Hello everyone, I've been lurking for a good year now and decided to try out writing as a new hobby.
My posts can and will contain sensitive and 18+ topics, so regard the CW! 👁
AO3
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FEBUWHUMP 2023 Masterlist
FEBUWHUMP 2024 Masterlist
Stack The Deck [Masterlist] *hiatus*
yandere Whumper | held for ransom | Lima syndrome
Dazed and horrified, Elliot finds himself in the clutch of a stranger who claims to know him. Now held for ransom, though no money seems to be enough, Elliot has to discover the missing link between them and befriend his kidnapper to save his own skin.
But what does he want? And how far is he willing to go for it?
Tales of Arcadia [Masterlist] *hiatus*
parental Whumper | recapture | hypnosis | cult setting
A collection of arcs surrounding a very unlucky father and his efforts to hold his family together; by any means necessary...
Shepard didn't get an answer this evening. Instead, he kept guard of his son like a hawk when he wasn't currently busy sneaking through the few square feet of the motor home or sorting old towels into the closets.
Brooding and quiet in his discontent, Lukas only growled at every attempt for reconciliation. Though the pounding ache in his head slowly disappeared, the overall weakness in his body had no such luck.
Typical.
Two years lost… All this time was supposed to boil down to nothing more than a practice run for college? Fair enough, the handful of classes a month he did sit in, always on edge to be caught and kicked out, had been child's play.
Elementary mineralogy, multivariate calculus, and hydrology he could do in his sleep, so he was good for the first few semesters anyway. Theoretically, at least. Never granted the opportunity to prove his knowledge on an excursion had left him hungry for the real campus life.
And Lukas wanted it more than anything. More than his family, clearly, a decision Ben had surely never forgiven him for. Still, imagining his father breathing down his neck during every lecture ruined any hope of returning in time for the Cañon City field trip.
In and out of sleep, he tossed around on the creaking planks of two-by-fours, watchful eyes keeping track of every twitch. Spiteful as he was, Lukas stayed with his back turned towards his father, only willing to stare holes into the wall.
Couldn't he look somewhere else? Was the back of his head that interesting? Hadn't Shepard had enough of this while he was unconscious?
Every one of his charges was countered with a reassuring blink from across the room, despite across feeling like a generous term for the less than three feet of distance between them.
No real apology was uttered this day. There was nothing else that Lukas could expect besides 'Sorry that I gave you a scare' or 'Sorry that your schedule is all mixed up now' anyway. What a joke.
All the overthinking made no difference in the end. So Shepard kept watch, nagging him worse than the constant sting under his shoulder blade, until his boy lost the fight with sleep once more, lulled away by the soothing click-clack of knitting needles.
--------
The peaceful morning came like a slap to the face.
Lukas wriggled out of the bedsheets and stood up angrily, barely keeping his wobbly legs straight. A wave of dizziness swept him right back down onto the mattress. The proud dissenter had whined himself limp.
Fucking hell.
His stiff hand rubbed the morning sleep from his eyes, jaw still clenched from the night's unease. The new dawn of his old life smelled of fresh toast and orange juice - this nightmare really didn't want to end.
From behind the curtain, Lukas could hear his father bustle around the kitchen nook, only the quiet crackle of the radio keeping him company for now. Good, because he certainly would not join in on Shepard's delusions of a happy family, not if he valued the last bit of backbone he had left.
Once more, Lukas gathered all his strength, pushing himself up to his feet: unsteady as they were, only the camper's wall gave him a bit of support. Inch by inch, Lukas crept forward, leaning against the thin metal like a mountain goat on its way to the peak.
"Good morning! How'd you sleep?" Shepard wondered from the other room, not even glancing up from sorting cutlery neatly into its designated drawer.
Tsk, what do you think? That man only cared if he fell for the lamest attempt at bribery of all time.
"Where are you headed?"
Stumbling into the claustrophobic corridor connecting the bedroom to the main living area of the RV, Lukas caught himself again, leaning against a sliding door.
"Bathroom," he growled from between clenched teeth.
To his dismay, his father seemed to see his answer as an invitation to chat. Slipping around the corner into the corridor himself, Shepard paced languidly towards his son, hands wringing a kitchen towel as if to force all of his problems out of it. He, too, took hold of the door, forcing it to stay open.
"Hey," he said softly.
His son's fingers curled tightly around the handle: "What?"
"I know this feels like a setback for you." For the first time in days, Lukas could finally inspect his own disheveled face reflected in Shepard's tired eyes. "But I promise, once we finally get settled-"
"Can I take a shit in peace?"
Shepard blinked at his son, a little perplexed.
"CAN I?"
The door slammed shut between them before he could find a clever response. Throwing his hands up, unseen in the empty hallway, the disgraced father admitted his defeat. There was no way he could get this attitude out of his boy in one single day.
"I don't appreciate the Atlanta vernacular you picked up, Luke," he scolded weakly against the wall, "It doesn't suit you."
Unceremoniously, the bathroom lock clicked into place, proving more than clearly what Luke thought of that proposition.
"Just... Call if you need anything, alright?"
He could beg and plead until he went nuttier than he already was; Lukas had no interest in catering to his delusions.
Though living in the future that was offered to him would have been nice.
Enough time to learn and study, without breaking his back between the rancid fat of the deep fryer and the rats in the back alley of Gino's third-rate food joint. What Dad was offering meant enjoying the luxury of not having to worry about his own survival. Or Ben's, for that matter. Things could be normal for once. Even though the Cohen household had never been quite normal to begin with.
It would be nice...
In another life, maybe. In this one, Lukas needed to get out of here. The faster, the better.
Behind the door, Lukas could hear muffled noise. Shepard was talking to someone on the phone, evidently, probably Birdie. Did the farmers market raise the booth fee again? Has Leigh had another meltdown? Did these grown men and women not know how to live without their oh-so-important patriarch, holding their hand every step of the way?!
Still, whatever had stolen his attention was a very welcome distraction. Lukas' gaze flicked around the bathroom, this closet-sized cube was less than what he was used to by now, but neatly in order. Three fresh towels hung on the walls. Did he really expect Ben to-
God damn it! If it really came so far and his brother lost even the last of his brain cells, their reunion would come more quickly than he was able to handle. The thought alone made Lukas too nauseous for breakfast.
Nervously pacing on the spot, he knew he had no other chance. It was now or never: Get out before the dream of a normal life wormed itself back into him and paved the way to pay the price. If not for himself, at least for Ben.
Well, then, fuck college. Fuck Dad and his guilt trips. Fuck Claire, for good measure. That woman had never been any good for anything other than haunting their family.
Only the bathroom window, barely more than a thin slit in the wall, invited the outside in. Lukas squinted into the light of the midday sun, and nothing but trees greeted him back; not even a lonely highway meandered along the horizon.
They had to be close to the settlement, he could nearly taste it. The air, the flora this time of year... It had to be. There was no way in hell Birdie and Otis would help him, unfortunately. These bridges were burned to the ground a long time ago.
Lukas chewed on his lip, eyes wandering back and forth between the door and outside world. This was what he wanted, right? This was the only option he had left, the only one he could choose freely.
Right?
The talking behind the door had stopped. Before any more doubts paralyzed him longer, Lukas shoved the window wide open.
The square to freedom was only as big as a picture frame, barely enough space to squeeze through. Ten by twenty inches, to be exact, Lukas was forced to measure it more than once when it needed to be replaced a few years ago. William had gotten in one of his moods he always suffered during detox and punched the frame clean out of its casing.
Luke silently thanked him for it.
