Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
You think. A lot. You usually avoid it. Try not to dig too deep beneath the cobwebs.
But you have to. You have to face it all and decide. Do you go forward? Do you stay and sink? Do you go back?
It's not a simple decision. It's not just whether you go off to face Rocco and the men like him. It's much more than that.
Vengeance. Patty says that's a valid reason but wonders of it's good enough. You're just as uncertain.
Closure. Can it really just be over? Can you turn that last page? And is Lloyd's plan the way to do that?
Peace. That's a lovely dream. A wonderful someday but you know better than that.
A future. That's something you didn't have before. It's what they took from you. Not just your dad and brother, but what you could have been. What you could've had with them. Happiness, memories, love.
You don't know what the end is but you have decided your part in it. You have to choose. Stay or go. Hide or fight. It's not simple. Nothing ever is.
Lloyd is around. If he catches you out of bed, he'll be upset. You're too restless to spend any longer under the blankets. And you're not very cold anymore.
You decide on a good excuse. He said something about hot chocolate. If he asks...well, he probably won't get an answer. Ha!
You go to the kitchen. You open the cupboard and eye the row of mugs. All black. A roundish square shape. Fancy.
You take one down. A click makes you jump before the porcelain clinks on the counter. You turn to face God.
He nears. You take another mug down and peek at him. He nods.
He doesn't make you feel like you have to talk. Or that you have to do anything. He's comfortable in silence.
He finds the chocolate powder. He knows the place better than you. He spoons it into the cups. You wait until the kettle clicks again. The water steams.
He pours and mixes, then adds some milk to each. You take one and look at him again. He lifts the cup and tilts his head slightly. You raise your mug and blow over it.
You lean on the counter. He does too. You take small careful sips. You're almost done when he speaks.
"He needs you. He needs someone to think before they act. Someone to watch his back." God says then empties his cup. He swallows and rinsed his cup. "He will keep you safe."
You stare at him. Lloyd has, so far. Even though you walked straight into danger time after time. It's you're turn to do the same. In your own way.
"I'll be gone soon. You need to talk to him." He turns and walks out. You watch him go.
He's like Patty. He's wise.
...
You go back to the bedroom. Patty is patiently waiting. You promised you'd be back.
You sit on the edge of the bed and watch the flames in the glass fireplace. You think you know what to do. You just need Lloyd to understand.
You think of how to tell him. It's scary. For so long, you've done all you can to keep everything inside. To never say a word, never let another secret slip. You can't ever be as careless or weak as you were before.
The only way to be safe was to give nothing. Or, that's what you thought.
When Lloyd appears, you glance at him. You wait. He comes to sit next to you. You fidget.
You lift your hand and freeze. Your heart is racing. You make a scribbling motion with your hand.
"Hm." He hums. "You want a pen?"
You tap the air with your finger. He clicks his tongue and stands. You listen to him pull out a draw and the noise of his search. He returns to you with a leather notebook and sleek metal pen.
You take them. You hesitate and squeeze the book. You open the pages. Your hand shakes.
You write two words. 'Thank you."
He reads it, his arm against you.
" It's whatever. A pen and paper." He scoffs. "Must be important, baby face, so what's up?"
You take a breath. You draw a line then scribble it out. It's hard to put your thoughts into words that make sense.
'Want to help.' You write then show him.
"Alright..." His tone dangles. He knows you have more to say.
You put the nib to paper. 'Will help but not go.'
He nods as he reads.
"Sure," he looks at you. "Baby, you wanna stay, you stay. I'll be happy as a cat with milk knowing your right here waiting for me."
You scrunch up your lips.
You hover the pen before you can decide on how to ask. Or tell.
'Watch.'
He reads and shakes his head. He looks at you and waits. You cringe. You scribble.
'I watch you.'
He clucks as he thinks. He pets his mustache as he leans over his lap. He looks up at you.
"Surveillance. Is that what you mean?"
You point at him with the pen. He sits up.
"Sure. That makes sense. Earpiece is easy enough. I already got ops on that assholes camera system. You'll have the perfect view of my ass as I take that shit hole down." He boasts.
He understands. Good.
'Sorry. Can't go. Too much... Left behind.' You write.
"All good, sweetheart. I told you, it's up to you." He says.
You look at him. He's smiling. You quickly write a word.
'Why?'
"Why what?" He asks.
You put your head down and draw on the page. A face with a mustache and a big smile. He snorts.
"That supposed to be me?" He asks. "Well, sweetheart, I'm smiling because you. This is the first time we've every had a conversation. It's... Nice."
You grin. Slowly. He's right. It's very nice.
He runs his knuckles up your arm. "I love it when you smile. Even better when it's 'cause of me."
Your eyes crinkle. He's cheesy. You shake your head.
You dig the tip of the pen into the page. You twist it as your heart skips. You don't know if you can.
It's okay. You have us. Both of us. Patty assures you. You peek back at her.
You bend your head and move your hand slowly. Each letter is like carving in stone. You haven't written them in so long and yet you've probably written them more than any others.
You hold up the book. Lloyd reads. He enunciates it aloud.
You point at yourself with the pen as he repeats your name quizzically. You stare at him.
"That's your name." He states. You tap the page with the pen. You haven't heard anyone say it in so long. You feel almost like a person again.
You close the book around the pen and set it aside. He shifts. You turn back to him.
You sidle closer on the bed and twist toward him. You sling your arms around his middle and lean your head on his chest. He eases and rubs your back.
"You know me, sunshine. I don't mind filling the silence." He slowly lays back with your against him. "Did I ever tell you about that time God ruined my Lexus?"
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
"How is she?" Lloyd asks for about the sixth time. "Check her seatbelt."
God cranes to share a look with you. He's easy to read. At least, you think so. He just sighs and turns his sights forward.
"She's fine." It's the same answer he's given each time.
"Sunshine? Are you cold? Should I blast the heat?" Lloyd reaches to fiddle with the touch screen.
"Just drive." God firmly moves his hand away from the controls.
"Look, I'm just making sure."
"I can drive." God says.
"Not after what you did to the Lexus." Lloyd retorts.
You lean forward. The blanket shifts around you and the seatbelt tugs on you. You tap Lloyd's shoulder. You push your hand over it so he can see the thumbs up in the mirror.
"Sweetheart, you wanna sit back. Don't need to be gettin' hurt--â
God sighs again.
"What?" Lloyd snaps.
Silence. You sit back and hug the blanket. Another chill ripples through you. The cold lingers still.
Even so, you feel better. You feel good even. Intrigued by the man in the passenger seat. He's Lloyd's friend even if he won't say so. You know he'll insist he doesn't have friends but you can tell.
You close your eyes and let the motion lull you. You're tired. Very tired. The smell of dirt and smoke clings to you.
Patty asks why you went away without her. Again. You tell her, again, you'll explain later.
It isn't as far as you expect. Or maybe you lose track of time. The engine quiets and you wallow in the stillness. The door opens and Lloyd feels around the folds of the blanket as you open your eyes. He unbuckles the seat belt and gently slides you across the seat. He stops you at the edge.
"You good, sweetheart?" He grips your shoulders to steady you.
You softly pat the front of his jacket. He doesn't need to worry. Not anymore.
He picks you up with the tangle of blankets. As he does, Patty tumbles away from your lap and onto the ground. You watch her plummet on despair.
God appears and scoops her up. He brushes away the snow and sets her in your lap. He tilts his head. He's nice.
Lloyd turns and carries you inside. You wiggle in his arms. You could walk if he let you.
"You need to be in bed under fresh blankets. Nothing else." He says. You pout. He's right, Patty says. You should listen to him.
She's relieved you're back but still upset. You know it. You left her and you weren't going to come back.
Lloyd takes you up to the bedroom. He takes away the smokey blanket and gets you a set of pajamas. They're not any he bought for you. They're his size.
"Get changed and get cozy," he demands tersely. "You know how worried I was?"
He smooths his mustache and sniffs. Tension ticks in his cheeks. You show your teeth and he tuts.
"You're lucky I don't tie you to the bed. The way you scared me shitless." He lectures. You raise your brows and grab the pajama shirt. You show it to him. You're going to do what he wants, okay?
"Got me out there in the cold freezing my balls off too." He clucks. You narrow your eyes. He steps closer and he exhales. He bends down to look you in the face. "It doesn't matter. You're back."
He reaches to rub your arm. You watch his hand. You lean into it then stop. You look down at the shirt and unbutton it.
He backs up and sniffs again. "I gotta deal with company..."
He lingers awkwardly then goes. You focus on switching out the damp and smokey clothes for the fresh satin. Patty sits silently as you do.
You put the clothes to the side then slip under the covers. You grab Patty and hold her close. You stare at the ceiling.
Patty, I'm sorry. There are things that happened before. Things I don't like to remember. And I hurt that man. I killed him. He hurt me and my family but it scared me. I don't feel bad for him. I just never wanted to hurt anyone.
You hurt me. And Lloyd. Patty insists.
I didn't think it would hurt you.
It did.
I know and I'm sorry. Thank you for finding me.
She's quiet again but not like before. She isn't mad. You turn onto your side and hug her. Shivers continue to roll over you but not so intensely as before.
The door opens. You don't check. You know it's Lloyd. He comes into view and stands in front of the tinted pane of glass set into the wall.
"Get this going and get you warm," he messes around with the buttons that blend into the metallic frame. Soft flames appear behind the glass. "Better."
He turns and struts over to the bed. He looks down at you. "You're awake."
You just stare at him. He gathers your old clothes and takes them away. He returns in only an undershirt and briefs.
He sits on the edge of the bed. "You should sleep. It will help."
You keep your eyes on him. You sit up and wave him off before he can stop you. You're not tired.
"Want something to drink? Hot chocolate? God said--"
You put your hand up then point to his lips. His brows furrow on confusion. You're not stupid. He has something else to say.
You make a beak with your hand and open and close it.
"I talk too much? Well, sunshine, I can't change that," he scoffs.
You waggle your finger. He squints then lets out a heavy sigh. He searches your face.
"Rocco?" He asks. You drop your hand and stare.
He pushes his lips out and thinks. He nods then pokes his tongue into his cheek. He clicks before he starts.
"Look, I want my fucking money, but that was never the only thing. This shit is about pride. Reputation. If people think they can rip me off, well, that don't work for me. It doesn't just mean I don't get fucking paid, it's a big bullseye right on my taint." He snarls.
"You know what I am, baby. I probably done things as bad as the people that had you. Difference is I don't do it to innocent women. Dealers, black market, dark web shit. No one gets into that shit if they're a goody two shoes. You feel me?"
You tilt your head. You're listening.
"What the fuck ever, you know?" He flutters his fingers. "I gotta go and get what's owed. That's just how it is. I can't let this go. But..." He swallows and fixes his gaze firmly on you. "You don't gotta. I shouldn't have... Well, you know I'm a fucking idiot. It's your choice, sunshine. You gotta decide that for you. Now I'm thinking, I don't want you out there. You don't needa be doing all that."
You lower your eyes. He's going in one way or the other. He's stubborn like that. You're not sure if you can make yourself do that. If you can face those memories again.
You reach out for his hand. He winces as you touch him. You pull his hand into your lap next to Patty. You tap the watch still on his wrist. He hums.
"You want time to think?" He asks.
You look at him. He nods.
