

The human has their back to you as promised, and you only pray that this isn’t all a plan to use you as bait to find more tinies.

After an agonizing minute, the human leaves, taking both of the cages with them. You warn Hamster again not to make a sound as you take your hand off of her mouth.

She’s shaken but you don’t give her time to recover. You tell her to hold a leaf over her head so you two can run for further cover without being seen by anything that might see you as prey. 

You do the same, grabbing a leaf, and check if the coast is clear before running against the hard concrete along the side of the building. Your thoughts are racing but there’s no time to reflect on them. Right now you can only focus on getting somewhere safer. Your energy is being used to survive this trek. 

It's not long before Hamster starts to slow, and at this point you’re practically dragging her. She’s not used to physical labour, and admittedly you’re quite out of shape yourself from being locked up. You both end up kneeling over panting for breath behind a garbage can. You feel as if you’re about to throw up. “Fuck!” You swear under your breath. “We have to make it inside. It’s too dangerous out here.” 

There are still tears in Hamster’s eyes, which you don’t have time for. You assume this is going to be a constant with her. You wait for her to catch her breath, and continue running until you find a vent that leads to the inside of the building. You pull her in, and find a hole that’s been made to lead into the walls. 

Once you’re inside you collapse against the wall, sliding down against it until you’re on the ground. Your leg is throbbing, and your lungs are on fire, but you’re free. Hamster’s hand is still in yours, and she’s panting beside you. It's a good reminder that you’re both alive. 

Your nerves catch up to you, and you start to laugh. You can’t believe you made it out of that cage. You made it out finally. It’s unbelievably exhilarating.

You give yourself and Hamster a minute to calm down. Catch your breath. Let the shock wear off from everything that just happened before getting up again to continue on inside the building. 

There's pink fluffy insulation along the walls that has been pushed to the side to make an open hallway when you turn the corner. “Don’t touch that stuff,” you tell Hamster without an explanation. 

Hamster leans away from it and keeps holding onto your hand while you take her down the hallway. Eventually you reach a makeshift ladder that goes to the second floor of the building, with little ramps along the way to take breaks on. You never thought you would miss such a shoddily made structure. It's made out of various things: nails, wood, string. “We have to climb up this,” you tell her.

As soon as Hamster looks up to see how high it is she shakes her head and slowly backs away from it. Your jaw clenches in frustration. “I know you’re scared of falling but you have to.” Hamster doesn’t move, and her face crumples while she shakes her head harder. You can’t believe this is where she draws the line. 

Pinching your nose, you take a deep breath. You’ll have to wait this out until she’s ready. It’s probably the best time to take a break anyway- a proper break that is- now that you’ve at least made it inside. You sit down and do an inventory check while talking to her. “We can’t stay here all day, got it? You’ll be fine, just don’t look down and keep one hand on the bars at all times. Get ready to do that soon.”

Hamster curls up and begins crying again. Deep heartbroken sobs that wrack her whole body into uncontrollable tremors. 

If she really won’t do it, you’ll have to leave her for a night or two, and go get help. You would rather not though, it still isn’t entirely safe here. Especially with someone as naive to this world as she is.

When her sobbing doesn’t clear up you squeeze your eyes shut, really not wanting to be in this position. You’re not left with a lot of options, so eventually you sit down beside her and put an arm around her. “It’s okay Hamster. Really.” You hate this. 

Hamster looks at you, glasses fogged up on her tear stained face, then she grabs you into a hug. She pulls you against her and cries into your shoulder. You freeze, then slowly hug her back, tighter than you expected. You’re still shaken up from the whole experience, but you would never admit that you’re glad she’s with you. 

If you can calm her down, then you can convince her to follow you up that height. You wait for as long as you can, then get up. “Are you coming with me? At least try. If you really can’t do it you’ll have to wait here. Alone. If a rat comes by you’ll be screwed, so make your choice,” you tell her and give her one of the needles to defend herself with.

You don’t wait for her to hum and haw on a decision, and instead start to climb the ladder by yourself. Halfway up you look down to see her standing at the bottom, jumping from foot to foot as if trying to convince herself to follow you. 

To your astonishment, she slowly- one step at a time- starts to climb up the ladder after you. Thank god. 

It does take a lot longer than you had hoped. There's a lot of crying and freezing up, but she eventually climbs up with some coaxing. Once she’s at the top, you pull her onto the platform that leads to the second floor of the building. She hugs you tightly, trembling like a leaf, but you can tell she’s relieved to have made it. 

After a few more hours of slow travel you finally make it to a fenced in area that has a door with a latch to keep it closed. The area is large enough for a few people your size to camp out in with a roof over it. 

