Continued from Beaten to a Bloody Pulp, which was requested by @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi
Content warnings: referenced past violence, verbal manipulation/abuse, captivity, creepy comfort
It’s hours before Roux hears the door open again. They tense instinctively, not looking up as Ambrose kneels in front of them. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly. His hand brushes against the top of their head. They flinch away, hiding their face in their knees. He sighs. “You understand why I had to do that, don’t you?”
They don’t respond. Of course they understand. They did something wrong, and he had to punish them—scare them badly enough that they’ll never do it again. And it worked, didn’t it? They’re afraid to even breathe wrong in case it sets him off. They’ve never seen him that angry before. They never want to see it again.
“Hey, come on. Look at me.” They lift their head, watching Ambrose grimace at the damage. His hand cradles the side of their face. “Why don’t we go get you cleaned up, and we can go back to the way things were. We’ll just put this whole thing behind us. Okay?”
They can’t help trembling at his touch, remembering his grip on their shoulders, his hands covered in their blood. They’ll never be able to put that behind them. But maybe he can put aside what they did to deserve it, and he won’t hurt them again.
That will have to be enough.
“Okay,” they whisper.
He takes their hand and helps them to their feet, looping an arm around their shoulders to steady them. They’re tense, overly conscious of how much taller he is, how the bruises from his grip circle all the way around their arms. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve killed them. He could’ve killed them by accident—hit them too hard, or too many times, and they could’ve been dead before he even realized what happened.
They flinch as he gently squeezes their shoulder. “You’re shaking,” he says.
They take a deep, shuddering breath and release it slowly. “Sorry,” they whisper.
In the lab, he helps them up onto the exam table, gives them some pain meds and a small cup of water. He’s gentle with them now, excruciatingly so, careful as he wipes away the dried blood under their nose and on their chin. Every movement still makes Roux flinch, and his irritated sighs make their heart rate spike.
There isn’t much to be done about the bruises, so he gives them an ice pack for their face before leading them back down the hall. For a moment, they’re afraid he’ll put them back in that closet, but they’re relieved when he leads them back to their room. They’re hoping he’ll leave them alone. Instead, he sits beside them on their cot and puts an arm around their shoulders. They lean into it, letting him stroke their hair and comfort them, afraid of what he’ll do if they resist. Still, they haven’t stopped shaking, can’t get the images of his bloodied hands out of their head.
They start crying. They try to be quiet, at first, but it’s not long before it turns into sobbing. “I’m sorry,” they cry, over and over, muffled by Ambrose’s shirt. They feel sick, and they don’t know if it’s because of the fear or because they hate having to lie.
The only thing they’re sorry for is that Ambrose is a piece of shit, but saying that will only get them another beating, and they’re not brave enough to risk it.
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Ambrose tilts their chin up, brushing tears from their face. “I forgive you. You just made a mistake, that’s all.”
They nod, burying their face back in his shirt, sighing with relief. “Thank you,” they whisper.
He holds them tightly, and they can hear the smile in his voice as he replies, “Of course, sweetheart.”
I would love to see Roux “”behaving”” for a little bit… plotting to get away… miserable…. But also terrified of Ambrose and what he’s planning.
Just some Scared and Sad Roux, please
Masterpost
Content warnings: lab whump, medical whump, IVs, overly-affectionate/intimate whumper, captivity
Ambrose sighs. “This isn’t working.”
Roux lies on the table, panting, drenched in sweat, still restrained and hooked up to the IV. Did that just fucking occur to you? They’re too exhausted to say it out loud. They can’t count how many times he’s done this to them now, how many times they’ve screamed their throat raw on this table. Enough times for them to immediately start crying from fear every time he straps them down, but not enough for them to get used to the excruciating pain.
They don’t think anyone could ever get used to this pain.
They stare listlessly at the ceiling as Ambrose undoes the restraints and takes out the IV. He brushes a lock of hair off their forehead, cupping their cheek. “Oh, poor thing. You look exhausted.”
They grimace and turn their head away. “F-Fuck you,” they manage.
He just smiles and scoops them up in his arms, like he always does after the “treatments,” carrying them out of the room. Except this time, he turns left instead of right—away from the room he’s been keeping them in.
They stiffen, their heart rate spiking. He chuckles. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m just taking you upstairs with me while I get some work done.”