"Well, baby face, you got all the time you need. Just don't be sneaking off again," he chides.
I know itâs short but please let me know your thoughts and reblog. Also, would love to discuss any ideas these little snippets inspire!
Love you! đ
You drag your tongue along the roof of your mouth. You woke up with a salty dryness that could make you wretch. Your own fault, sleeping with your mouth open and not drinking enough water.
The shadows disorient you as your sister's house addles your groggy senses. You forgot you were there.
You shuffle down to the kitchen. The night casts through the window, moonlight outlining the frame against the silver fridge. You grab a glass from the cupboard. You pull open the door, the lining sucking loudly.
You pour from the filtered jug and set it back on the top shelf. You sip at first then nearly chug as the coolness soothes your raw throat. You hope you're not getting sick. It's probably just the A/C.
You nearly choke as suddenly a warmth cups your chest. A long growl tickles your ear and your eyes widen as you barely keep from spitting out the water. You lower the glass as the hands knead your braless tits through your borrowed tee shirt.
Jack's deep timbre rolls behind your ear. You gasp as he pushes his pelvis against you and wiggles his hips. You panic and only manage to move flusher to him.
"Feel this? It's just for you." Your sister's husband drawls. Maybe he thinks you're her.
"Jack?" You murmur.
He snickers and nips your ear.
"Yeah, baby?" He's not deterred by your voice.
You try to pull away and his large hand stretches across your throat. "Gotta wash me out of your mouth, huh?"
You blink and the realisation scalds you like boiling water. You drop the glass. That taste. Rancid and sour. Stale.
"Shit," he lets you go as the shatter of glass echoes through the house. You face him and he sighs. "There's always tomorrow night."
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
The manâs footsteps keep a tempo beneath the steady wail of winds. His head is down as he carries you between the trees. The sky dims above as the barren trees creak against the gusting swirls of snow.
Suddenly, it stops. The wind doesnât blow over you or whip at your face. The man sits you against a wall and backs away. Your vision is hazy from the rising gloom. You can make out the skeleton of the structure. Two walls are open, covered only by shredded and faded sheets of canvas. The pattern makes you think of hunters.
He puts down the rucksack and a bigger bag next to it. He checks the jacket around you. He takes off his glove and touches your face. His hand is so hot.
He stands as he slips his hand back into his glove, takes something from his bag, and pushes through one of the sheets. His boots tread across the crunchy ground and fade into nothing. You shiver and lean your head back against the dingy wood.
Your eyes roll as you feel yourself sinking into unconsciousness. Youâre kept from the depths as the man returns. He puts down the armful of split logs and goes back through the sheet.
He returns again and again and again. He uses rock to mark a border then stacks several logs within. He goes to fetch twigs and smaller branches. You watch, dazed and drawn by the fervent activity.
He lights the fire on the first try, blowing and fanning it until it licks at the bark. The smell is comforting. It stirs memories you push back down.
He slides the hatches back through the straps along the side of his bag. He unrolls the blanket attached to the top and drapes it over you. Your eyes meet.
He grabs the rucksack. He takes out the trail mix and puts it in a divet of the blanket. He sits beside you and claims one of the protein bars.
You shiver. He reaches in his pocket. He takes out a phone as he chews, resting the bar on his leg. He removes his gloves and quickly keys in. You see numbers but nothing else. He puts the phone away.
He finishes the bar. He looks at you. You havenât moved. He picks up the packet of nuts and raisins and shakes it. You just stare.
He touches your face again. He rubs your cheeks then your neck. He methodically works down your body. You feel it, vaguely. He rearranges the blanket around you and moves you closer to the fire.
He unhook a metal cup from his pack. He pours something into it and holds it over the fire. He brings it to you and tips it against your lips. He gives you no choice but to drink. You swallow down chocolatey substance.
He goes to one side of the hut and pulls back the sheet. He looks up at the moon. He glances back at you, then steps out.
You stare after him. Your head swirls and slowly, you slump down. Your shoulder hits the dusty floor and your eyes close. Your nice and warm and ready.
đ
âOh god!â The exclamation draws you up from the brewing tides. Your eyes roll against the lids.Â
âWhat?â Another voice grits.
âJesus fuck. Not you. Itâs⌠itâs what people say. Why the fuck would you call yourself that anyway?â The first man snarls. Your eyes open as you recognise the voice. âShit!â
Thereâs a thump as Lloyd drops to one knee beside you. He touches your arm, rubbing through the blanket as you lay facing the fire.
âI didnât choose the name,â the stranger counters as he steps up across the flames.
âDoesnât fucking matter,â Lloyd huffs and hunches over you as he pets your face. âSweetheart, can you hear me? Hey!â He rubs your cheek with his thumb as your eyes open completely. âYou see me. Youâre awake.â He takes your head in both hands. âSunshine, Iâm here. I found you.â
The other man clears his throat.
âI had help,â he snorts and slides a hand down your back. He sits and pulls your shoulders over his lap, cradling you. âWhy⌠whereââ Lloyd, for once, is at a loss for words. âWhy the fuck would you do that to me, baby face?â
He wraps his arm around you and pushes your head against his chest. âShit. You fucking scared me. You fucking know that?â
He holds you so you can hear his heartbeat. You let him. You donât have the strength to resist. Youâre alive and heâs not going to have it any other way. You donât know how you want it to be. Youâre just too tired to decide.
âWait,â Lloyd slackens his embrace, keeping you on him. He unzips his jacket and feels around. âGot it.â
He pulls out Patty and puts her against your stomach. You twitch. Slowly you move your arm around her. She was worried and scared. Youâre sorry for that.
You spread your hand over Lloydâs as you keep Patty snug and when he tries to pull away, you push his palm against her fur. You hook your fingers around his gloved ones and hold him there.
He came and found you. Or he tried. It wasnât just him. He had help and you know he doesnât ask for that easily. All that for you. You canât throw that away.
He holds you as the other man sits across the fire. He watches. You can feel the warmth seeping in more and more. Your fingers donât tingle so much.
Lloyd rocks you and turns his hand to latch onto yours. Despite the wailing winds, you feel safe. You feel calm.
You look up at Lloyd and catch him staring at you. You tilt your head then crane to see over the fire. Lloyd angles you back against him.
âYeah, Iâll get to him.â He chortles as he pulls you up into his lap, sitting you up against him. He squeezes your hand and lifts it up to his mouth. He pushes his lips against your skin and his mustache tickles you. âYouâre warming up, sweetheart. Thatâs good.â
You stare at your hand, then his lip. That was⌠you felt it. You felt it a lot. You blink and lean into his shoulder. You feel his heartbeat pick up. Lloyd coughs and runs his thumb over your knuckles.
âThis is God. Heâs good at tracking.â Lloyd explains. âThe snow started. I didnât wanna fuck around.â He exhales then clucks.
âHi,â the other man says and nothing else.
Lloyd is quiet for a while. Thinking. You can tell as he hums in his throat before he speaks again.
âShe donât got a name. I just⌠I donât knowâŚâ he says to God. He sniffs and looks down at you. âYouâd laugh, sunshine, wouldnât you? If you fucking saw me running around like a cat with itâs tail on fire?â
You lower your lashes and rest your head against him again.
âYou donât gotta be sorry.â He says. âI got you back.â
You nestle into him. He got you back? And he wanted to? That thought is warmer than the fire or the blanket. That thought makes you smile. It makes you giggle.
Lloyd winces and you look up. His cheek dimples as his lips slant. His eyes shine in the firelight.
âHuh⌠thatâs music. to my fucking ears, baby faceâ
Warnings: This will include dark elements. This chapter includes self-harming thoughts. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
It's nice to be warm. It's nice to lay down. To be behind walls you can see. To be fed. To be held.
The snores behind you keep you awake. You're not disturbed by them. Lloyd dozed off hours ago. You didn't push him away when he slung his arm over you. You didn't want him to know you were awake.
You listen to the rhythm of his breath. He's tired. That's your fault too. He's been doing all these things, for you. You are just work for him.
You touch Patty gently. She's tired too. You pet her a few times then move her up near the pillow.
Carefully, you turn your body and slip out from under Lloyd's arm. He doesn't stir. The bed hardly moves with you. You take Patty and put her against him. She tells you to stop but it's too late.
You wade through the dark, placing your feet carefully. You float through the house like a ghost. You don't need much. Just some warmer clothes and maybe a bit of food.
You tie on your boots and take a pair of large gloves. They're too big for your hands but that doesn't matter. You tuck them in your jacket pocket.
You disarm the alarm first. You watched Lloyd do it so many times as he took you out to practice with the gun. Then you key in the code for the front door.
Once you're past the gate, the air in your chest flows easier. You put the gloves on and pull up your hood. It's cold and the ground is crisp with frost. You can smell winter.
You follow the road. You have no destination, just anywhere but here. As far as you can go. Somewhere where you won't be a bother. Where you can't cause any harm.
Patty said you should be mad at Lloyd. That you shouldn't worry about him like that. She's wrong. And she would get hurt too.
Lloyd can be mean, he can be selfish, but you can't hurt another person. You can't be the reason they die. Not again. And he just wouldn't accept that no matter how much he made you hit that bag or pull the trigger, you'd still be a liability.
The biggest favour you could do anyone is go away. If you hadn't left that man home, your father and Amir might have had a chance. Even Rocco was cursed with you. For whatever reason, he kept you alive but seemed annoyed that you were still around. So he passed you on so you could be someone else's problem. Lloyd doesn't want you around, he just needs someone who can hold a gun.
You'll keep going until you can't. You don't expect to find much out there. You're not looking for anything. You just want to be alone. You don't want to be the reason anyone gets hurt but yourself.
đ
The first flake is hypnotizing. Your chest is all fluttery as you watch the descent of snow. It's beautiful as it floats down and gathers in a shimmering carpet.
You like snow. You know that. Your father didn't...
You don't want to think about that. Not about him. Or how Amir would put icicles down your cost.
You don't want to think. You don't want to do a lot of things. So much so, that you don't think there's anything you do want.
You can see the city from here. The buildings cutting into the grey sky. You stare at them. Too many people there.
You head in the opposite direction, toward the trees on the other side of the double lane highway. The morning's followed you out but can't break through the clouds. You tuck you chin down and trod over the lumpy ground.
The last few leaves drift down as the snow knocks them from their bearers. Your breath puffs on clouds and your cheeks tingle. The tip of your nose feels hot and cold at once.
You stop and unwrap a protein bar. It's your least favourite; almond. You eat anyway. You put the wrapped in your pocket.
You swing the small rucksack around to look inside. More bars, a bottle of water, some nuts. You lift the strap over your head as your stomach churns. You set the bag down behind a sharp rock. You don't need that stuff. You don't want it.
You keep walking. You zig zag through the thickening trees. It's like a fairytale. Maybe the one with the kids lost in the woods that find the witch's house or the girl in her red cape running from the big bad wolf. The real stories, not the ones written for movies, they don't have happy endings.
You keep walking as the trees loom over you. The sky darkens. Your toes go numb. Your leg muscles burn from the cold.
You stop as you trip over a root. You can't see one step ahead of yourself. You hear rustling, you hear creatures, maybe a big bad wolf.
You sift through the dark and find a tree. You slide down and sit at the base. You fold your knees to your chest and hug them. You lay your head down.
This is a nice place to rest. The air is fresh here. The ground is softened with the snow. You close your eyes. You don't want to go on.
