#near suffocation

⊹ Iconography⋮ Strawberries

CW: female whumpee, noncon drugging, male whumper, Possessive/intimate/yandere/delusional whumper, emotional manipulation, non sexual noncon touch/ kissing, forced hand feeding, slight dissociation, threat of isolation, slight suffocation, forced intimacy

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Saoirse stared determined at her fingers as if she could pull at her own strings, but they remained limp no matter how hard she commanded them to move. At best all she could manage was a twitch and then nothing, just numb static dancing beneath her fingertips. She doubted if Cadence even noticed the small struggle at all.

The feeling of liquid concrete in her limbs lengthened the time she spent awake. It rushed through her bloodstream, the muscles in her neck stretched taunt like elastic against gravity while her back stayed flush to Cadence’s chest. She felt like nothing more than a plush doll as her head rested back on his shoulder, her body stuffed to the brim with cotton, spilling out her ears and head teetering under the weight of it. She could only lie still as he ran his fingers through her messy strands of hair, the feeling sticky.

The urge to just let her mind drift away from all of this was as heavy as whatever was in her system. But the anxiety that surged through her as her mind panicked to pick up the lost seconds, frantically searching her body before landing on his hands, wherever they sat, was not something she wanted a repeat of.

The least she could do was stay conscious. Even if it didn't really amount to anything right now. Another flash of the tv made her groan. It was too bight, her eyes too cloudy to even guess what it was playing; something black and white.

“Aww, are you okay sweetheart? Is it too loud?” Cadence asked.

Yes actually, the sound of it rocked her eardrums but it's not like she could say anything about it. Out of the corner of her eye he grabbed the remote and the pressure on her ears lifted, but as soon as it was gone she wished for it back, because now all she could hear was the drum of her heartbeat and the sound of his breathing.

He shifted her in his arms again, reaching out of her eyesight and returning with a strawberry and a syringe clasped in his hands.

Her eyes bugged at the sight of it, the infuriating tiny seeds still crammed in her teeth from the last one. She turned her head, trying to push herself away from it but it turned out weak. She could hear a smile in his voice, “None of that. Come on, you love strawberries.”

She liked them better when they weren't drugged.

Saoirse uselessly stared on, spiraling as he brought the syringe to the strawberry and pushed down on it, he actually had the nerve to do it on front of her, as if it was nothing more than an everyday occurrence.

A weak “nnh” left her lips but her mouth refused to cooperate with her. She wondered, without the drug would she even be able to speak or would her brain betray her then, too?

He brought the fruit to her lips to which she turned away from. He easily grabbed her chin and turned her back to front, talking into her ear, “Don't be like that, baby. Won't you let me do something nice for you? Or would you rather spend tonight in the basement?”

She stilled, the ghost of a chill creeping up her spine. She remembered the touch of the shadows being just as real as his.

“Up here you get all the food and cuddles you want, why would you trade that for a dusty floor hm?” he continued as he brought the strawberry closer. Pressing his fingers into her cheeks, it didn't take much for her to comply and he slipped the strawberry between her teeth.

She couldn't feel her tongue, just the pressure as he clamped her teeth down and sliced off a piece the fruit. And as he covered her nose and mouth she was soon suffocating and unable to claw his hand away. The insult to injury was how sweet it tasted. And it didn't help that he kept her starving half the time.

Her mind tried to convince her it wasn't a threat, that it was just as he said: a simple, sweet gesture she was too paranoid to take. But she knew better.

Eventually she had no choice but to chew and swallow the poison. He beamed, “There you go, much better! See it's not hard to be loved, is it?” he said as he snuggled back into her.

The last of her feeling slipped away, and all she could do was let the tv watch as it happened.

(tw for near suffocation, violence, and unsympathetic!patton)

Cooking is a skill that can easily be translated to other things. Baking, painting, crafting, and most of all, science.

Logan wasn’t the only side who could do experiments, but while he stuck to facts, pulling things from books and journals of doctors and professors, Patton preferred to dabble in what related to the occult. Potions, after all, could look so innocent on the outside.

