Ｎｉｇｈｔｍａｒｅ
DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT Depictions of graphic torture, vivisection, there is comfort at the end but this is pretty gross
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Hawks x Reader
𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Everyone has nightmares. But when you can feel exactly what's happening to you... it becomes a lot harder to handle.
𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Dead Dove.
𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1749
𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
Cold.
Something cold and unfamiliar pressed against my back.
My nightmares had consisted of the same few things. Chained up or strapped down, used, beaten, rinse and repeat.
It always hurt, always terrified me.
But this unfamiliar feeling of cold and the inability to see… god I wish it was another one of those same nightmares.
“I hope you like the arrangement,” That man. The same man. Always him. “I find it quite enjoyable myself.”
Clinking of metal against metal, rubbing against leather. What was that?
“Your quirk has always been so interesting to me,” He sighed, opening something. Attempting to move my arms or legs proved to be futile. Strapped down and spread out, I was at his mercy.
Something he didn’t have.
“I thought to myself, ‘James, why couldn’t your quirk have been like that?’” Glass bottles clinked. “‘My healing is wonderful, but to create complex structures out of my own blood… now that would be a wonderful thing’.”
The flick of something against glass.
“I’ve spent so, so many years trying to figure out just what makes that pretty body tick.” Metal and cloth slam beside me. I flinch, swallowing hard.
“The one, final thing I have yet to try,” Something sharp drags it’s way up my stomach and between my breasts. “Getting up close and personal.”
A needle digs into my neck. I let out a choked cry, a hand covering my mouth almost immediately.
My chest grows tight as he takes it out, not bothering to put pressure on it. After a few moments, white light floods my vision as cloth drags off of my face.
I furrow my brows. I wasn’t tired, so why did my limbs feel like they were made of lead? “Muscle relaxants are underutilized. They’re great if you take them for muscle spasms, muscle pain, but not for surgery.”
I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the light change. My stomach dropped. Surgery?
My eyes shot to the side I’d felt the cloth, and I froze.
Various tools and metal instruments, some of which I’d never seen before. A vial of something, sitting beside a used needle.
“Wha… ou oo?” The words slurred together. My head dropped back onto the table, which I could see was metal. I wouldn’t be able to move soon.
“Pancuronium Bromide, a neat little drug. I hear it’s a great muscle relaxer.” He held a marker, slowly and methodically marking my chest and stomach. I could barely make myself look at him. My eyes were all I could move now.
“I also heard that it doesn’t quite have a sedating or pain-reducing effect,” That smile. That twisted, nasty grin. The same one before every fucking session, every beating, everytime he was sober and upset.
I was fucked, completely and utterly.
The snap of gloves caught my attention. I would’ve flinched if I could. His glasses were replaced with goggles, a yellow gown looking thing on his body. White latex gloves on his hands.
“My dear, welcome to your first and last surgical procedure. I’m no trained professional, but I really can’t wait,” He brought the scalpel up to my cheek, cutting into it with a fair amount of force. “God will be so pleased to see you like this…”
I hissed, trying to lean away. But nothing moved.
I’m not entirely sure when it happened. There was nothing, then blinding, white-hot pain.
My mouth opened to let out a scream… but there was nothing. My eyes burned and my face flushed. Bile rose in my throat as I felt my own skin being pulled over like a blanket.
Metal things digging inside my stomach. Pushing my intestines to the side, pressing down on my bladder- I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt urine trickle out.
My face was wet. I didn’t realize I’d been crying.
“How beautiful,” he hummed. I would’ve done anything to get him to stop right there. To move, to do something. To even scream.
But I couldn’t.
He’d taken the few liberties I hadn’t known I had until they were gone.
I was to sit here as he tore me apart. Silent. Unmoving.
I couldn’t fight back.
And that’s exactly what he wanted.
Throbbing, searing pain. Something gave inside of my abdomen. A gurgle escaped my lips as my vision blurred. He held up something red. Was it mine?
A whirring. A saw-like contraption brought up to my chest.
Please. Stop.
I’d never broken a bone before. But this had to be far, far worse.
Dull throbbing, broken by sharp stings and white-hot flashes. Pain is a word that doesn’t begin to describe it.
My entire abdomen burned. He held up white/red items, that smile on his face. I think.
“Even your bones are beautiful… crystals, even within them. Within your very veins. A medical abnormality.” He tossed them onto a side table. I would’ve flinched.
Everything swam in a blur of black, white, and static. The pain ebbed and flowed. Was I losing consciousness? Had my mind decided to block out the pain, or was it so much that I couldn’t even try to process it?