đ
The sky softens to a hazy grey blue. Your teeth chatter as your joints ache. Your clothing is damp from the steady drift of snow. You shiver as you keep your arms across your chest, your leg hooked over the other.
The talk oak keeps watch over you. He will guard you until you're gone. You look up at the branches. Spindly and barren.
Someone said, you don't know who, that once you fall asleep, it's easy. That's the problem. You can't sleep.
Your ears hurt. Your teeth too. You've never been this cold.
You hate waiting. You push the hood down to expose your head to the wind. Then you peel off your gloves and toss them away.
Next you unzip the jacket but can't lift yourself to get it off. You untie your boots and kick them away. When you're ready, that same someone said you get all warm.
You close your eyes again. Your feet and hands throb. Cold, cold, cold. That's all you can think of.
You stay like that, listening to the gales whistling around you and the tree. You let the world blow around you and through you.
You wince as something touches your chin. You try to flick it away instinctively. It frames your chin. A hand.
Your eyes snap open and find another pair. The man is silent as he touches your face, pressing his knuckles to your forehead. His cheekbones are defined and he has a cleft in his chin. His complexion is kissed by the temperature.
He unzips his jacket and you shake your head. You can't lift your arms to make him stop. He puts the cost around you. It smells like his sweat.
He covers your feet next. Your head lolls in defeat. Why can't this world just let you go?
Maybe you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to see your father and brother again. You have to live and remember what you did.
The man picks you up. Still not a word. He marches between the trees. You notice the strap on his shoulder. He has your rucksack.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
Lloyd puts Patty in front of you. You put your hand on her back foot and close your eyes. Your head is as hazy as the steamy bath was.
A soft ripple rolls over you as he pulls the duvet across you. There's no comfort in the downy coverlet, only another weight hanging off you. You want desperately to hide but your eyelids paint a canvas for tinted visions.
You stop in front of the basket of vine tomatoes and flip open the weekly flyer. Items are circled in red Sharpie, fusing you through the shopping trip. Slanted capitals make note of quantity. Four tomatoes, medium to large.
You place them in a paper bag and fold the top. You set them in the basket of the cart and search out the fresh oregano on special. You keep a deliberate path, weaving through the aisles of colourful produce.
As you push through to the bakery, the cart collides with an unexpected obstacle. You look up at the man as he claims a loaf of sourdough, though it seems a thoughtless act. He glances over at you and his forehead creases. Tall, dark curls, deep line in his cheeks and catered scarring.
"Scuse me, miss." His voice is like a spade scraping through gravel.
You stare at him in indecision. Do you go around? Do you wait?
The latter is your choice as you can't move. The man looks at the bread and turns it in his hands, almost as if he's never seen a loaf before. He glances up at you.
"Any suggestions?" He asks. "Wife says she wanted bread... Didn't say what kind."
You hesitate. You try to imagine this man with a wife. Something about him makes that difficult to envision.
You look down at the flyer; you need black rye. The kind with molasses. Your dad likes it best.
"Thats good." You point to the sourdough. "They have baguettes on special." You peek at the flyer.
He sniffs and the paper crinkles around the bread as he puts it back. "Mind if I borrow that for a second? Didn't see none at the door."
You don't want to be rude. You hand over the paper. He takes it and narrows his eyes as he flips through.
"Organized...." He comments as his wife thumb brushes the red sharpie. You squirm.
"Yeah, uh... I have to get home." You say and reach for the flyer.
He holds onto it for a moment as he considers you. "Husband? Must be impatient for a nice cooked meal from a doll like you."
You would laugh if he didn't make your insides curdle. You close your fingers around the edge of the paper. He lets it go. It nearly scatters as you catch it frantically.
"K, then. Have a good one, dolly." He tucks his hands into his pockets and spins on his heel. He goes without a loaf of bread as he whistles down the next aisle.
You open your eyes as a familiar smell tickles your nose. Black tea. You look over as Lloyd blows over the top of the porcelain cup. His eyes snag on yours.
"I heard tea is... Calming." He says. "I'm not a fan but... Here ya go."
You push away the duvet and sit up. You hook your finger under his and he carefully hands over the cup. You use your other hand to steady it by the brim. You dip your chin gratefully.
"Wasn't sure if you were sleeping but-- Woah, careful, don't burn yourself." He warns.
You stop and blow over the tea like he did. His lips slant. He sniffs.
"Look. We don't gotta talk about it in detail. Just want you to know it's wiped. No one will ever know." Lloyd assures. "Not even good ole Roccy."
You wince and look at him. How does he know who that man is? He exhales and shrugs.
"Baby face, I got a line on every rat-face fuck sucking at his fat tears," he scoffs. "We both know you did the right thing. And that's all we need to say, huh?"
You lower your head and sip the tea. You're not sure you've ever done anything right.
"Where is the balsamic?" Your father searches the basket of groceries.
"Father, I... I thought... I must have forgot. Let me check the receipt." You search your pockets.
"Hm. You have change? I gave you the exact amount."
"Yes."
"Keep it. Go back tomorrow. We don't need it today." He assures you. "I will show you how to make hummus instead."
"But I've made hummus before."
"Yes, but this is the family recipe. From my great grandmother." He counters.
You start with chick peas as your father guides you through the spices then some lemon juice and zest. As he perches on his stool, you follow his direction. It's far too much on his knees for him to be running in and out of the pantry.
"See, you must use the mortar and pestle to get the old world touch," he laughs proudly. "And you will tell me it is the best you've ever had. And it is."
As you finish mixing it all up, he guides you to drizzle olive oil over the top and some parsley. You nearly dump a whole clump onto it as a knock comes at the door. Silence sinks in the air.
You hear a click. "Father? Should I answer the door?" Amir asks. "Father, are you here?"
Your father pushes himself up with the counter. He limps past you. You turn and follow him. Amir stands in his bedroom door. You dad girds him with an open palm.
"In with your brother," your father commands.
You look at Amir then scurry over to him. He backs into his room and shuts the door. You share a quizzical look.
Your father clears his throat and raises his voice. "We do not take solicitors. Kindly pass by."
Another knock answers his dismissal. Your father sighs.
"Please, pass by. We are not accepting visitors." He speaks sternly; sterner than you've ever heard.
There's a loud thump, then a crack. Your father grunts. Another cracks and something hits the floor. You press yourself to the door but Amir stops you from opening it. He traps you against the door and hushes you.
"You are an old man, Mo." The scraping voice stills your blood. You know it. You whimper and push against Amir. It is the man from the grocery.
'Never talk to strangers.' How many times did your father bid you? How many times did you obey? Only once did you forget...
Once is more than enough.
You point to the window. Lloyd follows your finger. "Outside?" He asks.
You stand up. He does too. He doesn't stop you, only follows you.
You go downstairs and around to the back door. You emerge into the evening light. The shadows give an eerie feel to the yard.
"You forgot someone," Lloyd catches up to on the bottom step of the deck. He holds Patty out. You take her and stride forward.
You walk along the rose bushes, barren with the creep of winter's chill. You're cold but you don't shiver. You stop and touch a brittle thorn.
I'll only get you hurt, you pet Patty. You know. That's what I do.
She's quiet. She has been. You stare into the tangle of branches.
Your father loved his garden. It was small but vibrant. He loved to sit there and tell you about all the different stems and stamen. He loves you too but like the rose bush, you only stuck him with your thorns.
You hang your head. You remember what you learned. You remember what you are. You won't ever let yourself forget.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. This chapter has mentions of blood and violence. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
The click of the buckle makes your ears throb. Everything is so loud and bright. You blink as you tried to ward the world off.
You grab at the belt across your chest and a hand covers yours.
"Hey. Leave it. We gotta go." Lloyd's voice grates in your ears but you can't see him. You can only see the blood on your hands and clothes.
"Shit!" The car shifts and a door slams. The motor flips and hums. Something drones. "Hey, hey, I need a cleanup." Something taps. "Coordinates sent. Place is empty, I pulled the alarm... Locked the door. Should hold..." He pauses and you feel a squeeze on your arm. "Sweetheart, breathe." He puts his large hand on your chest and rubs. "Stop holding it."
You exhale as pins and needles speckle over you. Your head lolls and your body slowly slides until the door stops you. He keeps his hand on your side.
"You did good. Alright? You're okay." He pays your leg. "Right?"
You slump, paralysed, as the world rushes by. You can smell blood, you feel it on your skin. Each time you breathe, you feel that man's life draining from his body. Your hand thrums with each furious plunge of the knife.
He deserved it...
The car stops suddenly. The engine quiets and movement stirs all around you. You stare at the blood in the creases of your knuckles, caked into your nail beds. As the door opens, the tension against your chest releases. You fall only to be caught in a pair of arms.
You sway through existence until it all still again. Something warm grazes your cheek, caressing until your eyes come into focus. Lloyd cradles your head as he sits on the edge of the bed and you lay across it. He rubs his thumb along your jaw.
"Hey, sunshine, you hear me?" He coaxes. "That's it. Hey, you're safe. Alright?"
You blink. You don't believe him. He drags his hand down your neck.
"I'm gonna get you cleaned up, okay? Nose looks pretty gnarly." He touches your shirt and you wince. You shove his hand away. "Sweetheart, please, I'm helping here."
You swat him with your other hand then push on his chest with both. He sighs and draws away. He stands and the bed bounces slightly with the sudden change in weight.
He stares at you. You lift your hands and examine the reddened lines of your palms. You're shaking.
He exhales and stomps away. You stay like that. You can't stop looking at the blood. You rub your thumbs against your palms so it flakes away but the taint remains.
"Baby face," Lloyd startles you as he returns. He puts something in front of your hands. It's soft. You push your fingers into the fur as your eyes take in Patty's beaded ones. You hug her to you.
You roll onto your side and squeeze. Patty, I've done something bad. Something horrible, but I had to. He deserved it.
Yes, he did.
I know but... does that mean Amir deserved it too? Can anyone deserve it?
Be good, Patty girds. You did the right thing.
"You... you gotta let me clean you up," Lloyd grips your arm lightly. "Please."
Please... he's never used that word. Not with you.
You roll onto your back and look up at him. He cautiously reaches for you. He makes you sit up and pushes on your jacket. You let him take it off as Patty sits in your lap. Then he unbuttons your shirt. You shiver but don't stop. Not even as the air kisses all your scars.
You hunch and hang your head. He's delicate as he strips away the bloodied clothes. There's red spatter down to your toes. His fingertips linger and drag as he eases you out of the layers.
He takes it all away; your pants, your socks, your shoes. He bundles it all up in a plastic bag.
"Got a friend. He'll deal with the rest." He says.
You bring Patty to your stomach. The last time anyone saw you like this... you spasm at the memory of ice cold water scouring you. You fold in half around the fuzzy plush.
"I'm just gonna get you in the tub," Lloyd says as the plastic rustles. "Alright?"
He hesitates before he leaves. A moment later, the thrum of water rushes through the pipes. You tremble and rock Patty.
I know, it's a lot of blood. It's his. You wouldn't believe how much there was.
Lloyd comes back. He bends over you and slides his arms beneath you. He lifts you and turns with you slowly. You can feel his muscles straining but not too much. He's strong enough.
He takes you into the bathroom and angles you down into the large basin of the tub. The warm water laps around your soles and bottom. He leans you against the cool porcelain. Your skin bristles with goosebumps.