One foot on the sink, the other pushing him up from the tiled floor, Lukas shoved himself through the opening. A tight fit was an understatement: thin metal scraped over each of his ribs, bruising every bit of skin in its way. His shirt caught in the hinges, then ripped free again. Inch by inch, Lukas snaked forward, stifling any moans of pain threatening to escape.
Just a bit more.
Legs dangling in the air now, Lukas pushed and pushed, led by the fresh air in his nose, and with it the sweet spring breeze coaxing him further to freedom. Under his weight the camper shook and groaned, drowning out the impatient clanking in the kitchen. As his tailbone grazed the upper frame roughly, Lukas bit his tongue until he tasted blood.
Yet, he kept moving.
"Because you're curvy as a board," he heard Avery drawl at the back of his mind.
"Whats that supposed to mean?" Their roommate had allowed Ben to pick out some old clothing for himself, the kind Lukas couldn't help but comment harshly on.
"Just saying." Avery had sighed dramatically, "No ass, no opinion."
Lukas grinned crookedly. Finally, Claire and her genes were useful for once.
One last push, and he plummeted down on the wet grass with a dull whack. Rolling over on his side, panting and waiting, thin pine needles pricked into his skin where the frame had already rubbed it sore.
He did it. Barefoot and still nearly too weak to stand, but he did it.
And now? Nothing but conifers divided by thin mud paths surrounded the camper. It was a wonder that thing could even park here.
Lukas looked around nervously and took a shaky breath in.
Think!
It was Wednesday, which meant George got his delivery of soft drinks and cigarettes. If he made it in time to reach his rest stop and the truck driver wasn't maybe such an asshole like every other bumpkin around here, then potentially he had enough time to-
A quiet knock from inside the camper ripped him from his thoughts.
"Lukas?"
Without thinking twice, he started sprinting.
--------
There was nothing in particular about Ohio that Lukas despised more compared to other states they had visited during the family's time touring the US. The weather was fine, as were the local parks and monuments. The cuisine, well, there was not much he could get out of it from west to east, just as he couldn't get along with the locals, no matter how much he tried.
It was fine, though, really. The ambiance had never been the problem.
Above, the northern cardinal sang his lonely song for the ninth time in fifteen minutes between soft moss and the mountain springs. A mellow invitation to stay. If he hadn't been in a hurry, Lukas might have accepted it.
Below, he struggled through the thicket, thorns latching into his thighs, pulling away any hope of good luck with them. Fuck this. Each pebble along the path dug sharply into the soles of his feet. Thanks a lot, Dad.
The road to freedom ached and ached and ached. There had to be someone in this forsaken forest ready to help him. A hiker or woodsman who... Well, there was no need to call the police.
That's what Avery always wanted to do, but it never felt right to Lukas. A ride back to Atlanta was what he needed, end of story. The kind of trade that would certainly fall flat without money to offer, but he ought to worry about that when he got there.
Nervously, Lukas glanced back. He was alone, albeit for now.
I should have waited.
Suddenly, the thicket cleared. A small glade with a makeshift fire pit greeted him, but Lukas had no time for a break. The logs surrounding the pit hinted at the night before: empty beer cans and cardboard boxes scattered around a shopping trolley, obviously abused as a makeshift grill, remained as the last evidence of the village kids' rather recent hillbilly barbeque.
The road couldn't be much further away. Petrified by the burden of choice, Lukas quickly crossed the clearing, hoping to catch any clues of his location, a street sign or driveway or-
A flash of ice-cold pain shot up his right leg, squeezing a shocked yelp out of him. Scrambling, Lukas managed to catch himself on a log before his knee gave way.
"Fuck!" he whimpered through angry tears, "What the-"
He had hoped for a thorn or wasp. In the sole of his foot, however, tightly held in his hands, stuck a dark green piece of glass. Cold sweat ran down Lukas' neck.
"I don't have time for this." His voice cracked pitifully as he inspected the horrid thing sticking out of his flesh. The glass was tacky and clouded by whatever it came from.
Come on! He made it this far, too far to just give up without a fight.
Tears ran down his cheeks as Lukas got hold of the shard with two fingers, took a deep breath, and ripped it out in one swift motion. Another flash of pain jolted his body from heel to scalp, yet as sharply as it had come, it went away.
Panting heavily, Lukas held onto himself while blood oozed from between his fingers. It was not the stinging that made him shake uncontrollably.
No. No, please. He felt himself go lightheaded as dark spots danced across his vision. The deep red smeared across his hands dripped down onto the forest floor with every pounding heartbeat, trapping his attention like a ghost light.
No matter how hard he tried to look away, to stand back up and get going, all he could see was blood. Spreading. Consuming. Swirling together into a too-familiar picture.
There she was again, splayed out at his feet. Kendra, motionless on the kitchen floor. The halo of blood pooling around her head, lightless eyes searching for his, pleading for mercy. The only memory he could picture her in anymore.
"Lukas!"
It was his fault. If he had only shut his mouth like she told him to, none of this would have happened.
"It's not your fault."
But it was. Even as the world turned small and dark, this truth refused to fade away with him.
--------
"I can't leave him alone for even a second."
Shepard dutifully followed the steadily blinking dot on his display through the woods. His boy was roaming in circles through the valley for quite a while now. As the past had taught him, he should have seen this coming; and he did. The tracker was meant as a temporary measure, nothing more, to prevent such unnecessary and dangerous ideas.
The pale dot grew more vibrant with every step east, and the once again abandoned father nervously followed its lead. Was he missing something? Maybe he should've taken the risk to get both of the boys home at once, given that Sam was capable of that level of trustworthiness.
Should he have locked the windows? Of course not, that would be psychotic. Unbelievable how easily his Luke took the trust he was given by the neck and twisted it to his liking. He was raised better than this.
Gravel and branches cracked under Shepard's boots as he picked up the pace. Thoughtlessly ignoring the beauty of nature, he finally caught up to the signal. There he was, his boy, sitting slumped over a log.
"Luke, what are we doing here?" he gently called out. All this trouble before breakfast couldn't be healthy for the both of them.
No answer. He was probably in a huff, understandably so. Warily, Shepard stepped closer, one hand in his back pocket.
"Hey, I understand how you feel. But running away will not help-"
His boy didn't even look at him. Sitting so motionless, all wan and shaky, his breath came out in rough bursts.
"Lukas?" Shepard finally approached his son, shoes sinking into the blood-soaked mud. Luke still held on desperately to his leg, drop by drop trickling through his fingers and ruining his already tattered pants.
Panic gripped Shepard's heart like a vice, but he cautioned himself to stay calm. If Lukas couldn't keep a clear mind, he had to do it for the both of them. Quickly stashing his phone into his jacket, he knelt down to inspect the damage.
"What happened, Sprout? Talk to me."
Again, no reaction.
"Hey," Shepard whispered, gingerly rubbing along Luke's back, "come on."
Amber eyes stared blankly at the ground, the touch slowly bringing some life back into them.
"Glass," Lukas finally murmured, weak but audible. He could still see her, like through a veil made of smoke, gradually fading back into his subconscious.
"How bad is it? Show me."
Lukas kept his gaze fixed on the ground, wordlessly opening his hand. Resting inside it, Shepard could see the jagged, broken neck of a beer bottle. He nodded, patiently holding his son until he could ground himself. For someone who usually couldn't even look at a splinter without passing out, Lukas was doing marvelously well, so much better than his father recalled.
"H-how did you find me?" Luke asked, trembling over every syllable.
"I had a feeling." Some tricks were better left unexplained.
