nsfwhump prompt below the cut so be wary and check tags
Leader whumpee who, after being raped by whumper(s), bashes whumper’s head in with whatever heavy object they can get their hands on. Not knowing what else to do they call caretaker team member who is absolutely shocked by the extremely gruesome scene they’re called to, but clean up and take care of it anyway, staying to comfort whumpee even though they don’t have to.
Hi could u do a scenario with a Gn/f reader being kidnapped the same time as finny in the black phone and the reader knowing finny is in more danger so they plan to escape but reader sacrifices themselves by tackling the grabber or using the belt to restrict the grabber in time for finny to escape? Sorry if it’s too specific, obviously make it how u want it! Thank u and pls take care of urself!
Sorry this took forever for me to get to, it's not at all too specific--I actually would have preferred some more direction! Wasn't sure if this was intended to be taken in a dark context or not, so I just went that way on default. I hope that's okay!
Warnings: Kidnapping, blood mention
“You really don’t hear it?”
You caught the tennis ball a ninth time, lazily tossing it against the wall opposite the one the two of you leaned against. Sadly, this mindless entertainment was all the ball seemed good for; you had tried to break the glass overhead with it (only to find you were not as strong of a throw as you thought), and had only once made the mistake of pitching it against The Grabber’s head during one of his “visits” (only Finney was given food after that incident, which he insisted on sharing with you, the sweet kid).
“It’s broken, Finn.” You threw your head back to look at him, watching the boy pace in a diminutive circle, his brows fixed in quiet thought. “The wire’s cut, too. C’mon, kid, you can’t be losing your mind on me already!”
“I’m not crazy.” Finney halted with his hands behind his back, looking forty years older with the deep frown on his face. “I know I can hear it.”
“So answer it, then.” You threw the ball again, this time missing it as it returned. It bounced off the mattress and rolled into the farthest corner, out of your reach. Damn it. “Not like it can hurt, right?”
Finney stooped to retrieve the ball and tossed it back to you. “I guess not…It’s just weird that you don’t hear it.”
You set the ball down on the concrete to your left, then patted the mattress at your right, indicating for him to come sit. He did.
“I know it’s scary, Finn. But it’s like I told you,” You ruffled his curls and he smiled, batting your hand away, “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m certainly not going to let him touch you, you hear me? I’ll be damned if anything bad happens to you on my watch…Gwen would throttle me,” you added, and you both laughed at the thought.
What a mess this all was. You certainly hadn’t intended for any of this to happen; Fate was just cruel to the two of you, putting you in the same place at the same time when this all had gone down.
Having just come off a grueling shift at the local recycled bookstore, “Judge The Cover,” you had been on your way home in pursuit of a long bath and microwaved macaroni when you ran into your neighbor’s kid, Finney Blake, in the midst of helping an older man retrieve some fallen groceries.
He and his sister were good kids—polite, friendly, and at that age where they were old enough to hold an actual conversation, but not yet into those obnoxious teenage years where they decided they hated you for no legitimate reason.
Gwen sometimes came by to hang out with your younger sister, and Finney occasionally joined them to get some homework done in a quiet home environment, so you would say you were pretty familiar with their family.
“You want to see a magic trick?” the older gentleman was asking him as he straightened his ridiculous black tophat.
But Finney caught your eye over the man’s shoulder and brightened, standing on tiptoe to give you a friendly wave.
“Hey, Y/N!” he called out, and the man in front of him startled in surprise, turning on his heel to follow Finney’s line of sight. “How was your shift?”
You huffed out a dramatic breath. “Never get a job in customer service, Finn, that’s all I can tell you.”
Taking notice of the shattered eggshells and yellow yolks leaking along the pavement, you faced the older man, offering him a cordial nod. “If you hurry back to the store in time, you can probably get your money back for these, sir.”
An artificial smile crossed the man’s equally-artificial face, which was caked in white paint. His eyes lay obscured beneath thick black sunglasses. This, coupled with the broken eggs, made you blurt without thinking, “Oh, I’m so sorry, are you blind? I didn’t even realize. Here, I can help.”
You knelt to scoop up the rest of the scattered grocery items, pawing them back into the paper bags.
“How…nice of you!” the man chirped, though his voice remained inauthentic. What was his problem? “Would you mind putting those in the back? There are some balloons in there, just move them aside.”
“Sure, sure.” You pulled the van door back, fighting to push through a mass of black balloons bouncing around inside as you set the grocery bags down wherever you could find space.
Finney’s scream drew your attention. You jumped, bumping your head on the ceiling of the van, and made to back out the way you came to see what was going on, but a pair of strong hands seized your hips, shoving you forward and down onto the van floor. Your forehead and nose smacked into the hard surface.
“Hey, what the hell—?”
You righted yourself, batting balloons out of your face as you tried to turn back around.
FLUMP!