His hands brush down your body. They add to the warmth brewing from the water. You bask in that sensation.
He backs away again. You put Patty on the ledge to keep her from getting wet. As Lloyd returns, you flinch at his reach. He frames your face with one hand and feels along your nose with his thumb.
"Not broken. Swollen and a bit bruised." He declares. Your eyes zero in on his. He looks back intently. "Concussed, I think."
He goes to draw away and you catch his wrist. He stops and his throat tightens. His hand is warm. You slip your grasp up and pull his hand to your cheek. You cling to him and shiver.
You can't remember the last time you were touched so gently? The last time you knew anything but malice. You just want a bit of tenderness.
He eases and presses his palm to your cheek. His fingertips rub your temple as his other hand comes up to pet your hair.
"Whatever you need, sunshine." He stays bent over the side of the tub. "You just let me know. However you can."
Warnings: This will include dark elements. This chapter has graphic blood and violence. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
Lloyd approaches the treadmill as your feet hit the belt in quick succession. Your breath is shallow and hot. He puts his hand near the controls as you look up at him.
"We should get you out of the house." He says.
You narrow your eyes. You tap the button to increase the speed. He sighs and hits another; the power button. The belt slows and you do to keep from slipping. You grab the handles and glare at him.
"We're not headed to the range, alright? Chill out." He backs up and crosses his arms. "You gotta go dress like a human."
You tilt your head. Isn't this what he wanted? A weapon, not a person.
You hop off the treadmill and sidestep him. You grab Patty from the bench with your towel and water bottle. He follows.
"You've been sweating your ass off. I'm sure you're starving. Let's get something nice." He says.
You sip from the wide straw as you push through the door with your shoulder. He slaps his hand on it and shoves it wider. You head down the hall.
"You know... I could be a fucking bitch too but I haven't. Especially after last week. You know how many people put a gun in my face and walk away?"
You hug the bottle with Patty and jam your thumb up. He's been nagging you for days. Whatever. If he wants to go pretend he's doing you a favour, sure.
He follows out upstairs. You get to the bedroom door and stop to face him. You show your palm to stop him. He stares. You shut the door in his face.
You put Patty down. She says you're being stubborn. Maybe you should've tried that sooner. But he hasn't hurt you. He could have. You don't get it, Patty. You just don't.
You go into the bathroom and wipe off with cold water. You strip off your shirt and wash away the sweat on your face, shoulders and chest. You tidy up your appearance as best you can. Enough to keep him off your back.
You go out and pick out something with colour. A button up top with ribbed fabric and some tan pants. Acceptable for public.
You stop by the door. Patty watches you. You can stay, then. If you think I'm wrong too. Bye.
You emerge. Lloyd is gone. You go downstairs. He's at the door. Waiting. You notice his outfit. It's been a while since either of you have been in anything but your fitness clothes. It's been go, go, go.
His jacket has a zig zag stripe that overpowers the plain black turtleneck underneath. The blue hue of his pants matches the pattern. You approach him and step into the leather boots in your size.
"Looking like a lady again," he comments.
You don't look at him. You grab your coat. It's getting colder by the day. That's the only sign that the time passes.
He opens the door. You trail him to the car. You sense him watching you.
"Hey, where's the teddy bear?"
You tweak a brow. It's not a bear.
"Yeah, I know. Whatever it is..." he huffs and opens the car door.
He drops in and you get in the back. He shuts the door and checks the mirror. His gaze meets yours in the reflection.
"You can come up front." He says. You don't move. "Buckle up."
You don't. You sit back and wait. He pulls his seat belt down and starts the engine. He backs out silently.
You stare at your knees. You're not sure about how to go forward. You feel stuck and you know he feels it too. He's stuck with you. You just have to keep up until the inevitable.
You don't feel anything when you think about it. Even with the certainty of it. Knowing that the day you go ahead with his plan, it's the last. It's over. You just wish you were more sure it would mean something. It won't bring back what you lost. Not them or yourself.
"Hey, you good?" He asks.
You exhale loudly. He clucks and drives on. You look out the left window.
You lose yourself in the motion of the car. You tilt your head to get a kink out of your neck. When you're moving, you don't feel all the aches. You don't feel much. You don't think.
The car slows and he pulls in around a black building. There's shiny cars all around. You vaguely catch the neon blue marquee. A restaurant? Bar?
He gets out then opens the back door. He doesn't say a word. You get out and follow him around the front.
A man in black stands at the door. He looks Lloyd up and down. He looks wary but doesn't stop either of you.
Lloyd leads you to a table in the corner. You scan the space. The bar is geometric and sleek. Glass shelves are lit from behind and lined with tall and colourful bottles. It's one of those places where everything has character. Even before, it wasn't a place you'd go.
"You a whiskey girl? Gin?" He leans an elbow on the table. "Vodka?"
You raise your brows and look at him.
"Wine? Red or white?" He wonders.
You wave your hand.
"Sober as an estranged dad trying to win his family back, huh?" He scoffs.
He cranes to look around. He coughs and turns back to you. He taps his fingers on the table then stands.
"Fine, I'll improvise."
He stands and struts up to the bar. Your eyes wander again. There's other people. Couples speaking lowly, larger groups with a bit more zest and empty glasses littered around their booth. Your eyes cling to one person in particular.
He's there with a woman. She's pretty. She smiles at him and flicks her blond hair. She's bright and bubbly and lively. She hasn't ever been afraid.
Lloyd sits across from you and blocks your view. He puts a glass in front of you. It's bright and pink.
"Strawberries and scream or some this," he says. "It's on special. Ladies' night. In a place like this, I don't fucking think so."
You look down at the glass. You fight to contain the peak within. You're confused and dizzy and burning from the inside. You are wrong. It's not him.
You pick up the drink. You smell it. It smells sweet. He has a dark drink with a single orb of ice in it.
"Scotch? Wanna try?" He offers.
You sip it. It's not bad but it burns your throat. Your cheeks pinch and you set it down.
"Cheers," he clinks his glass off yours before you let it go. "Don't drink too fast."
You chew the inside of your lip. You take a deep breath. Control. That's what you've been fighting for. To make everything stay still. Just so you can try to figure it out.
You curl your knuckles and they crack loudly. Lloyd glances at them, then your face. You tense at the rocky laughter from across the bar. From behind him. You don't need to see to know who.
"Hey, if you want a soda, I can--"
You quiet him by seizing the drink. You lift it and drain half. You grip it tight to keep from trembling. That laugh! That laugh! You feel the blaze behind your eyes and the throbbing in your ribs. You can taste dust and iron.
"Maybe I'll go for one of those second round. Must be tasty," he remarks.
You lift your chin and stare at him. Can he tell? Can he see that you're struggling just to sit still?
You cradle the drink between your hands. He nurses his.
"It's nice to get out, huh? You hungry? I can grab a menu. They do truffle fries? Ever had them?" He yammers.
You're not sure if he's trying to distract himself or you. Your eyes catch the shadow behind him. That man lumbers toward the sign with the little people over it; Restrooms.
You sniff and empty the glass. Your ears are ringing. You stand without thinking.
"Woah? I can get the menu--"
You point to the sign then yourself. He follows the gesture. "Oh, sure. Breaking the seal already."
You shuffle away. You focus on keeping a calm even gate, even as you want to hurtle forward. You slowly traipse down the hall, past the clanking kitchen. You walk past the women's room and stop outside the next.
You touch the door. You cautiously push until it opens. The voices from the kitchen and bar mingle to hide the hinge's whisper. The man's at the urinal, a hand on the wall as his piss hits the metal wall. The tattoos on his knuckles stick in your vision; X's and O's.
He sighs. You notice the sheath on his belt. It peeks out from under the hem of his tailored jacket.
You lean into the closed door. You can go. You can leave. You don't have to do anything.
Your feet move on their own. Your heart beat buzzes in your ears and your fingers tingle. You focus on the sheath.
The man groans as his stream continues. "Shit. Fucking beer..."
He leans his head forward as you slip your hand under his jacket. You grasp the handle in his slack pants and slide the blade free. You pull back and lean on your heel. You look up at his broad shoulders.
You retreat until there's a few feet between you. He sets his feet and wobbles as he zips up his fly. Your throat locks and your eyes sear. This is for Amir.
You hurl yourself forward and leap up. The man grunts and staggers. You hook your arm around his neck as he claws at your forerarm. He throws himself backward and pivots, slamming into the wall.
You wheeze and he snaps his head into your nose. Your grunt and use all your strength to hold on, wrapping your legs around his stomach.
You react as if it's not you holding the knife. You just swing down. The blade sinks through the muscle that overpowered you; through the cartilage, grazing the bone.
The man gasps and you pull the knife out only to plung it back into his chest. Over and over and over. Blood slakes down his torso as he teeters and hits his knees. You keep stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. Just like he kept kicking Amir; kept hitting him, kept using a knife just like this to cut off his fingers...
You drop the knife as you feel a slice in your palm. You let go of it and it clatters to the ground. You watch that man, Razi, as he keels over against the urinal. You fall onto your knees, panting.
You look down at your hand. The handle got so slick with blood, it must've slipped. There's a gash right across your palm.
The door clicks and you pop your head up. You can barely see through the foggy adrenaline. Footsteps hurry toward you.
"Shit, sunshine, we gotta evacuate." Someone lifts you off the tile. "Right the fuck now."
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
Some time later...
Darkness, unfurling in endless waves of black and grey. Darkness that swallows. Darkness that sears.
It drives you. The thought of that door closing you in. The lock clicking into place. The voices on the other side.
They laughed at you. As you screamed and cried and thrashed. Even as you stopped and made no noise at all. When you had nothing else, they still had cruelty.
Deep breaths scour from your lungs. You throw your arms up then drop down into a plank only to push yourself back up, reaching to the sky again. You don't count, you just keep going until you're trembling. You rest then move on to the next thing.
You feel stronger and weaker at once. You need to be stronger. You have to be better than you are. Better than you've ever been. And if you're not strong, you need to just keep going.
"Ready?" Lloyd comes up behind you as you get into position for your set of pushups. You pause in a plank.
"We're going to the range. I told you last night."
You lower yourself then push up. You pump your arms as you raise and drop your weight. He sighs.
"Your arms are going to be shaking too much to aim," he nudges your foot with his. "Let's get to it. Gonna be out there a while. Wanna get as much daylight as we can."
You keep going. He can wait. How long did you wait?
He clucks. He lets the silence simmer. They get longer, thicker each time.
"It's progress. You're gonna need to be a dead shot."
You stop and hop up. You grab the sweat towel from next to Patty. You wipe your face and arms. You pick up the platypus and face him.
"Don't look at me like that." He arches a brow.
You just stare.
"Sweetheart..."
You sidestep him. You need a sweater. It's colder these days.
You're not mad. You're impatient. You want it to be over. However it ends. You don't expect a fairy tale.
You take Patty out of the gym and to the bedroom you sleep in. You only ever use the closet anyway. The rest remains undisturbed. You leave as little effect on this world as you can.
You put Patty on the dresser and you pick out a fresh shirt. Plain and grey. It'll come back dirty.
You go into the bathroom. You peel off your shirt and rinse your face. The water is soothing. You dry off and go back out to the bedroom.