Shepard grasped the glass with pointed fingers, discarding it next to the log. Now was not the time for a sermon about littering. At last, Luke found enough strength to look his father in the eyes, lips pressing into a thin scowl: "This is your fault."
Shepard raised his eyebrows. "I don't remember proposing to hike in your pajamas, Luke. That was your bright idea."
The bleeding ebbed with every passing second, it was just Lukas' pride that wouldn't quit hurting. He had failed again. Nothing new at this point, but this time he couldn't just walk away from failure.
"We have to bandage you up as soon as possible."
Lukas' scowl deepened. If he could wish for one thing, it would be disappearing into thin air forever. Escape the sugar-coated patronization.
Shepard silently opened his arms, a peace offering that couldn't be more mortifying.
"No."
"I won't let you sit here and get rusty, Luke." His father's voice was calm but firm. "You can mump at home if you like. At least there you won't get an infection."
"Or what? You're going to hit me again?"
"Of course not, and you know as much."
Fists clenched, Lukas hesitated for a moment, out of pure self-preservation. They both knew he felt too exhausted for another fight.
One last glare, and he wrapped his arms around his father's neck - a necessary hug to get him right back to where he just escaped from. Shepard felt much the same and for once managed to keep his mouth shut. He picked his boy up with ease, a familiar weight by now, and with Lukas safely back in his arms, they made their way back home quietly.
Not one word was uttered until the camper door shut behind them, though the throbbing in Lukas' foot kept him painfully aware of his situation. A steady companion of his failure.
"Can you stand for a second?"
Shepard gently set Lukas down next to the entrance, his attention fully on him. First, they had to sanitize the cut. Lukas let himself flop onto the armchair opposite the kitchen nook.
The somber mood between him and his dad didn't help his case at all, no more than the new norm he feared. The next 22 years all over again. Perfect, a dream come true.
Shepard finally joined him, the first aid kit clamped under his arm, and sat down to inspect the damage. Blood and dirt were caked on the cut in a thick layer, he noticed now in the light of the desk lamp.
"Can I take a look?"
Hesitant, Lukas put his leg on the well-loved ottoman next to the armchair. Both were made from the same brown leather that smelled like beeswax and old books, the smell of home he still thought about in the restless Atlanta nights.
Fast yet precise, Shepard put on his glasses and got to business. They were from the late nineties, even Lukas could tell that much, and always made him look a bit goofy. Old, too. Gosh, he looked so much older than Lukas noticed before, now that the adrenaline slowly subsided: gray, frizzy strands of hair framed the deep worry lines carved into his face. He looked... oddly normal. Though currently he was anything but.
A light pressure brushed again the sole of his foot, and Lukas hissed, more in surprise than genuine pain. His father contemplated his leg like the Gordian knot, staying far too quiet for his liking.
"How- how bad is it?" he asked.
Shepard met his eyes, brows furrowed in a serious expression. The cut beneath the loose dirt and pine needles was barely worse than a scratch.
Glumly, he sighed and shook his head. Lukas' face went dangerously pale.
"I'll never walk again," he breathed aghast, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Of course he screwed this up too, like everything else he tried to achieve.
"Relax. I genuinely don't know where your tendency to catastrophize comes from," Shepard replied quickly while his boy buried his head in the backrest. He overshot the green here a bit. "But I know that you're going to be fine. Give it a week or two, and you won't even think about it anymore."
That was all he needed. Luke had just bought his old man plenty of time. A nice change of attitude for once.
"Just leave it. Please." Distraught, Lukas chewed the hem of his shirt, trying his best not to start crying again. His leg rested limp in his father's lap, gently held but not handled without his will.
"If I don't clean it, we have to go to the hospital-"
"NO!"
"Then let me do it, alright?"
Shepard finally got the nod he was waiting for. Even more than blood, Lukas feared any building that had even the possibility of containing something capable of pricking him. Getting his shots had always been a catastrophe, a fact Shepard remembered very well.
The first round of antiseptic loosened the coarsest grime, thick streams of dirty liquid ran down his foot and onto the towel cradling it. Lukas bit his tongue, waiting for the burning that always came with it, like when he cut himself on dirty knives at Gino's. Seconds passed, yet it never came. All he could feel was a cool mist on his skin. After the fifth round, his father finally seemed satisfied.
Thin strips of plaster came next, strong enough to glue the jagged edge of the wound shut, followed by so many layers of gauze that his foot was nothing more than a comedically large blob at the end of it.
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Shepard asked, mustering his son over the rims of his glasses, "Does it hurt anywhere else?"
Blankly, Lukas pointed to his shoulder. That nagging sting plaguing him since yesterday still hadn't stopped. While he was at it, why not get a general checkup? He had no more pride to lose.
"Lean forward."
Shepard, in all his phony glory, thoroughly inspected the red swelling below his son's shoulder blade. A tiny prick for where the rice grain-sized receiver stuck under his skin. It felt difficult criticizing himself for the invasion of bodily autonomy now that the tracker had worked so well.
"Something might have bitten you..."
He trailed off, his attention glued to his boy's lower back. Red streaks stretching up and down told the story of his great escape, little scabs had already formed where the skin had split from the fragile bone below it. It would bruise, surely.
A loud sigh told Lukas everything. Instead of a lecture, his father simply fished out a jar with a handwritten label out of the first aid kit.
"Ugh," Lukas huffed as the lid popped open, "not this one."
"Why not?" Shepard wondered, already spreading the balm over the inflamed spots, leaving a gentle warmth with it.
"It stinks."
His father chuckled. "Well, yes. Comfrey will do that."
It also made his shirt stick to his back, a feeling that unpleasantly bothered him. A pillow shoved behind his neck and a quick kiss on the top of his head sealed the homemade urgent care.
What was done was done.
"There we go," Shepard nodded, satisfied, and sat back down to face his son.
Lukas couldn't meet his eyes. Hurt and surrendered, he tried swallowing the lump growing in his throat.
"Luke," Shepard whispered, so softly it burned, "Look at me, and tell me that you never want to see me again. If that's what you wish for, I will make it happen for you."
His boy didn't react, just picked at the old leather, trying to make himself as small as possible. This isn't fair. If he were talking to some stranger holding him hostage in a basement, he wouldn't even think twice about his answer. But the man sitting in front of him was no monster lurking under the bed. He was just Dad.
"Nothing you can say will make me love you any less."
So he said nothing. Instead, the little voice got noisy. It would be so much easier.
He had no choice, in the end. Lukas had taken his own option to fight away, a stupid lapse of judgment that cost him everything. The momentary mirage of independence burst into the smell of beeswax and old books.
"Do you really have to hear me say it?!" Lukas finally barked, "You win. Congratulations."
His dad tilted his head to the side. He didn't look like he was celebrating, not even a bit triumphant, but simply as beaten as Lukas felt. Years of sorrow could've been prevented.
"Why couldn't you figure this out sooner?" Lukas accused him, "Instead, you force us to stay with these people in bumfuck nowhere."
"I think everyone needs a project to-"
"Because you like it, right? You like being their godsend, all-knowing big boss."
"I did," Shepard admitted soberly, "I...It feels nice being needed, especially when my boy does so less and less every day. But I will always choose you. I just took too long to go through with it, and... then I had already lost you. And Ben, too."
For the first time since coming home, Lukas believed him. The wilderness got lonely fast. He answered with a sympathetic shrug, much more couldn't be expected. His father's face stayed scrunched up, forming into a weird grimace between pain and sadness.
"Ben is doing fine, by the way." Lukas mentioned, offhandedly. Somber quiet always made him feel on edge. "Just let him do his thing."
Shepard scoffed as his eyes wandered idly to the kitchen clock: "Loneliness doesn't do him any favors. None of us. And I doubt you did, quite frankly."