Finney’s unconscious body flopped down into the van beside you, his expression twisted up in agony and the bitter fumes of strong chemicals flooding your nostrils. You hastily dropped over the kid, checking his pulse as best you could with a bunch of balloons dancing around your head.
“Over here, dear.”
You turned on instinct to follow the voice, only for a spray of burning liquid to assault your senses. Shrieking, you spit repeatedly to remove the medicinal taste from your tongue, but your vision spun fast, the black balloons melting into each other until they overwhelmed your eyes with the dark.
Since then, you had endured hours of huddling together in the dark of that deranged man’s basement, working through every inexplicable escape plan the two of you could put together.
That fucker with the fallen groceries was no blind man, that was for sure—and since the events of that day, he had equipped himself in various theatre masks, all based on certain emotions.
He had thankfully thus far not harmed either of you, but he never held back in his implications, and more than once you caught him watching the two of you as you slept.
“Could you not?” you had hissed, pulling Finney closer to you in a protective gesture that earned a low growl from beneath the mask; you found he really didn’t like when you got all mama/papa-bear-type over Finney.
Too damn bad.
You weren’t about to let your guard down. You were in this mess, too, so you had a responsibility as the adult to make sure you did everything in your power to protect Finney.
The trouble was, you knew you weren’t the one The Grabber wanted. You’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you supposed the man didn’t really know what to do with you in light of this turn of events.
On top of that, it seemed The Grabber was distracted by a surprise guest recently, so between you intervening and someone showing up unexpectedly to his home, he was probably too flustered to make any big decisions just yet.
This all changed one overcast night, when you found the door unlocked.
It was risky, for sure, but you had to at least try.
You led the way up the moaning staircase, holding Finney’s hand as the two of you crept up to potential freedom, hearts racing in uneven tempos. Feeling around for the door handle, you eased the door open.
Oh shit.
The Grabber was waiting for you at the top of the stairs, spread wide-legged out in front of you against a kitchen chair. One hand lay limp against his kneecap, loosely gripping the black belt now absent from his trousers, the other resting at his thigh. His button-down shirt fell open down the middle, exposing his broad chest, which filled and deflated with each slow breath.
He was asleep!
Your hand tightened over Finney’s before releasing him entirely. Wordlessly, you nodded at the front door, and Finney seemed to understand, tiptoeing his way across the kitchen, the silence only broken with the occasional snore from The Grabber.
You followed suit, and swore when you realized there was a bike lock attached to the door, but Finney set to work on it without problem. How he knew the combination, you’d have to ask him later—now wasn’t the ideal time for that.
CLICK.
Both of you jumped as a dog began barking its head off, alerted to the escapees by the sound of the lock clicking open. Without bothering to turn around, you threw the door open, shoving Finney through it.
“Go!”
“But Y/N, you—“
“GO!”
You’d probably known all along that only one of you would make it out of this alive, and that there was no scenario where Finney wouldn’t be the one to do so. You’d come to terms with that the very day you were captured, really; if that kid living meant your death, then so be it.
As expected, The Grabber was on his feet in seconds, boots thudding heavily around the corner as he neared you to see what was going on.
You lunged, seizing the belt from his hand and wrestling it away the moment he set foot on the carpet. With the element of surprise, you actually managed to steal the weapon for yourself, and made haste to wrap it around his throat, squeezing.
The Grabber roared in rage, hands flying to his neck to fight you away from him. You knew first-hand he was stronger than you were, but you had to ensure that enough time passed for Finney to safely escape, so you held tight, fingers going white as you pulled the belt as taut as you could manage.
Before you could register what was happening, The Grabber threw you off of him, sending you skidding across the kitchen floor. You slid across the tile and banged your head against the corner of the table.
Momentarily dazed by the impact, you allowed The Grabber to climb atop your prone form, straddling your hips with his weight as he gasped for free air, having managed to disentangle the belt from his throat.
"Insolent little brat..." The man held you down, exposed chest heaving with each raging breath. The belt now found your throat instead, squeezing against the hollow. “And stupid. Why did you stay behind? You could have gone with him."
“And risk having him caught?” You coughed as he pushed the belt further into your airway. “N-no way. I kind of always kn-knew it would end this way.”
The pressure on your throat relented, replaced by The Grabber’s mask scraping against the skin there as he leaned forward. “You had already accepted that?”
You nodded, choking on an unsteady breath.
“Hope it was worth it to you.”
In the belt’s place, the cool flat of a blade nipped at your skin. “You’ve gone and ruined the game, Naughty (girl/boy). I have nothing left to lose now, you know that? So I’m going to take this nice…” The knife sank its teeth into your collarbone, allowing blood to flow free from the punctures, “and slow.”
This piece tired me for some reason(probably because I tried to make this dramatic cause I thought I should try something new with my line art. Welp.) Either way, I love this pice and Idk what I should do next for a piece. I want to do either Shouto Todoroki from My Hero or Lucy from Fairy Tail. Tell me what you want. Her name is Sophie I hope you like it.