“We can sleep here tonight. It’s built to keep rats and stuff out of it so we’ll be safe,” you explain and drop your sash, grateful to have the extra weight off your leg. “Let’s see your hammock.” You help Hamster untie it and roll it out, collecting the food from it to put in a pile for dinner.

You feel uneasy being in a cage for the night after finally escaping one, but realistically you know the difference. Maybe it’ll calm Hamster down by being familiar to her. You’re both exhausted and don’t make much conversation while chewing on some dried seeds. Both of you are thankful to be sitting down, and done travelling for the night. 

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @voraciousvore

[aylinxc-s]

Aylin left the dogs behind, not that they'd made any movement to follow, and opened the door from her bedroom. Had she left a light on downstairs by accident? She hadn't remembered doing so but right about now, she was thankful for it.

In the complete darkness, she'd have felt even more uneasy than she already did. It felt as though someone was watching her, but it wasn't as if Aylin was without any sense of paranoia.

Walking down the stairs, she could have sworn she heard something and her steps stilled mid-step. Her eyes tried to make shapes out of shadows. Not helpful. She didn't know why she felt the urge to call out, but the house suddenly didn't feel empty. "Ari? Is that you?" Maybe he'd forgotten something. If she wasn't feeling so anxious, she'd remember to probably be annoyed he hadn't texted her first.

Taking another step down the stairs, Aylin tried to listen for any sign of life. Was she just freaking herself out for nothing, as usual?

Silas had checked what he thought was every nook and cranny that he would have stashed something in the kitchen before he moved on to the living room, kneeling down on both knees on the floor as he checked behind a cabinet that he had pulled out from where it rested against the walk. Retracing his own steps was difficult when a sober mind was trying to figure out the specifics of something he had done years prior while coked out.

He was about to put the cabinet back in place when he found himself jumping at the sound of a crash followed by dogs barking. It caused him to whip his head around fast, his eyes on the stairs as his heartbeat ramped up in speed.

The house wasn't empty.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He mouthed to himself as he scrambled up from the floor, almost tripping over his own feet in the process, looking from entrance to exit. He could slip back out the door he had snuck in through, leaving behind just a minimal trace that someone else had been there, but he couldn't leave without his money.

Like the fool he tended to be, he tiptoed towards the stairs to get a better up them, wondering if whoever it was that was on the second floor might have been heading to bed due to the late hour and leave him free and clear to continue ransacking.

[analog-autistic]

[thevillainsguild]

B&E - UNOVA - CLOSED

TIME SENSITIVE JOB, WILL BE CLOSED BY MORNING.

There is a group of gated homes in Driftveil city, at house 2207 is a particularly troublesome resident. We've spotted him out of the city and he will be back by morning, do not leave any sign you were there we are not responsible for any actions of theirs after the job has been concluded. Break in and steal what you need, there is a safe in the master bedroom behind the renaissance painting, the one with the severed head. Combo is 24-54-47.

complications. Given the activity of the city you will want to wait until nightfall, power will be shut off for the home from 6PM to 6AM disabling all alarms and cameras in the building. Current resident is a disgraced employee of the company, if he is to enter within 3 miles of the home power will be immediately activated and you will have 2 minutes to leave the home before the alarms are reset.

Verification will be unnecessary, the resident knows my contact information.

[pricetagged]

Reader who's shuffling towards their winter break, exhausted, malaised. The beginnings of a flu are catching in your throat, nose blocked up and head-heavy. Too overtired to notice the way things have been moving around your apartment

—scratches around the locks, food gone from the fridge, an extra cup sitting in the drying rack—

It's only when you finally reach Friday night, with the time and the promise of a lie-in on Saturday, that you start to feel a prickling on your neck. Shaking it off, you take a hot shower, steam furling and opening up your congested nose. Hot water spraying over your aching muscles—

—except

The shampoo is almost used up. The bathroom was already slightly damp when you got in.

When you reach for the towel, it's already wet. Hastily folded over the rack, and smelling like you but more—

The lights go out as you're staring at your stunned face in the steam-hazed mirror.

[raineandsky]

#88

tw: home invasion, knife/stabbing

The superhero doesn’t get much warning that someone’s in their house. They glance into their bedroom, into the mirror propped up at the opposite end, and make eye contact with someone hiding in the shadows on the other side of the doorframe.

There’s a half-second where they both seem a little startled to see each other. Then the intruder leaps out of their hiding spot and makes a haphazard strike, their blown cover making their attack a blatant scramble.

The superhero steps back, just. A blade swings into the space they leave. They feel the waft of cold air breeze over their face, the quiet phew as it cuts the air in front of them.

