#split orwell

Split - Part III

Pairing: Kevin Wendell Crumb x reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, stockholm syndrome

Words: 2,100

“You mean you don’t wanna leave?” Hedwig questioned, completely befuddled by your response, his attention span dwindling again. “Okay, I’ll show you my room,” he shrugged, taking your hand in his as he led you through the complicated maze. When you finally found his room, it seemed to be a well organized mess. Of course, you could never find anything in here, but he had no trouble at all.

“Hedwig, this is your room!?” You exclaimed, smiling widely at how much it truly represented his mind and personality. With everything strewn about, it made it difficult to maneuver through the mess, but he managed to get to the CD player and turn up the music.

“Do you like it? Miss Patricia gets kinda angry when it’s a mess, and Dennis refuses to come in.” Hedwig said, wondering how you’d feel about all of it.

“I think it’s amazing, it really represents you,” and, just like that, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning like a child. Hedwig always had that affect on you, to make you happy no matter what the situation may be.

“Wanna dance to some Kanye West?” He asked, grabbing you and showing you how to move as he twisted his body into different directions. You tried to mimic him, turning yourself in the same way, but, instead of dancing, you’d just ended up tripping on a pile of toys and clothes.

Hedwig laughed, bending over to help you up. Being the deviant you are, though, you decided to pull him down with you instead. He landed on the pile of clothes, rolling with laughter. “You’re the bestest friend ever,” he said, finally catching his breath as the two of you got up.

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” you reminded him as you wrapped your arms around him, comfortingly. He held you close, and you could feel him playing with your hair as you giggled.

“Okay, we gotta get back before Mr. Dennis comes, or he’ll be really mad that I let you out. Etcetera,” Hedwig nodded, walking with you back to the room where you were supposed to be being held.

The two of you exchanged one last hug before he disappeared, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. This time you imagined what it may be like to have kids. Patricia would be the aunt that would spoil them rotten. Hedwig would look at it as having a new friend and twenty-four hour playmate. Dennis would probably see it as a nuisance, and would ask that you keep it contained, and Kevin...Kevin would be the happiest he’s ever been. He would want to prove that he could do it; raise a child without all the problems he had to face growing up. That in itself seemed reason enough to do it, but it was all a fantasy made up in your head, and you realized that when Dennis opened your door and let himself inside.

“I brought you something,” Dennis fidgeted, awkwardly, as he did his best to hide whatever it was behind his back. “Close your eyes, and put out your hands.”

If he’d have said those words to Marcia or Claire they would be screaming with fear, but you could hardly contain the excitement that was coursing through your veins. When you opened your eyes, you found a book resting in your palms. ‘Frankenstein’ you read, feeling an immediate attachment to him as a person with this inanimate object. You ran your fingers over the cover. The pages looked as if it had been read a thousand times, but the binding was so perfect that it seemed to be brand new. This represented how well put together he seemed on the outside, and the story behind those walls; his beautiful disguise. Your eyes lit up at the gesture, your heart racing in your chest.

“I thought you might like something to pass the time. It’s - um - it’s my favorite. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to, though.” Dennis stated, his Boston accent thicker than usual in part to his nervousness. Tears swelled in your eyes, but you did your best to blink them away, still so awestruck that he had given you something that meant so much to him.

He was being so gentle, and, without even thinking, you leapt from your spot on the small cot to throw your arms around his neck. His hands rested against your waist, taking in the smell of your hair. Dennis was falling for you, and it absolutely terrified him, but you were just as broken as he was, and he couldn’t help but find some sort of comfort in knowing that.

“Dennis, will you dance with me?” You whispered in his ear, feeling his muscles tense at the feeling of your breath on his skin. It had been a weakness of his, and you’d known it from the start. That day he brought you here, asking Marcia to dance with him, you still burned with jealousy that it hadn’t been you in his arms. At first he was hesitant, his fingers landing stiffly against your sides, and you prayed to no one in particular that he would loosen up.