More searing. More throbbing. More stinging.
Fire.
I gasped as it became much, much harder to breathe. Attempting to cough was futile. Liquid built up in my lungs. My eyes wide, I desperately try to move.
Anything.
Even a small shift or cough.
Nothing happened.
The world faded into nothing as my lungs burned more and more, worse than anything I’d felt thus far. My skin flapped against my side as he moved me around.
If there is a god, let him take me.
Please.
Sharp pain in my right eye.
Finally, a scream rips through my lips, and everything turns black.
I shot up in bed, throwing off the covers and grabbing my stomach and chest. Coughing and hacking, I curl in on myself.
Something on my arm. I jerk away, shoving myself onto the far side of the bed. I ripped off the entanglement of blankets on my legs.
I couldn’t breathe.
Was I still drowning?
My breaths grew shorter and shorter. My lungs burned.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I grabbed at my body, trying to close wounds I knew were there.
My skin, thrown over my side like a blanket. Bones on a table. Organs beside me.
Blood.
Another touch.
I screamed, the feeling sending a jolt through my body.
Within my haze, I could make out two red blobs, and a blonde one.
The bed was warm.
Warm?
I grabbed onto a blanket I’d thrown off, holding it tightly. As if it would disappear, or my muscles would fail me.
My skin was together. It had to have been stitched shut.
My organs were gone, they had to be gone, I saw him take them out-
“Hey, hey– [name], can you hear me? [name]-” Something thrummed against my chest.
I grabbed it, the softness taking me by surprise. I stopped. My hands shook violently.
The blob turned filtered into a man with red wings. Tense, he takes my hand away. Red feathers, his feathers?
“Angel, look at me, please,” His tone was pleading. I jerk away from his touch, holding myself tighter.
“Please, don’t- touch-” my voice sounded miles away, removed from myself. Was that my voice? Did I sound like that?
“I’m sorry, I won’t… it was a nightmare,” Soft, gentle words. Kind. I shake my head vigorously, relishing every little movement.
“No, nonono, you didn’t- he- I-” I tripped over my words, choking on each one as it passed my lips.
“Angel, please, listen to me,” begging now, he reaches towards me. I move away, tense.
“I died,” I whimpered, curling in on myself. “This isn’t real, I-” A sob wracked my frame.
This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. I felt myself let go, I felt everything disappear around me, I felt the weightlessness of death.
This had to be a dream.
Whatever it was… it wasn’t real.
“Please, look at me,” His voice cracked. Shifting blankets behind me. I turned abruptly, and he held a fluffy blanket. “Try… try touching this,” He sat it in front of me. His wings were fluffed out. The thrumming on my chest remained.
One arm still wrapped around my stomach. If I let go, everything would fall out. Everything left, anyway. The other reached towards the red and white mass in front of me.
Soft.
My brows furrowed. This, unlike everything else, was unfiltered. Felt real and present, not 100 miles away. I grab onto it tightly, bringing it to my face.
A familiar scent of orange and sandalwood flooded my senses.
Familiar… this was home.
I was home.
This was real.
I stopped for a moment, my eyes finally focusing on Keigo. Distraught, terrified eyes darted to my own. A soft amber, like the color of the final rays in a sunset.
I slowly reached towards him, shaking so violently I was shocked the bed wasn’t moving too. He purses his lips, taking my hand slowly.
“Are ya back with me, Angel..?” Soft. Gentle. Warm.
Home.
I threw the blanket aside, grabbing onto him tightly and burying my face in his shoulder. My hands pressed against the roots of his wings, but I didn’t move. He tensed and sucked in a breath, slowly wrapping his arms and wings around my frame.
“God fucking dammnit… Angel, you scared the shit out of me, ya know that?” He murmured. One hand holding my back, the other held my head into his shoulder.
I could only whimper in response. He let out a sigh, holding me tighter. “Same person?” I nodded. He swallowed hard.
“He’s locked up tight, yeah? Miles away, nowhere even remotely close.” His voice was firm. “If he ever even tries to come within 20 feet of you, I won’t hesitate.” A dense seriousness coated his words.
I grab onto him tighter. “Please, please don’t leave me here,” I gripped him tighter. He tensed, letting out a slow breath.
“I won’t, I swear. Can you lower your hand..?” I immediately do so, face flushing even more. Tears and snot had to cover the front of his shirt. Shame coiled in my gut.
“I’m sorry,” I managed, rubbing my eyes. My torso was sore, but… there were no new scars or stitches.
“There’s no need,” He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, a hand resting on my knee. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”