You stop short. Lloyd is waiting. You resist the urge to look down. The tight sports bra feels like nothing at all. You try not to squirm.
"We're working together. Aren't we?" He challenges.
You reach for the shirt. He grabs it first.
"I'm talking to you."
You grab the sleeve and tug. He doesn't relent. Your eyes crawl up to his face.
"The not talking thing, I adapted, baby face, but this, the 'tude, not doing it." He sneers.
You roll your eyes and yank on the shirt again. He pulls back. You huff and let it go.
You turn and go to the dresser. He follows. He catches the drawer before you can open it. You spin and face him again. He's closer than you expect. He stares at you.
You stand in silence. Neither of you move. Not until he offers the shirt.
"I'll be waiting. Get your shit together." He shoves the fabric into your hand and turns away.
He goes and you pull the shirt on. He's not the only one tired of this. You head down after him with Patty under your arm.
Maybe this is all a big mistake. A false dream. Well, you don't expect anything more than a nightmare ahead.
đ
"Getting better." Lloyd hollers.
You wonder if he ever shuts up.
You focus and fire again. Your shots aren't far off but you could do better. You have to do better.
You fix your aim. Fire again. The recoil flows through you but you keep steady. Three more times.
"You're a certified killer, sunshine." Lloyd chimes.
You lower the gun and look at him. He tilts his head. "It's a good thing. Isn't that what you want?"
What you want? You never wanted any of this. Not Rocco. Not him.
But you want to hurt people who hurt you, Patty argues. You sniff at the suggestion.
You grit your teeth and turn to face him completely. Your eyes drift to the target out in the field then to him again. You take a step back.
"Look, whatever's up your ass, you need to pull it out. Not really sure since all I've been saying is that you're doing good. I'm being nice even though you tend to list to the left--"
You raise the gun and aim it right at him. His smirks falls. He moves so fast, you don't have time to react.
The gun is on the ground and his thick arm is around your neck. You squirm as he squeezes from behind.
"The fuck did I tell you? Never aim that shit at anyone you don't mean to kill." He snarls.
You touch his arm but don't struggle. If he does it, maybe that's best. He's wasting his time.
"Jesus!" He shoves you away from him.
You stumble and keep your back to him. He sighs and grabs your arm. He spins you to face him.
"The fuck is your problem? You wanna die? Is that it? That the shit you're pulling?" He points in your face. "I got news for you, I put too much fucking ass sweat in to throw that away so get your shit together. Now."
You stare at his finger. You step closer. His eyes narrow. You bite his index and he yowls, ripping his hand back.
"Argh, the fuck?"
Yes, Patty, I know it's not nice but he's not nice.
You kick the gun and stomp away. He follows. You listen to his step and pick up your pace. He yanks you back by the back of your shirt.
"You're not walking away now. Not from me." He shakes you.
You hit him in the stomach. He growls and bats your hand away. You throw another strike.
"Stop!" He demands as he grabs your shoulders. "Just stop. Would you fucking tell me what the shit is going on? Tell me anything?"
You stare at him. You hang limply from his grasp. He exhales.
"Don't you fucking see how much I try? I don't fucking try. Not for no one." His thumbs rub your shoulders. "Shit..." He lets you go. "Fuck."
He throws his hands up and spins away. He stomps past you and crosses the ground. He picks up the pistol and Patty. He takes both and storms toward you.
He offers the gun and the plush.
"If you're going to do it, aim right at the base of the skull."
You take both and watch him without emotion. He clucks and turns away. You watch him strut off towards the other side of the field where he left the car.
Even if you could physically tell him what's going on, you don't think you could begin to explain.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
âAgain,â Lloyd demands.
You hesitate but hurl your fist forward into the punching bag. The impact isnât as hard as you expect. He tuts as he stands with hands on his hips. His looming presence makes you sweat more than the activity.
âCome on, sunshine, I know you got more than that.â
You drop your fist and push your shoulders up. Youâve been trying all day. Heâs not happy with any of it. He keeps saying more, more, more.
âAlright, day one. Canât push you too hard.â He sniffs and exhales heavily. His disappointment is potent.
âTomorrow, weâll focus on conditioning. Give your arms a break. Treadmill.â He grabs the empty shake cups and his sweat towel. You lift Patty. Sheâs tired. So are you.
You follow Lloyd out of the gym. You stare at his heels. He might not see how hard you tried but maybe you arenât.
âGet some water before you disappear. You gotta understand. This is a big deal. You need to hydrate and you need to eat.â He leads you into the kitchen. âThatâs how you get strong.â
Right. You arenât strong.
He puts the cups in the sink and pops open a cupboard. He hands you a tall glass. You take it and fill it from the fridge.
âLook, we just started. I get it. Iâll try not to expect too much.â He says. âBut try to give me something.â
You keep your arm hooked around Patty and give a thumbs up. He stares at it. Youâre not sure thatâs enough. He turns away.
âAlright.â He utters and grabs a glass for himself.
You back up until youâre at the door. You leave him and squeeze Patty. You donât know what youâre doing. Youâre not sure you can do this. She says you can if you really want to.
Well, thatâs the big question; what do you want? You havenât thought about things like that in so long. You lived in certainties. You wouldnât get what you want or need. You would never get out. But look at you now. No longer in the dark, maybe one day, you wonât be afraid either.
đ
Youâre trying. You do what Lloyd says you should. You drink water. You eat all your food, even when it hurts your stomach, you do your stretches, and you stick to the schedule.
You donât try to track the days. Time stopped meaning anything back in the darkness. Still, Lloyd maintains a sense of urgency. There is no due date yet he wants it done. That much you can pick up.
Another day at the bag. Those are your least favourite. Even worse than pullups. You punch the bag over and over. You move your feet like he showed you, you swing out the combos. Left, left, right. Right, right, left. The noise of your fists on the bag keep a tempo.
Lloyd sighs as he watches.
âSweetheart. Put some sauce on it.â He drawls.
You look over and your next punch is off. You huff and reset your feet. You try again. He clucks and catches your arm and wrenches you away.
He swings you back to face him. He lets you go. âYouâre not getting it. You gotta get angry. You gotta use that. Youâre not going to be punching this bag forever.â
You keep your hands up. Thatâs his rule. Hands up.
âListen, alright, let meââ
He swings at you. You deflect him and keep your arms in a defensive pose. He brings up his other fist and you stop it with your forearm. He huffs again.
âGet mad, okay? Hit me back.â He keeps his fists up. âGo on.â
You stare at him. You steel yourself and throw your hand out. He knocks it away easily and makes a buzzer noise with his mouth.
âSweetie, if I wanted, Iâd have you on your back. Donât just sit there and pretend. Put something into it.â He keeps his stance. âCome. On.â
You stare at him desperately. You donât want to hurt him though. The bag canât feel. Thatâs easy.
âAlright, you gotta get in the zone. Think about it. Think about the scars.â He swats your arm tauntingly and you shy away. âThink about Rocco and his shit rats. What they did to you.â
He gets closer, giving weak punches you can swat to the side. You walk back as he advances on you. âThey left those marks on you, they took your voice.â
He tries to hit you with each statement. âHell, they gave you to me in exchange for a few dead goons.â He tries again and you dodge. âThey made you nothingââ
Itâs like heâs actually hit you. You drop your hands and stare at him. He watches you. His expression slowly shifts from mocking to concern. You quake and lift your hands. You make fists.
You canât do it. You canât hit him. You turn to the bag. You wail on it unfettered. You donât think, you just let the frustration and fury out. Your fists donât stop.
âThatâs it, baby,â Lloyd claps, âget the fucker.â
He walks a circle around you. You keep going. You donât feel the force behind the punches or the recoil of the bag, you feel nothing but helplessness. Like youâre back in the dark by yourself, waiting for the end.
âThatâs good, youâre doing good,â he encourages.
Punch, punch, punch-punch.
âAlright, slow down, you donât gotta do all that.â He girds.
You ignore him. You think of what he said. Of what they took from you. And it isnât Roccoâs men you hear in your head. Itâs the ones they took from you.
Donât give up. Not again. You did once. And itâs all your fault. Youâre here, theyâre not. Donât waste that.
âSweetheartââ
Lloyd grabs your elbow and you shove him off. Heâs too strong. You wriggle free and move away from him. You keep going.
He exhales. âYouâre gonna hurt yourself. Come on, take a breather.â
You donât stop.
You sense him walking around you but heâs not really there. Neither are you. You can do this. You have to do this. Patty agrees. Stop being weak.
The tempo of your fists continues. It slows but doesnât stop. You move your feet, shuffle, dodge, dip, just like Lloyd had you do every time. Until all you can do is keep your arms moving.
âHeyâŚâ Lloydâs soft voice wafts between the cracks of knuckles on leather. âSunshine. Sunshine, you there?â He grabs your shoulder. âYouâre barely standing. Come on.â
You throw another punch. Your arm shakes and burns. He catches your hand and guides it away from the bag. He turns you away. Your muscles burn.Â
âItâs been hours,â he hisses. âStop.â
He holds onto your hands. Youâre entire body quakes. He looks down. The hand wraps have moved to expose your knuckles. Theyâre split and swollen.
âJeez, sweetheart,â he touches the cuts lightly with his thumbs. âYou knowââ
You rip your hands away. Those things he said echo in your head. He has no idea what happened. He doesnât know anything about Rocco. Not really. He made a bad deal and youâŚ
You shake your head and stomp away from him. You pick up Patty. She knows. Sheâs the only person you can tell. You wince as you press her to your sweat-soaked shirt.
âSweetheart, look, I didnât meanââ
You donât listen to Lloyd. Heâs just the same as Rocco and his men. He just wants what you can give to him. Well, youâre not going to do this for him.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
You donât dream again. Your sleep is tenuous, splitting at each bump and scratch in the night. Even Patty canât calm you. Youâre anxious, about what, you canât choose.
About before? About the memories? About now? Lloyd? What comes next?
Thereâs a creak that chases away your last ounce of resolve. Youâre not going to get any more sleep even though you wish you could do just that forever. You hear clearly through the wall. Someoneâs moving around, trying not to make noise.
You shift and reach up. You pull the closet door open an inch and peek out. Lloyd steps back from the foot of the bed.
You exhale and push the door further. You snatch up Patty and get up. As he turns, Lloyd gives a start.
âOh, I was⌠trying not to wake you. Figured youâd need the sleep.â He says.
You glance over at the bed. Thereâs clothing there. Black under a pair of boots with thick treads. You look at him again.
âWe gotta start sooner than later,â he shrugs.
You stare at him. He crosses his arms.Â
âGet dressed. Iâll make us something to get us going. Need lots of protein, sunshine,â he winks and pulls his hand from the crook of his elbow. He reaches for you. You wince. He hesitates and lowers his hand. He pats your shoulder. âIâll be downstairs.â
He goes and you take Patty to the bed. You put her down and scrub at your eyes with the heels of your hand. Wake up! You take some deep breaths and swing out your arms.
Patty doesnât know if itâs a good idea but she also doesnât have any alternatives. If we leave, what do we do? Thatâs a good question.
You move the shoes to the floor and unfold the clothes. A tank like sports bra, a long-sleeved shirt and leggings in thin material, socks⌠That amount of detail means his mind is made up.
You leave it and go to wash your face and brush your teeth. The habit is getting easier. Youâre even starting to enjoy the sensations. You didnât realise for so long how filthy you felt. There are stains you can never wash away.