Finally, he moved with you, slowly at first, before the steps had taken on a life of their own. The two of you seeming to follow the same nonexistent rhythm as you danced to nothing at all. By the time you’d finished, you were entirely out of breath, arms around his neck, beaming widely up at him as you felt his chest against yours. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had been, or how natural it all seemed.

Your insides fluttered, dying to say what was on your mind, but there weren’t enough words to speak how this man made you feel. Which is why you broke the nonexistent barrier, and, without warning, leaned up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

Dennis stood there, awkwardly, letting it happen, eyes wide in horror before slowly easing into it. You felt his hand slowly move up your back before holding you closer to him. His other placed, softly, against your cheek. Your eyes fell shut, enjoying every second. Your gut told you that this was wrong, but Gods how it felt so right. This was absolute bliss. This was love.

Suddenly, Dennis pulled away, taking a step back as he put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. He was thinking, and you wanted to know what went on inside that beautiful mind, until he said something that cut you to your core.

“We can’t,” he realized, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have done this, it was a mistake. I can’t get close to you, it’ll only make things harder than they have to be.” He seemed to say it more to himself than to you. Finally, Dennis reached for the door to slam it shut, but you stopped him, taking hold of his thick, bulging, arm, and pressing yourself against him once again.

“Please, please, don’t go. I just,” you stopped, trying to find the words. “I dont want to be alone.”

The hurt in your eyes made him hesitate, and it was that split second of worry that told you he really did care. Before you could stop him, he’d rushed out of the room, leaving you in silence.

Feeling defeated, lost, and alone, you through yourself down on the cot before breaking down in tears. To your surprise, and after what felt like an eternity of sobbing, a soft voice came from the other side of the room. “Y/N, why you cryin?” Hedwig muttered, coming to sit beside you on the tiny bed. You had pulled your legs up to your chest, and, although you hesitated at first, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling into his arms. Hedwig didn’t know how to react, his body going limp compared to the stiffness of Dennis. You rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Ultimately, he opted for the safe route as he ran his fingers through your hair, soothingly.

“Is this because of Mr. Dennis? Was he mean to you?” Hedwig finally asked, mustering up the courage to talk to you. “If it is, I told him we’re dating, and that he doesn’t have a chance.”

“Hedwig, I need to tell you something,” you muttered, feeling your heart break once again.

“Wait, wait! Do you like Mr. Dennis?!” Hedwig gasped, unable to comprehend what was happening as he pushed you off of him. “But - but I thought you were my girlfriend?!” He stammered, looking at you like a lost puppy.

“You’re my friend, and I care about you in a different way than I care about him.” You confessed, trying your best to clear up this whole entire situation. “I love you both, just in different ways,” saying it out loud meant finally coming to terms with it, and it only made it hurt worse. Maybe you’d been wrong; maybe Dennis didn’t care about you at all.

“He didn’t pick you! He wanted them. The other girls! You’re mine!” He shouted, bringing you back to reality as your breath caught in your throat. This nine year old had found a way to pour salt in an open wound, and you could feel it eating at you from the inside out.

A heart wrenching sob pulled from your throat, echoing off the walls as you tried to stop yourself from falling apart in front of him. Fuck this, fuck all of it. What made Claire and Marcia so perfect?

Hedwig sat there, fearing what you might do next as the truth soared through your veins like a venomous drug. Your eyes were bloodshot, your throat burned, and you felt like you could never shed another tear, but they still came. “Y/N...do you want me to talk to him? I mean, he doesn’t really listen to me, but I can if you want me to,” Hedwig offered, seeing how hard this was for you. As much as he wanted you for himself, he couldn’t help that he also wanted to make you happy.

“You would do that for me?” You whimpered, wiping the tears from your eyes. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you didn’t deserve Hedwig as a friend, he was too kind hearted.

“Of course I would, but, I don’t know what you see in him, I think he’s creepy,” Hedwig shivered, making a disgusted face. It was enough to make you smile, leaning in for a quick hug before he took off.

Part of you hated yourself for what you were about to do, but the other half convinced you that it was okay. So, instead of shredding the book that Dennis had given you, you’d decided to read it instead. With every turn of a page you found yourself falling more in love with him as a person, and understanding why this book mattered to him so much. As your eyes grew heavy, you pulled the book against your chest, cradling it in your arms; which is exactly how you’d fallen asleep.