They hesitantly relax, resting their head back against his chest. They haven’t thought about the layout of this place much—they haven’t really had time to, between bouts of pain and illness and exhaustion. Maybe this will give them the information they need to finally get the fuck out of here.
Ambrose takes them a short distance down the hall before going up a flight of stairs. He opens the door at the top, miraculously without dropping them.
Roux squints at the sudden light—sunlight! God, they haven’t seen the sun in … however long they’ve been trapped here. Ambrose steps out into a hallway, and Roux sees that the light is spilling in from another room.
They’re quickly distracted, though, when they notice that this place looks like a house. Like one of those old houses that rich people live in, with wood paneling and old paintings on the walls.
They glare up at Ambrose as he continues carrying them down the hall. “You—you’re keeping me in your fucking basement?” they demand, their voice still raspy from earlier.
He laughs. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.” He nudges open a door and steps into an ornately decorated study, decked out with bookshelves and even a fireplace. He sets them down on a velvety-soft couch, and they lie down immediately. They’re still angry, and a little bit shocked to realize that Ambrose is rich-rich, but they’re also exhausted. He smooths back their hair, smiling down at them fondly. “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll just be over here working, okay?”
Ambrose sits behind a large, mahogany desk, scribbling notes, typing on a laptop, and Roux dozes, slipping in and out of consciousness. Every once in a while, they wake up enough to actually think. They feel so bizarrely out of place here, lying on this velvet couch with their bare feet and flimsy, hospital-like scrubs. It’s such a contrast to the stark white walls and medical equipment they’ve been surrounded by for the past … days? Weeks? It has to have been at least a week, but they’ve quickly lost track of the time.
They stare at the ceiling, lost in thought. They wonder if Luis is okay—they’ve asked a few times, but Ambrose either won’t tell them or doesn’t know. And their moms must be worried sick by now, looking for them.
They miss their moms. They also miss Luis, and their apartment, and waking up in their own bed every morning, not scared or in pain.
They startle as Ambrose kneels in front of them, concerned. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asks, brushing a tear from their cheek. They hadn’t even realized they were crying.
They jerk back. “Don’t—don’t touch me.” They sniffle, wiping their face on their shoulder before glaring back at him. “This is your fault.”
“Hey.” His tone hardens as he grabs their chin. “None of that. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
Everything. Everything is wrong with this, and the worst part is him acting like they shouldn’t be upset—acting like he didn’t fucking kidnap them.
“I hate you!” They start sobbing harder. His hand strokes through their hair and they tense, trying to jerk away. “Don’t touch me!”
The hand in their hair tightens, wrenching their head up. They’re startled enough to stop crying as they stare at him, his face only inches away. He doesn’t look angry, though—not yet, anyway. “Sweetheart, I’m just trying to help you,” he says in a low, level voice. His grip on their hair loosens, and they drop back to the couch, just barely supporting themself on weak arms. “I wish you’d stop fighting it—you’ll only make yourself more miserable.”
Tears well up in their eyes again, and they bury their face in their arms and sob. This time, when he runs his fingers through their hair, they don’t have the strength to pull away.
They hate that they’re not even startled anymore when Ambrose lifts them up gently so he can sit down beside them, and he gathers them up in his arms, holding them tight. They want to swear at him, scream at him, push him away, but all they can do is keep sobbing.
Eventually their sobs subside, and they’re left feeling weak and pathetic, sniffling as Ambrose holds them. “Are you alright now?” he murmurs. They don’t respond, because all they can think to say is fuck you, and they get the feeling he won’t like that answer.
They stay still and quiet when he picks them up, carrying them out of the study and back to the basement door. They console themself with thinking that at least one good thing came out of today: they know how to get out of the basement now. That brings them one step closer to getting the hell out of here.
Their eyes slip closed as they lean their head against Ambrose’s shoulder. They’ll get out of here for sure. Just as soon as they stop feeling so damn tired.
Roux’s hand freezes on the door handle when they hear Ambrose’s voice behind them, cold as ice. “Going somewhere?”
They frantically twist the doorknob. It won’t budge. Shit.
Ambrose grabs their arm and whirls them around, pinning them against the door with a bruising grip on their shoulders. “Were you trying to leave?” he asks in that same low, icy voice.
They lock eyes with him as he looms over them. Any words, explanations, pleas for mercy die in their throat. There are no traces of his usual condescending affection in his eyes—only rage.
His grip tightens. “Well?” he snaps.