"Did what?"
"Let him roam around Atlanta all day."
That smug look, oh, how Lukas hated it. Of course he didn't leave his brother unsupervised, not even for a second. There was no need to rub it in, though, thank you very much.
Shepard hummed, insistent.
"It's not that easy!"
"I know." Since Reuben came crashing into their life, few things had been that way.
"He doesn't even have papers."
"Well, neither did you."
Lukas shot him a dark look: "I can manage."
Wordlessly, Shepard checked the dressing again.
"It's not supposed to be easy! I can do this alone." At least he used to. Atlanta was better to handle when Ben was not there, Lukas admitted quietly and hated himself for this truth. He had demanded him as a brother. It had been his fault, so Ben became his responsibility. "I can be independent."
"I believe you." This time, there was no irony in Shepard's words. "But giving up everything to invest in a zero-sum game where you wash dishes for the rest of your life and save for college classes you will never afford? That's nonsense, Luke, and you know it."
Dad was right. In the end, he always was.
It took every spark of strength Lukas had left to pull himself up in the armchair, trying his best to keep his expression nonchalant. There was no way in hell he would allow Shepard his big family reunion, only a bite-sized success once in a while.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked curiously, picking some loose dirt off his son's sleeve. The good Merino shirt was ripped all over, what a shame.
"Hm," Lukas growled in response. The message was clear, the golden window for persuasive work was rapidly closing.
"Alright, then." With a groan, Shepard rose from his slumped position, turning towards the stove: "It's a bit early for dinner, but given that we skipped breakfast, I think a little snack wouldn't hurt anybody."
Lukas eyed his every move. Just because they had a semi-peaceful chit-chat didn't mean everything was forgiven. Oh, that man was still properly fucked in the head.
"Strawberry or blueberry?"
"Blueberry, obviously."
His father fished for some thawing fruit in the fridge, throwing it together in a tall cup with some pastes and seeds he spontaneously pulled out from various cabinets. Avery would have killed for that organic, homemade, improvisational smoothie.
"Ears," his father warned him before pressing down on the puree button. An old habit. If Lukas hadn't spent the last two years in a cramped industrial kitchen, it may have been a nice gesture instead of belittling.
"Mine always turn out watery," he admitted while chewing on the hem of his shirt.
"Well," his father handed him the foaming purple liquid in a glass jug, "I can imagine you are frugal with the peanut butter."
"I don't like peanut butter." And you know that.
"You do when I put it in your smoothie, so..."
Lukas' failure tasted of tart berries and sunflower seeds. Not too thick, not too sour - just right. A bit chalky, but good.
Like nothing had happened in the last hour, Shepard began cleaning up the cabinets once again, neatly stacking plates next to cups next to bowls. For once, the silence between father and son was a calm one, like it used to be during their many years on the road. Before Ben, before Kendra or Birdie or this whole settlement travesty.
The price both paid for easy quality time was a great one, and Lukas was still unsure if it was worth it.
"Did you pick a campus yet?" Shepard asked after a while, not ignorant to how fast Lukas was melting into the backrest.
"No, but I really don't care." It was true. Ultimately, they all were just means to an end. Lukas couldn't care less about substance-free dorms, affinity groups, or communal kitchens. College wasn't for making friends.
He blinked slowly and clicked his tongue: "I figure if I said Georgia Tech, that wouldn't be an option, right?"
"Atlanta is off the table." Though it would interest Shepard what kind of folk decided to help his sprout grow in such a hostile environment. This Avery person did sound intriguing, maybe too much so.
Lukas rolled his eyes, not interested in another argument. Between the headaches and confusion, he missed the point when the chokehold had started feeling like a hug.
For a second, he snapped out of the artificial comfort when he spotted his father, the one true skeptic of modern technology, checking his phone. No way! After all this time, he finally got rid of the old brick he used for business calls.
"Since when do you have a phone? Oh, but I can't have one!"
Shepard sighed. It was his turn to count his losses for once.
"I'll get you one," he promised without looking up.
"Really?" Lukas gasped, genuinely shocked. The old cracked thing Martin had given him for emergencies had served him well until today, if he hadn't left it at home out of fear of being robbed at the club. Kind of ironic, he admitted.
"Yes, really. You can't do anything without these things nowadays." Shepard placed the phone face down on the countertop. "Just for school, of course."
"Whatever," his son murmured and took one last slurp of his smoothie, gnawing on the glass straw. Heavy eyes closed on their own, and he decided it wouldn't hurt to give them a break. Only for a bit, until he got his energy back.
"Is everything okay?"
Lukas nodded, dazed but at ease. "'m just beat."
"Probably because you bled a lot. You should get some rest."
"Yeah, probably."
Shifting carefully, Lukas arranged his foot on the ottoman. It didn't hurt at all, oddly enough. Nothing hurt anymore.
Kendra was still buried six feet under, his future still in the palms of a man who loved him too much for his own good, and yet for the first time since coming home, Luke felt no anxiety about it.
--------
Shepard snapped, to no response. Again and again, nothing. Finally, he smacked his hands together in a last desperate attempt. Lukas stirred for a second, his face scrunching up at the noise, before curling back into his seat.
Good. Since he wouldn't wake for quite some time, Shepard had one less worry to manage. He had no fun medicating his boy into delirium, though in all fairness, he had been explicitly warned.
Hopefully this would be the last time Luke forced him to take such drastic measures. Running around the woods all by himself... Shepard couldn't bear the thought of what could have happened to him out there.
The display of his phone lit up again, adding one more missed call to the seemingly endless list. Shepard was late, no question, but there was enough time to get everything in order.
As far as he knew, Reuben would wait patiently for their scheduled meetup.
CW: betrayal, mentions of murder, emotional blackmail
Previous | [Masterlist] |
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Ben normally never minded lying awake with Avery after a long day. Since Saturday, though, nothing was normal anymore: his brother had disappeared without a trace. Again.
And Ben, well-behaved as he was, stayed behind. Again.
Where Lukas had gone was handled more as an open secret than an enigma, Avery only admitting to the obvious truth with grunts and his head in his hands. Why he went home, especially because of his daily reminder of the "horrible, terrible" place they left, remained unknown.
Ben always suspected he missed Shepard more than he could even sense, no matter his protests. He was their dad, after all, with all his funky decisions and faults.
Beside him, Avery tossed and turned over pensively, like a gas station hot dog on its grill. Blaming problems outside his control on himself usually was Ben's area of expertise. Tonight, Avery had the honor.
The desperate man even turned towards the police, but nobody cared to search for a person who did not even exist on their population register. There were more urgent matters to attend to than a moody runaway.
Avery had gritted his teeth, spitting insults towards the officer under his breath. Ben stayed quiet and alert.
“Are you listening?" he asked and made Ben jolt from his thoughts. "We are going to search again tomorrow, and Martin will call some people. He knows this chick… She's not a real PI, but, y'know, she's the closest thing we have to a chance."
Such trouble for nothing. Ben knew exactly where to find his brother.
"Yeah," he whispered instead, not meeting Avery's eyes, "sounds good."
Surprisingly, the not-so-impressionable Martin wasn't bothered by his partner's involvement this time. But in all of Ben's honesty, he knew that man as easy to please, though the underlying tension between the two had only grown in the most uncomfortable way.
A disharmony that would've usually left Ben satisfied only tasted sour now.
The mere idea of Luke going back home broke something inside Avery - a defeat he could never accept.
And Martin, in all his perversion, was there to offset every furious breakdown. Of course he did, Mr. Perfect had it all. How much could their bond endure, though?
