Shota sat silently on the stoop that lead to his apartment building, staring down at his phone hopelessly. How did he let this happen? How did everything get so out of control? He was a hero, it was his job to stop these things from happening to help get victims out of these situations, not become a victim himself. A shaking hand raised to touch the growing bruise on the side of his face and he was suddenly aware of the blood and skin under his nails. Was it his blood? Or that prick's?
He couldn't go to a hotel, he didn't need to end up in the papers, and he wasnt going back inside until he'd sobered up. Shota's eyes burned, who could he call? Fuck...
He dialed a number and took a shaky breath, trying to sound more normal than he felt.
"Hey... I know this is weird and short notice -" He cleared his throat as the waver of emotions creeped back in. "But is your couch free? I just, uh, I just need a place to sleep tonight and I can't drive."
A and B are high school classmates and are secretly dating. A's family is abusive (verbally or physically). After a particularly bad day A runs away in the middle of the night to B's house. B has to try and hide A, while trying to convince A not to run away all together. Something happens (fire, loud noise etc.) and B's parents find out and after a lengthy discussion agree to let A stay with them.
A goes to the locker room early to change because his father whipped him the night before and he can’t risk any1 seeing. He doesn’t realize B is there until after he has already exposed the marks. Turns out, B is there for the same reason, except B always comes early because he always has bruises. I need dialogue for when A realizes B saw and B revealing his own bruises.
“Shit! No, don’t look… well… look away please..?”“Hey, it’s ok. I understand.”“I don’t think you do.”“Trust me…” *reveal*
“I… I didn’t think anyone else was here…”“Poof. Magic. Here I am… And I care, ok? You don’t deserve to go through this.”
Well look at that apparently I write fanfiction now for my angst headcanons. They takes place in the abuse au, after Robbie and Sportacus get together.
Warnings: Past physical and emotional abuse, PTSD, panic attack
It happened out of nowhere.
One second Sportacus was plateing his and Robbie’s breakfast; the next he was on his knees on the floor trying to pick up the pieces of the plates he’d knocked off the counter with fear in his eyes.
Robbie, having been startled awake, ran into the kitchen. When he saw Sportacus trying to clean up he frowned and rolled his eyes, not noticing the state Sport was in. “Now how did you manage this one?” He teased, intending to go for their usual banter.
Robbie didn’t expect the violent flinch and Sportacus quickly turning to face him with the most terrified expression Robbie had ever seen directed at him. They both froze for a breath, and then Sportacus was word vomiting apologies and curling in on himself.
Robbie knelt down in front of Sportacus, intending to hug his boyfriend and reassure him he wasn’t mad. He paused when he heard a particular phrase that worked its way in between the “I’m sorry”s.
“Please don’t hit me.”
Robbie knew that to say Number Nine was a dick to Sportacus was an understatement, but the man never laid a hand on him as far as Sportacus explained, and never even attempted to hit Robbie. So who?
There would be time to figure that out later. For now, Robbie had a crying elf to comfort.
“Sportacus, I need you to stop and look at me.” He said gently. Sportacus stopped his babbling, looking up after a second of hesitation. “Can I touch you?”
Sport looked confused, then nodded. Robbie scooted forward, and carefully gathered the elf into his lap. “I need you to listen carefully. I’m not mad that you dropped the plates. Accidents happen. Also, I’m never going to hit you, ever. Okay?”
Instead of responding, Sport simply closed his eyes and rested his head on Robbie’s shoulder. He listened to Robbie’s breathing, matching his own to its steady pace over time. After ten minutes of silence, Sportacus let out a nervous laugh.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Robbie.” His voice was soft, still climbing the last few feet to calm.
“You don’t have to hide any part of you from me, Sport. We’re in this together.” Robbie whispered back. Sport nodded, grateful, and closed his eyes again.
They moved to the orange chair, Sportacus remaining in Robbie’s lap. They whispered sweet nothing to each other over the white noise of the tv until the both felt content. They had a lot to talk about based on newly revealed evidence, but for now?
He felt terrible, his body hurt all over and he didn't manage to get more than an hour sleep the night before. He'd spent the time instead laying in bed and dreading work in the morning. The bruises on his face had only gotten darker and the shake in his hands still hadn't left him.
Once again he was thankful his costume covered so much. No one could see the boot shaped bruises on his rib or the ones around his throat. His thermos rattled as shaking hands set it down, willing himself to calm down and praying everyone would just assume he had a rough patrol.
I have to get it together, the kids can't see me like this.
Character A wakes up one day with no memory of who they are. After a quick look around, they find some pretty disturbing items, such as body bags, shovels, and a strange assortment of weapons. Character A quickly comes to the conclusion that they’ve been kidnapped and either drugged or sustained a head injury.
As they continue to search for an exit, Character A comes upon a door that leads them to a basement, the corner of which is occupied by a group of tied up teenagers. To Character A’s surprise and confusion, the teenagers all seem to be terrified of them.