“I….“ Their voice falters, coming out as barely a whisper. Their hands tremble.
He strikes them across the face. They cry out as their head snaps to the side with the force of it. He grabs their chin and wrenches their face back towards him. “After everything I’ve done for you, you were trying to leave?” he demands.
Their heart pounds, their cheek warm and stinging with pain. “I—I’m sorry—”
The next blow hits them in the nose. Blood trickles down onto their lip. “You ungrateful little—” Ambrose cuts himself off with a sound of disgust, glaring down at them. “I’m going to make you regret this.”
He grabs them by the shoulders and shoves them to the ground. The back of their head cracks against the floor. Their vision splits and blurs, but they still see him approaching and try to shield themself. He knocks their hands out of the way, his weight pinning them to the ground. He starts hitting them, over and over, each blow blending into the next until there’s no part of them that doesn’t hurt. They don’t know whether the sticky warmth on their face is blood or tears or both.
By the time he stops, he’s breathing hard. There’s blood on his hands. Roux trembles, bracing themself for another hit. Instead, he takes their chin and guides them to look at him. He leans in, his expression still hardened. “You’re never leaving me,” he says softly. “Do you understand?”
They nod weakly, not trusting their own voice. He scrutinizes them for a moment. They’re almost afraid he doesn’t believe them. But finally, he nods, climbing off of them. “Come on.”
He grabs their arm and hoists them to their feet. They’re unsteady, stumbling on every step, but he doesn’t help them beyond holding onto their arm. Both of them stay silent as he leads them back down into the basement, all the way down the long, narrow hallway until he opens the door to a tiny, empty room. He shoves Roux inside, slamming the door behind them.
Roux slowly sinks to their knees, listening to his footsteps recede. They stare at the blank wall, feeling the aching of their body, the blood trickling down their face. Despite their pain, they crawl over to the corner and curl up into a ball. It’s only then that they start to sob.
Also please Ramble a bit about your OCS what are Roux's hobbies and habits and some nice headcannons please
(this has been in my askbox for so long i'm so sorry dkfjgsdfsg)
ANYWAY let's talk about roux!! they do kinda have an "i'll fuck you up" demeanor when you first meet them (they've always been very short so this is how they avoided getting bullied, also their moms taught them not to take any shit) but they are very soft at heart. they watch cartoons and cry during sad movies and they still sleep with a teddy bear.
their house was always kind of hectic when they were growing up bc their moms are both doctors who help out heroes/villains/vigilantes on the side. they're very close with their moms, but they really want a quiet life: just a cozy house and friends and some kind of day job that gives them more time to hang out with loved ones and go on adventures. maybe someday they'll have a partner and adopt some kids; they've always wanted to adopt.
they're not quite sure what they want to do with their life yet, but they did move to a new city to distance themself from their moms' work, and they got a job as a barista at a small cafe and started taking some community college classes to knock out some credits, and they were pretty content with that.
thanks for the ask! it’s about time i said some nice things about roux lol
I would like to know more about your thoughts for the apprentice series... if you want to share them.
hell yeah!!
so originally i had roux and luis as random roommates, and it was just a coincidence that luis was a vigilante doing unspecified vigilante things.
now i’m thinking luis is the leader of a team of heroes/vigilantes and roux is on the team. except they’re not really on the combat end of things. they’re more like... the medic, the manager, basically background support. they’re the newest on the team, but they like everyone there, and they like the job. and they’re okay with not being a fighter.
...except that they’re super reckless and they’re gonna get into trouble, of course.
and as for ambrose - i’m making him a bigger villain. he’s well-known, he’s got big plans, and he has henchmen, which is a constant problem for luis’s team. he’s still going to take interest in roux, but not right away. i’m thinking they’re more of a hostage first, which should make for some fun whump :) (plus some interesting dynamics with the total 180 of ambrose suddenly deciding he’s actually fond of them)
so it kinda ends up in the same place, with ambrose being like “hmm i like this one, let’s do some unethical experiments on them,” but i like the background of it a little better. feels more solid. i’m still trying to develop it and come up with a few more characters for luis’s team, but that’s mostly what i’ve got so far!
mmm i’ve been thinking of rewriting the apprentice series.
it’s not like i got too far into it anyway, and i came up with some new backstory stuff that just makes more sense to me. and it’ll make it more “hero-and-villain-y” instead of vague generic evil antagonist and vague generic vigilantes, you know?