Another life ruined; that's all Ben was good for.
Caught deep in memories, he examined the world behind the glass. Even the night's sky above Atlanta couldn't compare to home: stars hid behind a muddy wasteland, only once in a while letting a single speck shine into the room.
Starshine, Dad always called him. Ben smiled.
While admiring the blanket of clouds, the shape beside him hadn't moved for quite a while, only his chest rising and falling slowly.
Then, nearly soundlessly, Ben slipped onto his feet, allowing himself one last glance at everything to be abandoned.
I love you so much, Avery. I hope you can forgive me someday.
Like being pulled by strings, Ben crept through the pitch-black hallway to the kitchen. Head in a daze as if moving through an early morning dream, he fished the already waiting backpack filled with everything necessary out from under the kitchen table.
Hidden in advance, Avery hadn't noticed it for the entire evening.
Without risking another look back, Ben twisted the doorknob with shaky fingers.
It was time.
--------
The tear tracks down Lukas' face didn't even get the chance to dry when, not even ten minutes later, Shepard stood in the doorway again, bowl in hand and an apologetic smile on the lips.
Approaching his son slowly, like soothing a scared foal, he hoped for an improvement in his mood. Luke didn't make it easy for them, but now that they had all the time in the world, Shepard was free in his approaches. No need for sugarcoated promises.
"Can I see your face?" he asked gently, tugging at his son until he rolled around. His angry pout said it all.
"I don't want your fucking rice," Lukas sulked, wiping across his cheeks with the corner of his blanket.
What tempted him to all that swearing, Shepard wondered, another sigh of defeat leaving his lips. Time to switch gears:
"First of all, my fucking rice is fucking good, alright? And second of all, you need a genuine meal."
After consuming broth and crushed vitamin supplements for days, he didn't even dare to imagine how badly his boy ached for a hearty dinner. Shepard, despite his often overdrawn worries, proved correct, except that he was just as proud as his father. Too proud to accept the olive branch.
Lukas scoffed. "I'm not eating anything you make!"
Who knew what kind of tricks he would pull for a reconciliation - or worse, what he put in there beyond salt and pepper? Something to make him fall into dreamless sleep, once again providing the sweet and easy son he so badly wanted.
His father, on the other hand, seemed quite hurt by this comment. The old man had always been proud of his cooking, his snacks and dishes being one of the few consistent passions they were able to enjoy together.
Calming him down with Mozart also fell flat this time, but to avoid any more scuffles, the stumped father ought to give some slack in this ongoing tug-of-war.
Instead of being forced onto anyone, the bowl was put down next on the nightstand. The act, warily judged behind his son's squinting, did not go unnoticed.
Lukas knew the camper like the back of his hand, even after two years: every nook and cranny was kept strategically static in Shepard's desperate attempt to freeze time.
All remained unchanged, as did his way out of here.
If only the weak quiver in his legs would finally fade...
Clearing his throat, Shepard sat down on the bed's edge again, one hand roaming through his back pocket. He was wearing one of his unbelievably tacky sweaters, the ones you could barely tell apart from an old woman's doily - an abominable mixture of a fisherman's turtleneck and perfectly groomed lamb. Avery would throw up at the mere sight.
Behind the dull headache clouding his thoughts, Luke noticed his own woolly outfit. Why was he wearing- Did he get changed? How often?
Cheeks burning with newfound humiliation, Shepard was busy pulling the object of desire from his pocket, which Lukas recognized only grudgingly. The evidence of his complacency.
"I was speechless at first, but to be quite frank, you never stop surprising me." The fake ID twirled between his fingers, a deadpan photograph of Lukas staring at his current self in disgust. "When did you realize that maybe your birth certificate wasn't irrelevant to leave behind?"
Luke's hand snapped forward to grab it. Too slow; his father had already pulled it back to his chest.
"It's a proper one," he pondered, holding the thin plastic against the light. "Good enough for the average bouncer, certainly."
Lukas turned over anew, unable to stand this inspection any longer.
"Did you make it yourself?" his father marveled.
Silence. Claire would be absolutely thrilled at their son's talent for forgery, it was practically handed down to him. A perfect occasion for Shepard to retell the story of how they met and get a bit of nostalgia flowing.
Proud of a fake ID, seriously?
"You're sick. You need help," Lukas murmured feebly.
Not anymore; their little family had started to rebuild itself. Though the healing pains his boy couldn't understand yet reminded Shepard to take it easy.
"You said you had a job. Tell me about it."
Lukas practically vibrated, humming helped against the building dread. He had told on himself carelessly, and he would rather swallow his tongue before chatting about coerced info.
"I'm trying, Lukas, come on," Shepard begged, "Please?"
"Dishwasher," was all he pressed out. No names, no addresses. His worlds couldn't collide.
"Di- Since when do you do the dishes?" This kind of work neither fit his son nor was close to what he wished his life to be.
"Since I get paid for it!"
"So, let me get this straight," Lukas heard him chuckle from above, and pressed his teeth into his bottom lip in annoyance. "In the twenty years I tried to get you comfortable with dirty plates, I should've just given you some pocket money? Unbelievable!"
When wet food scraps clinging to his skin started to mean survival, Lukas learned to swallow the disgust and push through. No matter if it didn't get easier.
"Did Ben work too?" their father wondered, only earning a shrug in response. "I know he lives with you. So secretive..."
His son shook his head a little and kept quiet.
"Fine, alright," Shepard huffed helplessly, "Let us simply take a vow of silence until dusk."
Gino already replaced me. Luke was sure of it. If I can't pay rent this month, maybe Avery could advance some if I make it back in time.
Hand gently carding through raven hair, his boy looked like he was about to burst into tears again. How could Shepard help patch his wounds and mediate between the confused wants and needs?
"I love you, Luke. You have no idea how much I missed you."
A moment of silence passed, waiting time his son had to reciprocate these words. Shepard was kept waiting; possibly or especially because Lukas did love his father, despite everything. A cancer he could never cut out of himself. One thing was clear to both of them, without question:
"I don't trust you."
"Your brother does, and when the three of us are back together-"
"Leave him alone! You- Didn't you do enough already?"
Shepard's fingers tapped against the bedframe, calculating.
"It's an invitation, nothing more. He either accepts the offer or not, but he'll always be welcome at home. I wouldn't want to withhold that from him."
Even though Reuben took his sweet time to show up. Rumor had it that his father by choice was getting a bit impatient by now.
"And I don't get to decide?!"
"Not as long as I am responsible for you," Shepard explained.
"How long does that entail?"
The answer was as enlightening as it was dry: "Until I'm six feet under."
The tension inside him choked the last drop of reservation out of Lukas. A memory scratched itself free, one he preferred to let rest.
"Why not invite his mom too, huh?" he spat and instantly felt nausea claim his body, all shivers now unrelated to any food he may or may not have eaten.
Shepard stopped dead in his monologue, gawking at him, speechless for a second.
"That's what this whole commotion is about? Kendra?" he mumbled and shook his head in disbelief, "After eight years, that woman is still ruining our life."
Even the loving caress through Luke's hair couldn't hide his own disgust at the topic. Kendra, a silent threat always hovering close by, had been a sore spot for both of them for too long now. Staying mum never did them any good in the end.
Lukas just chewed on his lip, already trying to push the thought of her far away. Therapy was long overdue, if only his father's hands weren't tied in that regard.
Let Lady Justice strike, as Luke liked to fantasize about; where would that have led them?
Shepard couldn't bear visits in prison where he was unable to watch out for his son. Or let foster care eat him alive? None of these options were up for debate.