“Fuck,” escapes the intruder’s lips in a breath, and the superhero has half the mind to glance at who on earth has the gall to break into their house.

A villain. No surprise there, really.

The villain makes another attempt at a stab, which the superhero deftly avoids. Thieving, maybe? The superhero ducks under a second swing, the blade sweeping over their head. But the villain wasn’t looking for anything. They were hiding. They were trying to catch the superhero unawares.

Fucking assassin.

The villain leaps for them again, finally finding their rhythm again after the surprise. The superhero dodges their blade and shoves them back. Their back bumps against the wall with a dull thump.

“Who sent you?” the superhero snaps. The villain replies with an animalistic snarl and another swipe of their knife. The superhero’s too close—the edge of the blade tears a deep crimson streak across their chest.

“None of your fuckin’ business,” the villain retorts coldly. “All you need to know is that I’m here to make sure you get what you deserve.”

Their chest burns. Their breathing is uneven. Shit. “Come on, [Villain],” the superhero says with forced nonchalance. “Humour a guy here. Who was it?”

“No one sent me,” the villain spits. “Your death is for my own gain.”

The villain leaps. The superhero’s mind is distant, thinking about the heat in their chest, and they notice entirely too late. The villain shoves them into the wall this time, the force of it bringing a bright flash of pain with it.

The superhero throws a punch. The villain sweeps out of the way like this is easy. “Your retirement will bring more joy than you could ever know,” the villain teases, already closing the space between them again. “To us, and to your own.”

Bullshit. The superhero heaves a breath that aches in their lungs. They throw a foot out in a vain kick that the villain barely even has to avoid. “You have brought that agency to its knees. The heroes won’t miss you.” A smile splits on their face, unnerving and cold in the low light. “[Hero] won’t miss you.”

The hero? The gash on the superhero’s chest is dribbling. Every breath is like lava is being poured into a crack in their heart. That doesn’t make sense. The hero loves them—everyone loves them, everyone, they do, they have to—

“Me and your little dog have gotten quite friendly recently,” the villain continues into the silence. “They tell me you’re quite the fuckin’ shitbag, [Supervillain].”

The hero. They wouldn’t. The hero, they– they love them. They wouldn’t.

“Liar,” the superhero spits like a curse.

“Yeah?” The villain brushes the knife against the superhero’s throat; a promise, a warning. “They didn’t send me, if that’s your concern. No, they asked me not to bother. I was sent by nothing but the love I feel for the person you’re destroying.”

Did the superhero not turn the heating on on their way in? It’s so cold. A hand sits numbly at their chest. One thought keeps sinking in their mind like tar —no, no, the hero loves them, of course they do, of course, they have to.

A whir of sirens pierces through the superhero like an arrow to the head. They grimace, and the villain turns to glance out the window at blurry reds and blues. 

“Shit,” they say shortly. “Shit, you fucker.” They jab their blade disturbingly close to the superhero’s face. “If you survive tonight, consider me a recurring problem. I will stab you as many times as it takes to watch your hold on [Hero] loosen.”

The superhero’s emergency call is in their hand. Did they get that out? Huh. Those sirens must be the police, then.

“I have a lot more people on my side,” the superhero rasps, but when they have the mind to look up, the villain’s already gone.

Their chest is white-hot by now. They have to sit down. Each breath is scorching, short with pain. Agony has crept into their muscles; everything aches with exhaustion.

Well, a promise for a promise. If the superhero survives this, both the hero and the villain are fucking dead.

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 5

Sabo x Reader

TW: Home invasion

[y/c] = your city

"Weakness." You punched Sabo into the lava and watched him burn to death.

"[Y/n] I was in the middle of collecting quartz," Sabo whined and respawned back at his base.

"Karma's a bitch," you laughed.

You were playing Minecraft with your online friend Sabo, who you've been playing online games with for the past 10 years. Started ever since you got Minecraft as a kid and played on servers, after playing a few mini-games you friended him, and eventually, you exchanged Discord users (when it became a thing). Yeah, yeah, the internet is a dangerous place, blah blah blah, Sabo was cool though, you trusted him, you've already done video calls with him, and honestly he's been there for you more than anyone else.

There were countless late nights where you two stayed up, gaming while discussing some deep topics. Sometimes they were philosophical nonsense, other times they were about struggles going on in life, you both cried over call during those kinds of nights. Safe to say you and Sabo's friendship was real, you just wished he lived near you so he could visit-

"Oh now I'm not going to share the surprise I was going to tell you," Sabo said when he teleported back to the nether.

"Surprise? What surprise?" You crouched your Minecraft character in front of him.

"Nooooo, I'm not going to say." Sabo walked around you and begun mining quartz once again.