Patton’s bedroom was stuffed to the brim with memorabilia. Nobody had the strength or energy to go through it all, which meant that nobody would be able to find any of the things that he preferred to keep hidden, for example: his potion ingredients. Powders and elixirs of all thicknesses and colors glowed as Patton stared at each one, determined to find the one he intended to use today. There were a lot of different potions Patton could make, but there was one in particular that he was looking forward to creating today.

The princely side was valiant and brave, brazen and brash. A good soul, but maybe not the best person. A heart of gold, but a mind of something more common. Too loud. Patton scowled as he thought about the prince’s voice. His raucous, penetrating melody that only he sang, and only he cared about. It was time for the prince to silence, at least for a day or two so Patton could hear himself think.

Green, red, gold, so many vials with different colored liquids. Patton rooted through each one, searching for the right one. There were quite a few silver vials, but Patton picked up one and inspected it for a moment before unscrewing the cap and carefully tipping the bottle into a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Roman’s favorite drink.

The silver elixir reacted with the unsuspecting hot chocolate for a moment, fizzing and popping, forming some small brown bubbles. But soon, it settled and silenced. Patton hoped this display was a mere preview of what was to come when the prince brought the infected beverage to his lips.

Thinking of seeing the prince so helpless, his eyes falling closed as his body became heavy in slumber, made Patton giddy. He picked up the mug and carried it out of his room, searching for his favorite victim.

“Roman, sweetie!” Patton called out, his voice like honey, “I have a little surprise for you!”

Quick and light footsteps could be heard pittering down stairs and down hallways, until the bright-eyed prince stood before Patton in all his willowy, radiant glory. Patton looked up at his lovely dear as he placed the mug into Roman’s hands.

“Woah, this hot chocolate smells amazing!” Roman enthused shrilly, causing Patton to force a smile. “I was just talking to Virgil about the coolest thing that happened in the Imagination, where the trees turned-”

“Yes, yes, drink up, honeypie!” Patton persuaded, trying to gently lift Roman’s hands, “You don’t want it to get cold. What do we say?”

“Thanks, Padre,” Roman said obediently as he drank the warm beverage, not stopping until the cup was completely empty. Perfect. “Now, as I was saying- ah!”

The cup fell and smashed onto the ground as Roman dropped it, bringing his hands to the sides of his head and holding it, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Ow, my head!” Roman exclaimed, “It really hurts! What’s going- what’s- what’s…”

Patton stared at Roman, waiting for his eyes to close. Waiting for his precious prince to fall to the ground, almost dead asleep. And he waited some more.

And he watched as Roman’s eyes grew wider, and he started to bounce up and down on his toes.

“I don’t understand what’s happening!” Roman shouted, “I don’t- I don’t know why I’m shouting! I feel so energized! It’s like I drank, like, five hundred cups of coffee!”

Patton couldn’t hide his contempt anymore, nor his confusion. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why was Roman being even louder and more obnoxious than before? To Patton’s dismay, Roman started to run around the hallway, back and forth, back and forth.

“I have so much energy, I’ve just gotta get it out somehow!” Roman said, appearing to be a strange mix of happy and terrified, “Run with me, Padre! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

In a burst of extreme frustration, Patton grabbed a fistful of Roman’s shirt and shoved him against the wall, holding him in place. Roman squirmed and fought, staring at Patton with those gorgeously innocent eyes.

“Patton, what are you-”

“Shut up!” Patton roared, “For one second of your life, shut up! You think it’s the right thing to do, shouting all your business, all your opinions, as if everyone cares about what you think all the time?? You think just because you’re Creativity, you get to bother us with every little thing that comes across your pea-sized mind?? Huh??”

“I-”

“I’m going to teach you,” Patton muttered with gritted teeth, “I have other ways to get what I want. You’re not going to win again.”

“Win what??” Roman demanded, “I thought you wanted me to say what was on my mind! Let go of me!”

Roman was a bit taller than Patton, but his strength was pathetic compared to that of a real prince. As he tried to tug Patton’s arm away, the moral side’s grip of steel remained, even as Patton started to drag Roman by his shirt towards his bedroom. Roman stumbled and clattered behind, awkwardly bending down as his back ached in protest.