Kendra was no saint, and law was not justice. Some misdeeds forced Shepard to take fate into his own hands.
"What happened, happened," he started quietly, thumb kneading between his brows as if to scrub away the sins of the past. A weak excuse, even for his standards. "I can't turn back time, Lukas. I hoped you were old enough to understand by now."
But how could he? Luke was still a kid at heart, a stubborn one; he definitely got this trait from his mother's side.
A tiny question flickered awake, one that made him falter: "Did you tell Ben?"
The truth exposed could complicate making amends with his youngest.
Closing his eyes, Lukas only pursed his lips. His dear father didn't even pretend like he did anything wrong, as he always did. No, no, it was him who was just too stupid to join Shepard on his moral high horse.
"For someone who claims to be an adult now, you're acting very childish. So as long as you can't meet me on eye level, you're going to get treated like one."
Oh, the fine gentleman wanted equal footing? Lukas gladly followed:
"Shepard, listen-"
Rough hands shot up to his shoulders, quieting him instantly. The grip could have crushed granite.
"Never, ever, call me that!" his father demanded, nearly hysterical. Two widely set eyes locked on Lukas, tearing up more in horror than anger. "I'm your dad, nothing else. Dad! Is that understood?"
The boy nodded, rigid as a board. He wouldn't hurt his son again, right? Right?
"When did we grow apart like this, mhh?" Shepard sighed, his breath only coming out in short bursts. Loosening his grip, he began to stroke soothingly down Lukas' arms, shaking his head blankly. "I can't bear losing you, you're all that matters."
"I didn't tell," his son finally murmured defeated, "but if you bring him back here, I will! I swear."
"Then so be it. It's about time."
If his father refused to be vulnerable to blackmail any longer, then Lukas' chances for a smooth exit were zero to none.
It's my fault. Ben's wrath would find his brother first; a nearly decade-old fear bubbled under his heart. What did I do to deserve all of this?
"I just wanted to go to college!" he cried.
"You and what money, Sprout?"
Luke kicked the wall so hard the camper shook. The boy who used to be unfamiliar with the concept of paying for the food on his plate had met reality. And it hadn't been kind to him.
"I didn't know it costs so much... Everything is expensive."
Money they now had.
Quietly, barely noticeably, a phone started buzzing. Shepard quickly hung up, blocking another burner number. They were out of line, once again, yet Shepard felt no urge to discipline a stranger's child.
Sam needed to finally settle on another interview partner.
Desperation didn't suit the aspiring social media star. In some passing moments, he couldn't help but admire their gall, but this sympathy became obsolete now that Sam was long dropped from the invitation list.
Shepard had been busy the last few days, and only one desperate caller was worth waiting for - somebody who could break down the walls Lukas built.
Scratching through the scruff of his beard, Shepard realized just how badly he had let himself go these last six months. Enough with the self-pity, with his constant grief! It was time to clean up the messes left behind.
"I know we can't continue like it used to be," he admitted, nothing but honest, and pulled out a stack of papers from under the bed.
Lukas rolled over, curious for the first time since his arrival. From the front of the brochures, young adults smiled at him in picture-perfect contentment, lounging on the green lawns in front of an old brick building. They really made college look like a living dream, a future only one payment away from your fingertips.
Mount Pleasant, Fort Collins, Arlington - they all grinned at him expectantly.
"Why now?" Luke asked numbly, his father's motives long beyond his understanding.
"I wanted to discuss this over dinner," the old man simply whispered, pressing a kiss on top of his head. "I listened this time, you'll see. Why don't you take a look for a few minutes? Pick a favorite if you like..."
The price for his generosity was too obvious to even mention: the immoral idea that Lukas was ready to sell his freedom for a handful of credit points.
Hey friend! How are you? Thank you for all the time you dedicated to all your whump stories! My favourite is Stack the Deck ❤️❤️❤️ It’s my favorite whump story of all time! I reread all the time
Thank you so much! 🥹❤️ I need to be whumped into writing myself istg, otherwise I won't get my ass back up. But thank you for hanging in there with me 🤝
I just wanted to say thank you for writing the Stacked Deck series; you have no idea how rare a good Regretful + Delusional Whumper is (with a side of pathetic), and the gut punch in the first half where we find out that all that torture was for nothing 😭.
I have been rereading the whole series multiple times, keep up the good work 👍
omg thank you so much! 🥹🫢 it's so nice to know that there are still folks out there reading my silly stories, even though the last update was ages ago 😭
I need to get my ass back into writing to finally finish Elliot's and Morris' story, it will happen some day I promise!🙏
Content Warnings: female whumpee, male whumper/female whumpee, POC whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), captivity whump, referenced kidnapping
Word Count: 2,313 Previous Next
Dani stood in the bathtub on her tippy toes, reaching for the rusted shower head.
Damn this family and how tall they are, was all Dani could think to herself as she struggled to move the shower head into a position that was better for her height. Last week, Jack had given her permission and access to use the bathroom again, but she still was getting used to showering in there. Jack had removed the lock from the door, meaning he could theoretically come in at any time, which left Dani on edge whenever she tried showering. This time around, she had planned it around when they’d be eating breakfast, hoping he’d be too distracted with the meal to even think of coming by to take a peek while she showered.
Turning on the water, Dani hissed as the freezing water hit her bare body. The cold numbed her wounds, at the very least, but left her shivering. As the water warmed, Dani started on her hair, massaging her scalp and attempting to detangle her curls from each other. Pulling her hand away from her scalp, Dani saw a chunk of hair that came along with it. Frustrated, she threw the chunk of hair down onto the bathtub drain.
She got out of the shower once the warm water started to burn the cuts on her body from the switch, leaving her wash cloth on the side of the bathtub to dry. She dried herself off with the tattered towel she’d been given, wincing whenever the towel touched her wounds. Dani reached for the pile of clothes she’d left on top of the toilet seat once she was dry, gently pulling on the t-shirt, jeans, and pair of underwear she’d been given. Once she was dry, she waited by the door, knocking to signify to the two outside of it that she was done, like she was instructed to do. She nearly gasped when the door opened instantaneously, Jack standing outside of it.
“Come out here,” he said, gesturing with his hand for her to come forward. “We’ve got some good news for you.”
Dani slowly came forward, stepping in front of him outside of the bathroom and looking back to him to see where she was supposed to go. He ushered her forward, to the middle of the dining and living room. Dani could see the girl sitting at the dining table, toying with her food with her fork, avoiding looking her way.
“So, I’ve been thinking.” Jack started. Dani whipped around to face him. “It must be awfully boring being chained up all day, isn’t it?”
Dani’s eyes squinted at him, trying to see through the bullshit facade he was putting on. Where the hell is he going with this? Cautiously, she nodded.
“How would you like to have free reign in the study?”
It sounded too good to be true. “What would I have to do to earn it?” Dani asked, turning her head away slightly. This had to be a trick.
But Jack just waved his hand. “Oh, nothing. I’m just getting tired of bending down to unlock your cuff every few hours is all.”
She didn’t believe him.
Dani looked over to where Sarah was sitting again. Sarah avoided her gaze, instead now staring at something in front of her. So much for an answer from her.
Dani looked back over to Jack. “Sure.” Dani said, apprehensive.
The man hummed to himself. “It’d be on a trial basis,” he says. “If you can learn to behave yourself, we can think of making it more permanent.”
The air is silent, for a moment, before Dani realizes what she needs to say next. “Thanks,” she says, hugging the bundle of dirty laundry to her chest. Jack nods, a small smile on his lips. Dani nods back, feeling uncomfortable at the familiarity between them, as she makes her way back to the room. Jack doesn’t follow her. It’s a first.