You come out and dress a piece at a time. You sit to tie the boots. You stand a peer around. You go to the mirror on the wall. The one you ignore. You look like youâre wearing someone elseâs clothes. Youâre pretending.
Maybe thatâs the answer, you turn and clomp over to Patty. Maybe you need to pretend and eventually, youâll believe. You should want this, shouldnât you? To hurt the people that hurt you? You donât want people to get hurt. You saw enough of that.
Theyâre gone, Pattyâs beady eyes make you squirm. Theyâre gone and they canât get hurt anymore. They were hurt because you did nothing. Because you couldnât. So why donât you?
Patty, itâs more complicated than that.
You tuck her under your arm and head downstairs. As you enter the kitchen, you squint and try to cover your ears, pressing the stuffed platypus to your cheek. Lloyd lets go of the blender and the motor quiets.
âShake for you,â he points to the counter. âAnd some egg bites. You know, someone bought me that shit when I got the house. Press thing or whatever. Put the eggs in and they come out looking like moose shit.â
You look at the small plate with two circular pucks on it. Yellow with flecks of red. You near and lean down to smell the eggs.
âPut some extra flavour in it.â He turns to you as he pours the contents of the blender into a tall cup. âEat the eggs.â He puts the blender jug down and twists a cap on the cup. âBring the shake.â
You press your lips tight. You pick up an egg and make yourself nibble it. He rinses out the blender and sighs.
âI donât usually cook for myself, let alone others, sunshine. Better pep up. Gonna be a long day.â He tuts.
Oh. Okay. Heâs back to that. Heâs not nice. Remember, he told you. Heâs probably the only person honest enough to say so.
You shove the whole egg bite in your mouth and split it with your teeth. It bulges in your cheeks like a squirrel. He turns back to you and lifts a brow.
âDonât hurt yourself,â he says.
You gulp it all at once and your eyes widen. He tilts his chin just and little and watches you. You blink and cough, patting your chest. You inhale and put your thumb up. Youâre fine.
He scoffs and grabs an egg of his own. âTry not to puke on my floor. I just got them polished.â
đ
You look around at the space. Youâve never been to this part of the house. Lloyd slaps the standing punching bag across from you, drawing your eyes back from the racks of weights.
His bicep bulges, exposed as he wears a sleeveless gymshirt with a little silver emblem on one side of the chest. His pants are a similar material, and his boots are like yours. He turns to you and smirks.
âBasics, baby. First things first, you need to know how to throw a punch.â He says.
You look at Patty as she perches beside your shake cup. Sheâs quiet. Hm.
âFocus,â Lloyd snaps his fingers. âLetâs gear up.â
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black roll of fabric.
âGimme your hand.â
You hesitate but offer him your limp hand. He tugs your sleeve down your forearm and you twitch. You try to pull it back down. He stops you.
You stand in silence. He brushes his thumb over the lines. The ridged scars that mark the passing of time, the crack of your resistance. You tremble at the graze of his fingertip over the scar tissue.
He clucks and puts your hand flat. âKeep still.â
He slips your thumb through the loop at the end of the loop then winds it around your hand. You watch him wrap the strip around and around. As the silence sets in, you look at him. Heâs quiet. Thereâs a stitch in his forehead. Heâs thinking.
He secures the end and exhales. He lets you go.
âOther hands,â he rasps.
You offer your other. He does the same. When heâs done, he traces the end of a scar peeking out from between the wrap and the sleeve. He shakes his head and pulls away.
You pull down your sleeves to hide the scars. You hope you didnât upset him. He backs up as he pushes his thick thumb through the loop of another wrap. He clears his throat.
You watch his diligent work as he covers his thick knuckles. His hands are so big. He probably packs a good punch. You donât know about you.
You look down at your hands. You curl them to fists. You donât think you can do it.
âAlright,â Lloyd claps. âShow me.â You pop your head up in surprise. âThrow a punch.â He commands.
Your lips turn downward and you look at your hand then at him. You have no idea. You just think of what youâve seen other people do.
You swing your left fist. You nearly fall over. Lloyd catches your strike easily. He chuckles.
âLefty, huh?â He guides you back and runs his hand down your arm. âAlright. Letâs start simple. Gotta set your feet. Posture. Then hands.â
He lets you go and looks down. He arranges his feet. âLike me, sweetheart.â
You mimic him. He looks you up and down. He narrows his eyes. âThis foot, shift a bitâŚâ he points. âGood girl.â He winks. âHey,â he meets your gaze, âwe got time. The longer the way, the harder Roccoâs gonna shit himself.â
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
You smell something wonderful. You bring Patty with you as you follow your nose. It's a familiar smell. Comforting, even. It reminds you of a fuzzy feeling. Something not so scary.
You enter the kitchen as Lloyd hisses and pinches the corner of a paper bag, pulling the top apart. He dumps the contents into a large bowl. Steam rises from the popped kernels.
"There you are." He says as he tosses the empty bag. "Just getting the snacks ready."
You stare. Snacks? You just ate dinner an hour ago.
You near the other side of the counter. He watches you.
"You wanna get this?" He slides the bowl across.
You purse your lips curiously.
"Out to the front room. Alright?"
You reach to grab the bowl. You manage to pull it to the edge and stand on your toes to get your arm around it. You back in up.
"Won't be long, sunshine." He promises.
You look between Patty and the bowl. What's this all about? Patty says don't worry, it smells delicious! Well, sure. Compared to what you had before, it sure does.
You go to the front room. You stand behind the couch and wait. Should you sit? What exactly is he up to? You never know with him.
You cradle Patty and the popcorn as you sway absently. A glass clink makes you jolt. Lloyd enters with two bottles in hand.
"Well, take a seat," he says as he carries his handful to the table. He easily has his fingers hooked around the necks of the bottle. He sets out two coasters from a stack and puts them down.
You sidle around the couch. He takes the bowl, surprising you again. He puts it on the table.
You hesitate as he flops onto the couch. He slaps the cushion next to him then reaches for the slender remote on the table. It looks tiny in his hand.
Your eyes flick up to the TV as it blooms to life. Your gaze sticks to it, hypnotized by the bright colours. He flicks through the menu. Wow.
"Come on," he grabs your wrist and tugs.
You sit and draw free of his grasp. You hug Patty and lift her higher to see the screen. Lloyd sniffs and shifts beside you. He clicks his tongue.
"I don't know what you like so I just let ChatGPT choose. I don't know." He casually rolls his thumb over the remote.
You read the title as the screen changes. The Devil Wears Prada. It sounds familiar.
"Hey, you want some of these lights off?" He asks as he puts the remote down.
You don't answer. He doesn't really need one. He leans over to shut off the lamp on the end table.
"Try the soda. Mexican Coke. The good stuff." He points to the tall bottle.
You look between the TV and the low glass table. Why is he doing all this? He did say he wants you to help him with Rocco. So he has to soften you up, right?
Just have fun, Patty says. When's the last time you did?
You take the cold bottle. It's frosty and makes you shiver. You sniff the top before you drink. The fizz burns your nostrils.
You pop your mouth off and cover your lips. A bubble rises in your chest as the soda hits your stomach acid. A belch forces through your lips. Your eyes go wide as they water.
Lloyd chuckles and scoops up his own soda. "Damn, sunshine. Good one."
You put the soda down. You didn't mean to do that. You teeter on the edge of the couch.
He grabs a handful of popcorn, "can't eat all this myself."
You bite your lip. He did go to all this trouble. You put Patty between you and him. You take a smaller scoop than him. You pick at it a kernel at a time, chewing carefully.
You watch the screen and try to focus on the story. It's about a young woman, a career woman, someone with goals. That's nothing like you.
As you taste the salty and buttery popcorn, an airy sensation fills your head. You remember sitting in the dark, not the bad dark, a nice one, and a big screen in front of you. The smell and crunch of kernels and candy, the slurp of straws, and there was someone with you. Someone you knew. Someone you loved. You try to remember more but it hurts.
"Why don't you chill? Sit back?" Lloyd startles you as he brushes your arm. You flinch and he pulls his hand away. "Woah, hey, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
You put your chin down and place your hands on the cushions. You push yourself back on the couch. You snatch Patty and pet her fuzzy head. It's okay to miss them but don't think too much.
You watch the screen as you sense Lloyd's gaze linger on you. He hums. He shifts beside you as he relaxes back into the cushions.
The mean blond woman snarls at her assistant. You feel bad. No one should be nasty like that. Not when they have nice things and a nice job and a nice life.
You blink. Your eyelids stick to your eyeballs. Your head is getting foggy as the dimness sets in. You yawn and hug Patty closer.
You feel yourself lolling but can't stop from sinking down into your fatigue. It's been a long scary day. It settles on your like stone, weighing you down into the depths.
Silence, blackness. That's all there is. Then you hear it. The rattling breath. You sense someone nearby.
"Don't... don't..." he pleads. "They didn't... they didn't break you... they.... they can't."
"Amir..." another voice says. Is that you? "Amir, I'm sorry. Amir..."
A loud bang and blood-curdling scream casts you into white light. Your eyes flick open and you hurl forward off the couch. You knock over the popcorn as you flail and fall to the floor. You turn and crawl between the table and sofa.
"Hey, hey, sweetheart," Lloyd hooks his arms around you from behind. "You... you were dreaming. Hey. Hey. You're here. You're here." He pulls you back onto the couch.
You blink wildly and search the room. He turns you to face him as you writhe and squirm. You push on his chest, slapping it several times, then stop. He hushes you.
"Hey, you gotta stop. Just..." He peels a hand away and reaches behind you. You lean away as he gets close. He smells like burnt wood; in a good way. He puts Patty in your lap. "Take a breath."
You feel Patty's soft fur and look down at her. You inhale. He lets his hand fall down to your elbow. He's quiet as you quiver.
"Whatever's going on in that head, it can't hurt you now," he drawls gently.
You frown and turn away, curling around the platypus. It can't, but it did. That you can't change.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
You sit on the floor as you bounce Patty around. She looks happy. That's how she should be.
You lean against the wall, the sounds from the other side calming. That's not something you've felt in a long time. there's still a steady tremor within you. That little nagging caution. Something, anything can go wrong.
"Yo," Lloyd's voice is muffled as his footsteps approach the door, "where'd you go?"
You look over as he opens the door. You tilt your head up as you sit right beside the frame. He scuffs to a stop in his slippers as he turns and catches himself on the wooden trim.
"Oh, hey," he clears his throat and tugs the front of his rob snugger over his chest with one hand. "Didn't want you to get lost."
You stare up at him. You stand and rest Patty against your hip. You face him. His throat bobs and his eyes scour the hall.
You point to the cut on his lip. He feels it. "Yeah, it'll be fine."
You frown and point to his neck. There's a bruise there. More peeking out from under his robe, along the top of his chest. He sniffs and struts back into the bedroom. You step into the doorway and watch him approach the long dresser with the mirror over it. He pulls the top of the rope open. There's a cut along his ribs.
"Look, I had to push things along to get back to you. Took a bit of collateral." He adjusts his robe again. "Nothing you need to worry about."
You watch him. Does he not trust you? Should he? So far, you've proven yourself incapable of a lot of things. Of anything.