“Patton, please, I don’t know what you want from me!” Roman said as Patton threw him to the ground in his bedroom, shutting and locking the door. “Why are you being so mean??”

Patton didn’t respond. He was too busy hauling a large pile of things, from trophies to photo albums to musical instruments, throwing them overtop of Roman. The heavy objects clattered to the ground around Roman, and on top of him, pinning the prince to the ground. The last thing to join the pile was a giant cloth sack, filled with metal and plastic toys.

Roman groaned softly as he fought to climb out from under the pile, but all together, it was too heavy. The memorabilia pressed down onto his legs and chest, holding him in place. Even his left arm was almost completely immobile, and what made things worse was that Roman could still feel the strangely artificial energy running through his bloodstream, begging him to be let out in some way. It felt hot and itchy, to be trapped while this was happening.

“It didn’t work, why didn’t it work??” Patton muttered to himself once the deed was done, searching desperately through his collection of elixirs.

He rooted through the silver bottles, trying to find the one he used. When he finally found it, recognizing it by the blue cap, he searched around it for some kind of label. He didn’t find one until he checked the bottom of the bottle. A large red exclamation point was printed onto a sticker. Patton looked through the other silver bottles before finding one that looked exactly the same, the only difference being a few red z’s being printed onto the bottom sticker instead.

The wrong potion. It was so simple. Patton couldn’t believe he had made such an embarrassing mistake. He looked over at Roman, still struggling against the pile that was practically suffocating him. He smirked. Maybe this would teach the prince a lesson even better.

“Hey, sugar cake,” Patton goaded gently, walking over to Roman leisurely. “We’re going to play a little game, okay?”

“Please,” Roman huffed, out of breath, “Let me go. I don’t- know what I did wrong!”

Patton stepped on Roman’s neck, his pastel-colored sneaker digging into his throat. Roman let out a strangled cry, looking up at Patton helplessly.

“This,” Patton said, addressing Roman’s mouth, “All of this. I’m going to teach you to think before you speak, and control your volume. A prince is a gentleman, and you, Roman? You still sound like a baby. A little toddler whining for his mommy whenever you want anything. Now, we’re going to have a conversation, and if you answer too loudly, or say anything ungentlemanly, I’m going to add something else to our lovely little pile here. Don’t worry, darling. You won’t die. The worst that’ll happen is that you’ll pass out. But we’re going to hope it doesn’t come to that. If you work with me, then this will all be over in a snap! Got it?”

“I-” Roman started to protest, but remembered what Patton said. “Okay…”

“Much better!” Patton praised, kneeling down and patting Roman’s head, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No,” Roman mumbled, “How…are you doing, Patton?”

“I’m delighted you asked! A point for my darling Princey!” Patton said, “I’m doing wonderfully, Roman. How are you doing?”

“Good,” Roman replied simply and softly, his body starting to tremble under the weight of the items holding him down.

“If Logan were here, he would say that the proper response would be “well”, but he’s not here, so I’m going to be merciful and allow it,” Patton decided, “You’re doing fantastic. See how easy it is to be quiet? And don’t worry, if you ever forget, we can always play this game again.”

“I won’t forget,” Roman said quickly, urgently. “I promise.”

“Good boy,” Patton praised, “Now, last question. If Padre tells Princey that he’s staying here overnight, or staying here for ten more hours, which would be the longer time spent here?”

Tears formed in Roman’s eyes.

“I- I can’t-” he gasped, “I can’t stay here for that long, it feels like it’s crushing me.”

“That’s not an answer, lovely,” Patton said, “What if I changed the question to two nights? Twenty four hours?”

“It would be the same amount of time,” Roman blurted out in a strangled breath, “Right? If it’s 9 now, and the morning time is 7, then it would be the same.”

“Look at you, being so smart!” Patton cooed, “Now, pick one.”

“But- they’re the sa-”

“I don’t like hearing rudeness, Roman. Princes aren’t rude during conversations.”

“Ten hours,” Roman whispered. At least this way, he would be able to look at the clock on the wall and count down.

A grin formed on Patton’s face.