The room feels smaller now that Dani has unfettered access to it, although it wasn’t very large to begin with. Putting her clothes down on the floor next to the door, Dani straightens again, walking forward to observe the rest of the study at a different angle than was previously available. Everything was more or less the same, but shorter now. The bookshelf wasn’t nearly as wide as Dani thought it was. Jack’s leather armchair wasn’t nearly as far away. The first thing, the very first thing Dani decided to do with her freedom within the room, was walk to the window and stare out of it. Just as Sarah had said sat an aging wooden barn at the edge of the clearing, its doors open, but Dani couldn’t see what was inside of it from where she stood. Next to her sat a small wooden side table, and on it sat the worn Bible the man had used with her for their lessons. Dani couldn’t help but trace a finger over the cracked leather spine, and then the engraved letters within the front of the leather cover. Hesitating, Dani took the book into her own hands, and flipped to the first page.
The pages were yellowed and dog-eared, handwriting scribbled into the margins in different inks. The book was clearly well-loved, well-studied, and well-used. As Dani continued to flip through the pages, she didn’t notice the man who leaned against the open door frame, watching her.
“Curious, are we?” The man asked, scrutinizing her from across the room. Dani nearly dropped the book in surprise.
“I was just—“ Dani sighed, shutting the book. “Never mind.”
Jack hummed, walking to her and held out a hand to her. Dani, dutifully, placed the spine of the book in his open palm. He turned the book over in his hands, inspecting it for damage. Finding none, he placed the book back on the small wooden side table. “Had that since before I was your age,” he told Dani. “We’ve been through… quite a lot together.”
Dani gave him a pressed lip approximation of a smile. She really didn’t give a shit about the relationship he had with an old book, but it’s not like she had much of a choice when hearing about it.
Jack tapped on the cover of the book with his fingers. “I’ll see about getting you your own copy, once I can trust you to not destroy one.”
“Fun.”
The man gave her a harsh look. “I take the Bible’s care very seriously, darlin’. And I’ll expect you to do the same.”
Dani said nothing to that, turning to look at the built-in bookshelves that spanned the length of the wall across from her. “Am I allowed to touch the other books?” She asked, turning back to him.
Jack shrugged, utterly blase about the whole ordeal. “If you really feel so inclined. I can’t imagine most of it would interest you, though.”
She nodded, walking to the books and running a finger down one of their spines. Admittedly, she wasn’t very interested in the books themselves, but rather what they might contain within them.
More notes.
Eventually, the man waved a hand to her before exiting the study, leaving her alone with the books. She leaned over to peek at the open door to the study to make sure that he was really gone before turning back to the books. Gripping one by the spine, Dani quickly slipped it off the shelf and began flipping through it. When she found nothing inside it, she placed the book down onto the floor before reaching for another and repeating the process. She must’ve lost track of time, because when she heard footsteps again, she’d already amassed a pile of books on the floor, and a gap in the bookshelf.
“What are you doing?” A light voice rang out from outside of the room. Dani looked up from the book she was flipping through to see long, straight blonde hair hanging off the girl standing outside the study doors, a concerned, possibly confused look on her face.
Dani looked down at the book in her hand, then the pile of books on the floor. “I’m just, uh.” She gesticulated with the book in her hand. “Looking for something to read.”
Sarah nodded, looking utterly confused. “Okay…” She said quietly, still staring.
Dani sighed. “Do you, um, have to watch? I’m just trying to go through these books, and it’s kind of weird with you watching—“
The other girl disappeared before Dani had finished speaking. Still staring at the empty space Sarah had left behind, Dani continued with flipping through the book she was holding, pausing when her fingers hit a loose piece of paper.
Another note.
—————
Life had gone back to normal after Max had visited Detective Darwin’s office. There’d been no word on anything Dani related, and Detective Darwin was his best lead, so Max tried to settle back in to daily life while he waited for an update.
“Try,” being the operative word.
Every day went by by routine. Wake up. Eat something. Drop Mindy off at school. Head to the corner store and work for a few hours. Head to Dale’s on his lunch break to drop off a shipment. Make sure Mindy gets picked up from school. Go back to the corner store. Work until close. Deliver pizzas until the local pizza shop closes. Head home.
It was utterly mind-numbing work.
Occasionally, there’d be the occasional break. Having lunch at Dale’s and talking with Christina about whatever the latest gossip was surrounding the diner. A late night movie marathon with Mindy on a weekend he took off. Sometimes, he’d even open up his laptop and stare at the acceptance email he’d gotten from The University of Lynchburg, but quickly close it again when it made the anxiety in his chest flare up. That wasn’t even his crusade to begin with. It’d been Dani’s idea, to apply, and stupidly enough, he did it. How could he even think of leaving everything behind to go to some school two hours away?
It didn’t really matter now. There’s no way he’d be able to go now, anyways.
One afternoon, when he sat in the parent pickup line at Mindy’s school, was when he got the call. He didn’t recognize the number, but he sure as hell recognized the voice on the other end of the line.
“Is this Maxwell Akito?” The voice on the other end of the line asked.
Max nearly dropped his phone.
Fumbling it in his hands, Max answered, “Yes, this is he.”
Detective Darwin coughed on the other end of the line. “I found some things on this Sheridan Wallis of yours that might be of interest to you,” he said.
Max sat with bated breath. “Okay.”
“For one, that’s not her actual name.” Max could hear Detective Darwin messing with something on the other end of the line, and then the tell-tale sound of the flipping of paper from a notepad. “Her legal name is Sheridan Felicia Wayes. Her birthdate doesn’t match up with the paperwork you gave me, either. She’s about two years younger than whatever date she had told you. Now, this is probably because she was living as a runaway for two years. Her mother reported her missing when she was sixteen after an argument they had had and an attempted arrest.”
Max reached back to the backseat of his truck to retrieve his own pen and paper. He had suspected something had happened between her and her family, but he hadn’t looked too hard into it. Figured if she wanted to tell him, she would. He quickly scratched the newfound name down on the back of the packet of papers he’d found in his backseat and balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder. “Alright.”
“No one’s heard from her in the past six years. Up until now, that is. Something interesting came up with her car, too.”
“And that is?”
“It was reported stolen by a mister Gavin Addams about three years ago.”
Max’s spare hand tapped on the side of his steering wheel as he took in the information. A stolen car was… a lot, admittedly. Especially with how much Dani had depended on it, he had always suspected it was her own, paid for with a single paycheck and a dream.
“Was there any sign of it being a botched sale or something?” Max asked the other man on the other line.
“Nope, pure grand theft auto. It belonged to her former boyfriend before she left with his car.” Detective Darwin told him.
Oh, Dani. Max thought to himself, sighing. “Did you find anything on her current situation?” He asked, impatient. As good as it was to know these details about Dani’s former life, it did nothing to solve where she was at now and if she was safe.
“That’s what I was getting to,” Detective Darwin’s pen hitting the notepad echoed through the phone. “That last detail was discovered when they found her car abandoned in a parking garage in Kingsport, Tennessee. Considering her car hasn’t been touched in weeks, and the people running the car garage have no record of her checking that car in herself, it’s looking as though you might be right. I’ve contacted my contacts at the FBI. It appears like this may, in fact, be a missing person’s case.”
Max didn’t have time to respond before the passenger seat door to his truck flung open and his little sister flopped inside.
“I have to go, but thank you for letting me know.” Max said quickly before hanging up the phone. His little sister looked at him, puzzled, as he quickly started to pull out of the parent pickup line and out of the school parking lot.