"Hey, from what I've seen, you've taken a few good licks yourself." He says as he opens the top drawer of the dresser. "Don't you worry about my pretty little head. You need to think about you. I need you to do that if we're going to do what needs to be done."
He slides the drawer and opens the one under it. He takes out a shirt. "You get what that is right?" He glances over at you. You blink. "Killing Rocco and every shit weasel in that tacky house."
He shuts that drawer and goes to the closet, still open. He shuffles through the hangers.
"And go get yourself something to eat. I gotta cover up my ass." He snickers.
Your eyes go wide as he turns to you. You back up and squirm. That thought makes your face all hot.
"Unless you wanna a peek," he snorts.
You nearly fall over as you back out of the doorway. His cackle echoes behind you as you flee. You think he's joking but you're not so good with judging those things.
You flit down the stairs and don't stop until you get to the kitchen. You put Patty on the counter and look her in the face. She's laughing. Was it really a joke? Don't think too much, she says.
Lloyd's other words nip at you. He came back here because you messed up. Again. That alarm ruined whatever he was doing. You should make it up to him.
Coffee. He likes that. You've seen him drink it. A lot.
You go to the machine. You stare at it. How does it work?
There's a canister in the cupboard above. You hate to poke around but you won't make a mess. You should put it... in here? You do your best not to break anything. You use the tiny scoop to measure. How much. You read the can. You're not too good at math.
You close the lid and hit the button. Several, then it starts to make that noise.
Lloyd startles you with a sigh. He struts in in a pair of cream coloured slacks and banana coloured shirt. He likes to dress bright.
"I smell coffee."
You turn to him. You point to the machine then him. "For me?" He smiles.
You face your palms up in a shrug. You tried.
He nears and takes a cup down from the cupboard. He pours from the half-filled carafe. You bounce on your feet and swipe Patty off the counter.
"You wanna try some?" He asks.
You stare.
"Okay. Well, what about the Platypus? She thirsty?"
You look at Patty. Can he hear her too? He laughs again.
"You're cute," he says. Then coughs. He brings the mug up to taste. He coughs louder and covers his mouth. "Oh fu--" He stops himself. "I see you like it strong."
You bounce on your feet and pout.
"No worries, sunshine. Just needs some sugar," he reaches for a gold dish and removes the lid. "Nothing a bit of sweetness can't fix."
You bite the inside of your lip. Shouldn't he be mad? He pours sugar into the coffee and swirls it. He sips. "Better. See?"
The tick in his cheek suggests otherwise. You grab the coffee urn and take it to the sink. You dump it out.
He clucks. "You don't gotta be like that."
You put Patty down. You rinse out the urn and dry it. You put it back.
"Come on. I coulda just said it was shit. I was nice."
You look down. It isn't him. It's you. You can't do anything.
"It's the thought that counts. That's what people say, isn't it?"
You swing your arms around. What do you know about people.
"Jeez, you're a fucking trip, sunshine." He takes another drink. "I need this, you know? After the last few days, I'd drink piss just to stay awake."
You squint at him. His brows rise. "Tough audience. Alright. Well, we gotta go fix that shit you fucked up in the yard."
Your eyes round.
"What the fuck do I care? The gardener will be the one dealing with the dirt. I just wanna get the glass up. No one needs to be cutting themselves up." He beckons you after him. You grab Patty and follow. "Nah, we gotta be focused on cutting up Rocco, don't we?" He reaches back to lightly slap your arm. You wince. "Isn't that right? You do some damage with a hanger, don't you?"
You exhale heavily.
"Look, you gotta start taking only about two percent of what I say seriously or you're gonna have a bad time," he says. He grabs your wrist and pulls you up beside him. "And stop acting like my damn shadow. Keep up."
You hurry up to keep pace with him. It's not your fault. His legs are so much longer. You slip free of his grasp. Patty says he's right. You need to try more.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
Pattyâs gone. You donât know where she went. You donât know where you are. Only that youâre in danger.
The siren wails in your ears and rattles your skull. You plunge into the darkness and close your eyes. Hide. Thatâs all you can do. Donât let anyone hear or see you.
You cover your ears as you crumple into a ball. You curl up into yourself as the noise blares on. You just want it to stop.
You shudder as you try not to think of another deafening alarm. Legs moving, arms pumping, you ran through those blinding halls until you were out of breath. Until you were knocked to the floor and dragged into the black once more.
You clutch your head as the walls quake with sound. The time stretches torturously in every piercing decibel. You let it roll over you as you shrink down. The only way to be safe is to be nothing. To be no one.
Silence. Sudden and even more painful than the alarm. You tremble in the darkness as the empty house pulses like static. Footsteps come clearer, closer. You hear them coming. Theyâre going to find you.
Distant but there. You can hear them through the walls. A door opens, and another. The steps rush down the hall. Doors swing on hinges, soles beat the hardwood and eventually descend down the stairs and disappear.
A deep voice hollers. âWhere are you?â It echoes and fades out to nothing. You donât hear anything else.
You stay as you are. Waiting. You think of showing yourself but itâs too late to appease.
Footsteps again. Slower, heavier. Curses spill off a venomous tongue.
âFuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, piss, shit,â he snarls. âGoddamn shit.â The tempo of his pacing is dizzying. âFuckingââ
He stops short. You brace yourself. He hums. Soft rustling and lighter steps, closer and closer.Â
You open your eyes and sit up. You reach up and push yourself up the wall. Your legs are stiff and heavy. You feel around. You need something. Anything.
You grab a hanger from the bar and strip the shirt off. It isnât much. Heâs right outside the door. Slowly, the closet opens. You jump out and swing the metal hanger.Â
Lloyd recoils and clutches his cheek in pain. He growls and stomps his foot. He puts his forearm up to block your next strike.Â
His pupils are dilated and dangerous. Then, all at once, they shrink. He stares at you as he lets the fury drain from his face.
âWoah, sweetheart, itâs just me,â he latches onto the hanger. âHey, hey, itâs just me.â
He yanks the hanger and reaches for you with his other hand. Your lashes flutter and you let go of the hanger. You cower. He tosses the bent metal away.
âHey, donâtâŚâ he puts his hands on your shoulders. âCome on, sweetheart.â
He moves you around and sits on the bench at the foot of the bed. He lets you go and bends to pick something else. Your eyes search the room. Itâs different. Not yours.
âHere.â He holds out the fuzzy brown shape. Patty. She says youâre okay.
You take the platypus and hug her. You donât remember dropping her. Youâre happy sheâs safe but you need to take better care of her.
âWhatâre you doing in my closet?â He asks.
You look up at him meekly and just as quickly put your eyes to the floor. Youâre embarrassed.
âI got the notification. Alarm was tripped. Got here as fast as I could.â
He swipes a shank of hair away from his face. Thereâs a welt where the hanger struck but more too; he has blood along his hairline and a cut on his lip. He smells like gunpowder.
âHad to finish the contract the messy way,â he scoffs and steps closer. âYou good?â
You push your lower lip out. You canât look at him. You just raise your finger and jab it into your chest.
âHm?â He hums.
You poke your chest harder. It was you. All you. Because youâre stupid.
âYouâre alright. Itâs just you?â He asks.
You point again. You hide your face against Patty and rock. Lloyd exhales.
âGood,â he says and sits beside you. âI wasnât looking forward to more bullshit.â
He sits there, waiting. You turn your head and look at him, still hunched over Patty. He rubs his shoulder as he rolls it. He hisses.
You watch him. You frown. You point at his cheek. Where you hit him. He touches it and winces.
âYou got me good,â he smirks. âThatâs good. Means youâre not totally hopeless.â
You drop your hand. Youâre sorry for hurting him. You sit up straight then offer Patty. He looks at her.
âSheâs yours.â
You huff. You lift her and rub her soft fur against his cheek. He slowly raises his hand to grab her. You let her go.
âOh? Itâs supposed to help?â He moves her to look at her. âItâs a cute toy.â He squeezes her then strokes her head. âThink she can help you more.â
He gives her back. You cradle her and he sighs. He leans back on the heels of his hand and splays his legs wide.
âLook, sweetheart, Iâm really not used to this whole⌠taking in strays thing. Iâm not the type. But Iâm gonna need your help.â He angles his head to one side until his neck cracks. He grunts again. âYou and me. Weâre gonna get back at Rocco.â
You jerk and slide to the edge of the bench. Your leg shakes anxiously and you clutch Patty to your chest. You furrow your brow.
âYou can do it. I know you can,â he sits straight and traces the red line on his cheek. âLook what the fuck you did to me.â
Your eyes widen. It was an accident. You thought he was someone else.
âIâm gonna help.â He reaches over and slaps his hand down on your knee. âAlright? Iâll show you how.â
He squeezes your knee. His touch is warm and heavy. Whatâs he going to show you? How to hurt people? You donât know if you can.
His hand lingers. His eyes fall to it. Slowly, it drifts up toward your thigh. You tense and watch it climb. He stops and his middle finger twitches. He draws away and combs his fingers through his hair. He blows out between his lips.
âLet me wash the dead guys off of me,â he stands suddenly. âGotta⌠clear my head.â He walks to the door opposite the closet. You hear his low mutter even with his back to you. âBoth of them.â
The door shuts as you cling to Patty. She doesnât know what he meant either.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
The rest of the day is calm but you arenât. Inside, you feel that steady buzz of nerves. That anticipation. It just feels like something bad is going to happen.
You can feel that woman pushing you each time you think of what happened. Thereâs tension in the air. Does Lloyd blame you for her getting in? Is he mad you didnât do more? That you just laid there?Â
You canât know as heâs gone again. He said something about security in that agitated tone. You go into the large dining room and pull a chair up to the window. You watch the hedges and skyline through the glass.
âThere you are,â Lloydâs proclamation follows his terse footsteps. âWe gotta chatâŚOr I got things to say.â
You keep watching the yard. You figure he can talk and you can listen. He approaches and sets something on the table.
âYou hear me, sweetheart? This is important stuff.â
You look at him. He sighs and grabs the back of the chair. He turns it to face him. You catch Patty before she can fall out of your lap.
âAlright,â He pulls an empty chair around. He tugs on the top of his pant legs as he sits. You tickle Pattyâs stomach nervously. âI gotta go. I know, bad timing but I got a contract to fulfill. And things to figure out. Rocco things.â He stretches his neck and exhales deeply. âYou obviously canât come.â
You stare at him. He waits. His eyes wander and land on the flat rectangle on the table. He reaches for it and slides it off.
âLook. I updated the system. No more sluts barging in and throwing you on the floor. Alright? Nothingâs getting past the gate. Trust.â He leans forward so his elbows are on his legs as he cradles the mystery object. âIâm not gonna be here for a few days so you gotta keep this place in shape. I made a list.â
He flips back the cover on the tablet to reveal the screen. He pauses and looks up at you. âI took the lock off this thing, you donât need to remember nothing, okay?â
You watch the glowing screen as the background flashes. He flicks up and icons appear. âItâs right here. Just tap this one.â He points to an image that looks like a checklist. âThereâs alarms and all.â
You chew your lip. He turns the tablet and hands it over. You bring your hand up and take it. You pull it closer and read the items. âWake up.â âShower and wash faceâ. âEAT!â
You look at him. None of it has anything to do with the house.
âYou can go out in the garden. Youâll be okay as long as you avoid the bees.â He girds.