"Come onnnnn, Sabo."

"Surprises are for nice spouses."

Ah, that's right, I forgot to mention your married Sabo in Minecraft, for "XP benefits" of course.

"I'll give you golden apples."

"Mhmmmmm."

"And... a three stacks of cookies."

"Well why didn't you just say so!" Sabo spun around and picked up the items you dropped for him before going on his merry way.

"Okay, now tell me," you said following after him.

"So you remember how I said my brothers and I planning to go on a trip over Christmas?" Sabo asked as he started to build a bridge over lava.

"Yeah, kinda sucks since that means you won't be able to play online," you grumble as you slowly crept behind him as he placed blocks. Playing with Sabo was all you looked forward to these days so him reminding you that you wouldn't be able to play with him during that time, you felt your mood deflate.

"Well guess where we're going."

"Uhhhh Tim Buck Two."

"No, we're going to [y/c]."

"Really!?" Your demeanour spun a 180, your excitement pulled a shiny smile across your face.

"I knew you'd be happy but I didn't think you'd get the same energy when you see your favourite blorbos on screen," Sabo laughed as the two of you were now bridging over a group of piglins on the ground.

"Because you are one of my little blorbo husbandos," you cooed knowing it'd fluster him.

"...I'd like to see you say that to me in person."

"You say that like I won't."

"[Y/n], you can barely ask an employee for help at the grocery store."

"Shush." You hit Sabo off the bridge and watched him fall to his doom, or so you thought. He placed a water block on the ground, in the nether. "Are you using your hacks again!?"

"You better move before I get back up and knock you off," Sabo warned.

"You won't dare."

"Or I would-" Sabo cut himself off when he heard something loud thud over on your end. "What was that?"

"Hm?" You were playing music in the background, talking to Sabo, and listening to Minecraft sounds with your noise-cancelling headphones so you didn't hear it.

"Something heavy fell over on your end."

"You're not messing with me are you?"

"Ace does that trick, not me."

"I wouldn't put it past you to use one of your brother's tricks."

"Okay, I'll stop building up-" Sabo ceased stacking blocks and looked up at your character. "You pause your game and check what fell over."

"Fine." You pause your game and start to take your headphones off.

"Wait!"

"Whaaaat?"

"Turn your camera on."

"Why?"

"It's... I just got a bad feeling."

"Okay..." You shrugged off Sabo's uneasiness and turned on your camera before taking off your headphones and started looking around your room to see what fell.

"Must've fell outside," you muttered heading toward your bedroom door and opening it.

Sabo couldn't see what was outside your door, whatever stood out there made you slam your shut and scramble to push your dresser in front of the door. Goosebumps crawled over his skin as realization hit him that shit is hitting the fan. He fumbled on his end to grab his phone and rapidly tapped buttons.

"Sabo..." You were now back in front of the computer, the dresser completely blocking the door. "Call the cops."

"Way ahead of you," Sabo said as the phone began ringing. "What's going on?"

"There's...there's a guy in...in my house." You could hardly pull your words together since your brain is currently spinning around to find the way for you to survive. "He...he's throwing things around... I think...I think he saw me." You started typing your address to Sabo so he could tell the cops where to go, you sent it before but it'd take too long for him to scroll up to find it. 

Sabo muted himself, probably so he wouldn't be heard talking to the cops. You backed away from the computer again, this time grabbing your bookshelf full of manga and pushing it in front of your door. Once that also blocked the door, you glanced around for more things to push in front of the door but the only heavy stuff left was your bed and desk which could be hiding places that the intruder could look around, and any few seconds he wasn't finding you was a second more of survival.

You picked up your headset and put it back on, Sabo was still muted. You clicked on the Minecraft tab so it'd cover your screen and he- if the invader came into your room- wouldn't know your camera was on with a witness. You took your phone just in case, making sure it was on silent and hid in the closet, making sure no sound came when you closed the door. You climbed into your laundry basket, burying yourself under your dirty clothes, for once grateful you forgot to do laundry.

"Okay, the cops are on their way- [Y/N]?? Where are you [Y/n]???" Sabo felt his heart drop.

"i'm in the closet," you whispered.

"Why didn't you climb out your window?"

"don't you remember that i told you the lock is broken? i live on the 10th, that's suicide," you whisper-shouted.

"Just stay on call, okay, police will be there soon."

"...okay."

Your meek voice squeezed Sabo's heart, his wish he was there to deal with the guy himself, or at this to be there to reassure you everything is going to be okay. Alas, all he could do was sit there on the other end of the screen, helpless as you both listened to something banging on your door.

Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[conciliumxx]

the strangers (2008)

directed by bryan bertino