Thinking a lot about a manipulative whumper in the same way that snake-coded characters are depicted as tempting.
Their words are smooth and honey-like, worming their way into Whumpee's ears and melting their resistance.
Whumpee would never in their right mind agree to give in but can't resist the mind games (whether magical, drug induced, or not).
"Aren't you so tired of fighting? Don't you just want to let go? Hand over all the responsibility to someone else? Let me take care of it. Don't worry about anything... Give it all over to me..." etc
Just someone who is so good at seeing what someone wants and promising it to them so they get what they want out of the situation (a follower, a servant, a victory, etc)
Seeing a whumpee who is so tired of holding it all together, who is so fatigued and overwhelmed but sticking through it with pure force of will and taking advantage of that.
I can imagine a Whumper circling Whumpee and speaking lowly and soothingly into their ears, whispering wonderful promises or even horrible things but the voice is so relaxing that Whumpee loses themselves
You ever check out the other works that @oliversrarebooks has? Corporate Retreat currently has me in a chokehold (again). Passengers is closer to parasitic, more direct mind control than the usual hypnosis stuff iirc. There's also a few fey focused fics floating around over there.
I'm gonna go dig up the cult fic, the evilsepiceye fic, and my favorite hero/villain fic ever rq and get back to you on this.
Yeah seconding the above recommendations, Corporate Retreat and Passengers are great, also her Human Resistance series is about hypnotic aliens that take over earth. And in that same vein, there’s Human Domestication Guide which is like a community made universe with a ton of fics on ao3 about plant aliens that take over earth so you might be interested in that. Heavy emphasis on ‘might’ tho, it’s predominantly a kink thing which I know isn’t your jam, but there are probably a few non sexual fics out there that could appeal to you
YEAH HUMAN RESISTANCE!!!! THATS THE OTHER ONE I WAS TRYING TO REMEMBER!!! I love how sudden the brainwashing is in that one. Like as soon as their eyes meet the alien's, a switch gets flipped in their brain and they are ✨Fucked✨. (Yeah, the humans can fight back a little, but even the brightest flame of defiance is so quickly snuffed out-- I love it <333)
There's also that BBU adjacent CYOA where the audience is playing as a journalist that is hoping to gather intel from the inside (it's in purgatory rn </3, but I have faith. I believe in the heart of the cards. Someday.......)
Anygay-- I have finally returned with the aforementioned fics!!
This one is my all time fave. Not exactly direct mind control, but there's some delicious lab whump + heavy conditioning and manipulation: https://www.tumblr.com/equestrianwritingsstuff/656057349784633344
💬 2 🔁 2 ❤️ 45 · Drowning Masterlist: · (Picture above is not mine, I found it on pinterest)
Summary: After torturing a villain and a hero
I was shocked at how quickly I was able to find the Jacksepticeye ego fic! It's got some prominent hypnosis and brainwashing, and it occasionally still comes up in my head sometimes ngl: https://www.tumblr.com/jaeyleo/726307904839450624
💬 3 🔁 3 ❤️ 12 · LOCKS OR KEYS: MASTERLIST · Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Part six.
Part seven.
Part eight.
I was also shocked at how fast I found the cult fic too lmao. I love the relationship dynamics in this one, and how the Whumper's perspective and reasoning has a logic to it that's surprisingly easy to understand (and even kinda sympathize with a little bit ngl). It just makes the abuse all the more fucked up: https://www.tumblr.com/scratchandplaster/742592163084369921
💬 0 🔁 5 ❤️ 25 · Tales of Arcadia [Masterlist] 🌱🌠🧶 · This series was created during Febuwhump 2024, so some parts follow the prompts → [Feb
How would Chris who is forcing Elliot to spend Christmas with him celebrate Christmas
In canon, they never made it long enough to celebrate Christmas together, but I love the idea of it!
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
A thick blanket of snow gave the street behind the glass an appropriate festive spirit: cars wrapped in white, panicked shapes scavenging any open store for the last piece of ham, or a lonely snowplow shoving brown mush into the gutters. All as it had been.
Elliot let his head rest on his palm, numb to the holiday cheer greeting him. Under the green-red-white twinkle of the string lights above the window frame, it all felt so detached from reality - a cheery fantasy he no longer was allowed to join in.
Somewhere far away, Mom was probably checking on her roast, still wrung-out by her double shift but relentlessly excited for the holidays. Dad would join in soon, too, but only after the sun had long set.
This year, someone was missing from the dinner table, and maybe it was for the better; Elliot had brought them nothing but pain and trouble this year. Not to mention last year's Christmas Eve they spent at the hospital.
Yes, this year things would be different, but only worse for him.
With a bang, the front door flew open and spooked Elliot out of his wallowing. A gust of cold air flooded the room, and with it arrived the only reason for the Ribera family's misery.
"It's so cold I thought I was about to freeze solid," Chris whined and quickly shut the door. His lamenting about the weather or work was no surprise, only that he was back this early.
Maybe the spawn of Satan that controlled every move Chris was allowed to make from behind a desk was feeling festive, too, and gave him the night off. How generous of the soulless bastard.
"Scoot over," he huffed and slipped under the covers, teeth chattering pathetically. The truth Elliot couldn't ignore, though, was that the body pressing against his felt ice-cold. For once, Chris' demand for physical affection was genuinely innocent, if only for a moment.
The man nuzzled closer against his personal bed warmer, breathing in his scent: "'m so happy you're here. Usually Christmas is the loneliest time of the year..."
In fact, every day Elliot fit in better.
His love just glared at Chris. What was he supposed to say in return? "Glad to be locked in here with you." Nah.
"Got something for me?" he asked instead.
"Whatever you like." Chris wrapped his arm around the man next to him, lips finding the crook of his neck so expertly, every kiss against flush skin looked neatly rehearsed. All his effort only earned him a scoff. He needed to bring out the big guns: "Plus some pecan pie."
If nothing else helped, food always leveled the playing field of their love.
Elliot was pretty easy in that regard, and that was precisely the advantage Chris hoped to exploit. Even though his lover had to be won over with a leftover Thanksgiving pie, it was one of the better gas station grabs Chris made to this date.
"Merry Christmas to me," Elliot murmured dryly. He didn't feel much nowadays, physically or otherwise, but the shame of cowardice did burn under his tongue.
"To us," Chris corrected in a sultry voice, snaking the other arm around Elliot's waist. No gift on earth could make him happier than this one.
Heyyy, I'm doing fine! I know I haven't posted in ages but I swear I have like 50 wips nearly finished somewhere. I guess I just lost my writing juice... Hang in there, guys, I will get it back eventually 🤝
Anyone who likes can still send asks or prompts! Happy holidays to you all 🎁🎄⛄
…who is only allowed rest in Whumper's bed, their sore and bloodshot eyes still squinting in defiance.
…dozing off, slumped and curled up in their spot, suddenly being shocked awake. The relief they yearn for never comes.
...desperately working on the monotonous task they have been given. Focus slipping, they can't afford to be caught slacking now: the consequences for disobedience aren't worth the short comfort.
…whose body is long too weak and limp to fight back anymore. All they can do is take whatever mercy is given to them.
…having to beg for a nap.
…shaken lucid by violent hallucinations. If only for a while, they have their spark back - fierce in their fight against the invisible threats their brain is churning out. To Whumper, though, the tantrum is quite amusing. The more intense, the bigger the exhaustion claiming Whumpee will be afterward.
…finally giving in and resting in Whumper's arms, too drained for self-loathing. Whumper just shrugs, curious if they have to do the same spiel again the next day. One way or the other, they will have their fun.