Your stomach is all sloshy and uneasy. Heâs leaving. You shouldnât care but the thought of being alone in this big house is overwhelming.
Being alone is terrifying. You were alone for so long. ButâŚ
Youâre not his responsibility. Heâs already done so much. He has to do important stuff.
Patty says it will be okay. You can do the things on the list. Together.
You look at the tablet again. You bite your cheeks.
âFood is being delivered tonight. Packaged by day and meal. All labeled. Iâll leave that in the fridge.â He continues.
You stand up and hug Patty and the tablet. You stare at him as his forehead wrinkles. Your eyes fall down and you pop your thumb up behind the tablet.
âRight. Iâll lay off,â he shows his palms.
You purse your lips. It is nice of him to be concerned and he said a lot, heâs not a nice guy. Youâre in his way. Youâre a burden.
You pull Patty away from your stomach and peck his cheek with her soft beak. His eyes flicker as his face ripples in confusion. He looks at the fluffy toy.
âUh⌠thanks.â He says.
You pull Patty to your chest and step around him. You should be alone. Get used to it.
đ
As big as the house is, you can feel when Lloyd is gone. You can feel the solitary. Just like those days in the dark space. The only difference is you knew what to expect then. You knew they would only hurt you.
After a long talk with Patty, you decide to open the tablet. You shouldnât waste the effort. You should do what Lloyd says if only because itâs his house.
Youâre awake. That number one, check. Wash up. Hm.
Okay. You go into the bathroom. You put Patty on the shelf. She can supervise.
Thereâs bottles and packets and tubes. You start with the face wash. You read the directions. Itâs not as hard to do things if theyâre written down.
After the wash, tone, then moisturize. It feels like a lot for just one face but your skin is glowing and soft after. You show Patty. She agrees it looks better.
You wash quickly in the tub. Lather, rinse, etc. You donât want to linger in the water, youâre too restless.
Then you pick some clothes. A white blouse with flowers and some rose coloured pants. Patty, is this too much?
EAT! That one is all big letters. Okay, fine.
You find a tray of breakfast. Thereâs warming instructions for the microwave. You wouldnât dare use the stove anyhow.
You eat at the table then wash the container. Then itâs up to you. There arenât any other alarms until lunch.
You wander around the first floor. You lay on the leather couch with Patty. Itâs a nice lazy nothing. Then you get up and admire the little ornaments on the mantle.
Lunch time. You eat again. Youâre not used to so much food so you only have half. You put the rest away in case.
Restless, you go to the back door. He said itâs okay. You want to go out but youâre scared. You have Patty, it will be fine.
You go outside and find a bench between the rose bushes. You rock with Patty as you watch the petals flutter in the breeze and breathe in their scent. You sneeze. Oof.
Itâs going good, isnât it? Youâre doing all the things he said. But will he be happy? Or just mad he had to do all that?
He shouldâve left me in that room, Patty. Or let that man with his rifle pull the trigger. Or left me out in the wild to figure it out on my own. I donât belong here.
You belong with me, Patty insists.
Alright. I donât want to argue.
A blue shape catches your eyes. Without thinking, you stand to keep sight of it. The butterfly flaps along peacefully. Itâs so bright and pretty.
You follow it along the bushes and deeper into the lawn; past the grand fountain and the stone statues Lloyd bragged about. You think their dresses need to be pulled up.
The butterfly flutters along, hypnotizing you with its movement. Then another. That one orange and black. You follow them on and on.
You trip suddenly and knock over something hard and heavy as you fall. The pot lands next to you and cracks into pieces. You hug Patty tight as you catch your breath.
A ringing fills your ears and shakes your skull. You wince as a siren rips through the silence. The butterflies fly away. Your eyes water with the cacophony. You did something bad! Somethingâs wrong.
You get up and search around. The stone column you knocked over rolls back and stills in the dirt. You grimace and trip backwards. You spin and run toward the house.
You close your eyes as you scramble over the deck and collide with the door. The alarm is deafening. Youâre running for your life. Running from men with guns. âCome back. We just want to talk.âÂ
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader
Summary: youâre put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
Your eyes pop open at the creak in the floor. Your hand is on fire and itchy. You press your knuckles to your thigh as you bend your legs higher. You listen cautiously to the footsteps on the other side of the door.
You peek up at the slat of light around the outline of the door as they approach. You brace yourself. Donât scream. That makes it worse.
The door opens and the illusion breaks. Itâs not one of Roccoâs men come to ask you questions. Itâs Lloyd.
You donât move at first. The last two days rush through your head before you can. Lloyd bends to help you sit up.
âIf youâre gonna hide in here, at least grab a pillow,â he tuts.
You blink and rub your eye with your uninjured hand. The sting on your other throbs. Lloyd sighs as you give him the same answer as everything else. Silence.
âCome on. You canât hide in there all day.â He girds.
You draw your brows together.
âBecause I said so. Donât.â He counters as if you asked. âThe longer youâre around, the sooner youâll see, I donât need a fucking reason.â
You shift and get your knees under you. You reach for Patty, forgetting about the sting, and wince. You drop her and look at your hand.
âGonna be some time before itâs not burning like a bitch.â He picks up Patty and grabs your other wrist. He pulls you up to your feet. âYou need more cream.â
You let him drag you out. He doesnât do so meanly. When you get the the bedroom door, he lets go. He points you out ahead of him.
You can tell by the tint of the sunlight through the windows that itâs morning. Not too early but early enough. Heâs been up a while. Heâs fully dressed.
You look down at yourself. The cotton pajamas have little hearts all over them. You put on a turtleneck under the tank top to hide your arms.
âDownstairs,â he directs you.
You obey. He takes you to the bathroom tucked behind the curled staircase. He sits you on the closed toilet and hands you Patty. You rub your cheek against her gratefully.
He opens the cabinet and pulls out the tube of salve. He nears and you show your palm. He uses a cotton swab to apply it. It soothes.
âEvery four hours,â he reads the tube as he caps it. âRemember that.â
Sure. You donât even know what time it is. He beckons you up to your feet.
âAlright. Gonna be real honest with you. I got fucking work to do. Your buddy Rocco isnât getting off light. I mean, have you seen the size of his gut? That fuckerâs going down so I need to⌠think. Youâre gonna eat then youâre gonna be a big girl and take care of yourself.â He leads you back into the hall. âNothing beyond these walls. You stay inside. Thereâs lots to do here.â
You follow him to the kitchen. Thereâs a paper bag on the counter. He slides it toward you as you approach.
You put Patty on the island and climb up on the tall stool. You sense him watching. You reach into the bag and hiss, showing your palm. He clucks and takes the container out for you. He pops the lids.
It smells delicious and looks so sweet with all the fruit.
âWaffles,â he announces. âI said no cream. Thought it might make you sick.â
Your brows lift as you eye the panoply of colours; green kiwi, red strawberry, pale banana. You lick your lips. He sets cutlery next to the tray.
âAlright then. Donât look for me. I need to fucking focus.â He taps the counter tap and turns away. âTry not to break anything either.â
He struts off and you use only the fork to cut into the waffles. You push the side through the fluffy layers then spear some fruit atop a morsel. You shove it all in your mouth. Oh. Delicious. So sweet.
You look at Patty as she watches. You wonder what platypus eat.
-
The house is eerily empty as it grows silent. You donât know what to do, just not to bug Lloyd. You know better than to bother someone when they tell you not to.
You go back to your room with Patty and watch the lawns through the window. You want to go back out so bad but it can wait until youâre allowed. You know better. Right in the back of the mind, you know men all have a limit.
You hug Patty and have a silent conversation with her. She doesnât know why Lloyd kept you. She doesnât think you should want to die, after all, you got out of the darkness and you met her. Sure, these are nice things but theyâre not your things.
You jolt as an abrupt chime cuts through the air. You squeeze Patty and look toward the door. You wait. Thereâs pounding.
You look at the platypus. She doesnât know who it is. You stay, you think and put her down gently.
You cross the room and peer out into the hall. Itâs quiet. The chime comes again and more knocking. Then a voice muffled by distance and architecture.
You creep out, cradling your sore hand, and stop at the top of the stairs. Where is Lloyd? The person at the door is calling for them.
You descend the steps. Itâs a womenâs voice. She keeps hammering the doors.
âHansen, come on, baby. Iâve been texting.â She calls through. âYou remember how much fun we had.â
You go to the window next to the door. You pull the sheer curtain back to peek out. Sheâs tall and brunette and pretty. Her dress is a pretty shade of red.
âI just wanna talk⌠catch up,â she trills.
You wait and listen. Would he be mad if you ignored her? He said heâs busy and not to be disturbed.
âAlright, baby.â The woman mutters.Â
Thereâs a steady beep behind the handle and something clicks. The woman twists the handle and pushes inside. You turn as she lets the door close.
âLloyâ oh my!â She startles as she sees you. Staring. âOh? Who are you?â
You watch her. She narrows her eyes and her smile turns to a scowl.
âOh, I seeâŚâ her gaze flicks up and down. âEw. Really. ThisâŚâ she points at you with a long fingernail. âWhatâs the matter with you, bimbo? See what a real woman looks like?â
She scoffs and puts her hand on her hips and searches the foyer. She struts forward. âWhere is he? He has some explaining to doââ
You follow her and she spins back. You stop short of her, barely.
âWould you fucking say something? And back off. I can feel your weasely little breath.â
You blink. You look around, trying to figure out what to do. Where is Lloyd?
âHullo?â She snaps her fingers in your face. âWhere is Lloyd?â You stare. âYou donât speak English or something?â
You donât react. Youâre frozen. Lloyd is going to be so mad sheâs in here. What if he thinks you let her in?
âLike can you stop staring?â She spins and heads for the stares. You hesitate then follow. Should you stop her? âHey!â She turns to you again and shoves you. âI told you to back up.â
You stumble and sprawl across the floor. You donât try to get up. You lay there, ready for more.
âThe fuck is this!?â Footsteps hammer down the staircase. âI thought I smelled cunt.â Lloyd sneers as he barrels down.
âLloyd⌠hey, baby,â the woman begins.
âTess? The fuck?â He elbows her away as you look up at him. She grabs at his arm. âYou fuckingââ His eyes flash and he turns to face her. He grabs her wrists before she can cling on. âYou fucking put your hands on her!â
âShe was all over me, honeyââ
âShut the fuck up? How did you even get in here?â
She giggles and winks at him. âYou stopped textingââ
âI got more important things to do.â
âWhat? Like that beady eyed slut?â She snarls. âLloydââ
âShut the fuck up!â He lets go of her arms and grabs her by the throat. âA. Donât call her that.â He hauls her toward the door as she gaps. âB. Donât fucking come into my house without my say so.â He angles her and opens the door. âC. It was one night and it wasnât good.â
He hurls her out the door and she screeches. He slams it behind her and locks it. He huffs and hits the wood.
âCrazy bitch, musta scoped the keycode,â he shakes his head as he turns around. âHey,â he flinches and rushes forward. âHey, you okay?â He bends over you then lowers himself to a knee. You lay staring at the ceiling. âEarth to sunshine,â he brushes your cheek with his knuckles. âCome on, you hurt?â
Your eyes slowly meet his. You shakily lift your hand. You put your thumb up. He tilts his head.
âGet off the floor,â he drawls as pulls you up with him. He stands you up and pats your shoulder. âLetâs just forget about that bitch.â
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