When you woke up, Dennis was standing over you, arms crossed, breathing heavily. It seemed as if he were contemplating how to go about this whole ordeal. Looking up at him, you were sure your eyes were bloodshot, and you realized your appearance must have been questionable.

“Speak,” he finally ordered, making you jump at how dark his voice was. This was a side of him that you’d rarely seen, and it was starting to make you nervous. It should’ve absolutely terrified you, made you cower beneath him. No, this voice did something entirely opposite. It awoke something in you that you’d never felt before; a burning hunger in your gut that was completely alien to you. You needed him like a moth needed a flame, and like an addict needed a drug. He was your drug. Dennis never made it feel like love, though. No, this was cat and mouse to him. Just another game, and, with your head in the clouds, you couldn’t help but let your mouth flow freely with how you’d been feeling from the moment you were brought here.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184289/chapters/57261976

Title: ‘Broken Arm‘

Paring:  *Orwell X Casey Cooke* 

Dennis: He definitely has a praise!kink, and is surprisingly submissive. He's watched how people have sex and has obsessed over women for years, but is more comfortable letting you take the lead and telling him what to do. He is worried about being too rough with you. His favorite part of your body is your legs, he never imagined he'd get to touch them, let alone have you guide his hands to your thighs.

Barry: There's lots of giggling and moaning, and there would be an equal balance between submissive/dominant. He's had sex before but never had a girlfriend, so really getting to know someone and what they like is thrilling for him. He'll figure out exactly what does you in, and likes to pay extra attention to your lower back and the dimples there after learning what it does to you.

Jade: She is a dominant one, so when she wants something she will tell you exactly what she wants you to do with a flirty smile and a promise that it'll be good for you too. She is all about foreplay, getting the both of you worked up before she's even really started. Her favorite part of you is your ass, and she never misses and opportunity to tell you.

Patricia: She is dominant, but in a more subtle way than Jade. She will gently guide you to where she wants you to be with a firm hand, watching you with predacious eyes and giving quiet whispery instructions on what she wants you to do. Her favorite part of you is surprisingly your ankles, after she grabbed you by them and slowly pulled you to the end of the bed and felt the delicate bones there, she loves how you twitch when her touch tickles you a bit.

Orwell: He is pretty chatty in bed and easily the most talkative. He tends to be submissive and has had little to no actual experience with sex. His favorite part of you is your lips, when you're kissing his neck it's one of the only times he can't think straight enough to talk.

Luke: He thinks of himself as a proper ladies man and is rather cocky about it. He's dominant but not extremely controlling, he knows what he wants and how to get it with lots of sweet talking in your ear in his southern accent. Your neck is his favorite part of you. He loves hugging you from behind and nudging your head until it tilts to the side so he can kiss and rub his stubble on your neck and whisper in your ear.

Split - Part I

Pairing: Kevin Wendell Crumb x reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, stockholm syndrome

Words: 2,100

When you woke, Claire and Marcia were huddled on the bed, whispering your name as they pointed towards the entrance. Turning your head, you spotted the man, dressed in different clothing. This time a huge, childlike, grin played across his face.

“My name’s Hedwig. I have red socks,” he said, joyfully, staring at the girls before turning his attention to you. “He’s on the move.” Hedwig giggled, keeping his gaze wandering between you three. Something was different, this wasn’t the same guy who had been in here before. It was almost as if they were all entirely different people. Different personalities jam packed inside one head, all fighting for a chance at the light.

“What did you say?” You asked, confused, pulling yourself from your thoughts as you wondered who this ‘he’ must’ve been.

“He’s...on...the...move,” Hedwig said again, this time enunciating every word. His mentality seemed to be lesser than the previous people he’d pretended to be, and you found it almost comforting.

“Who is?” You questioned, hoping to get some answers out of him.

He seemed to reject the entire question, instead choosing to agh you on by leaving you in suspense. “Someone’s coming for you, and you’re not gonna like it.” The man said, before quickly changing the topic. “You guys make noises in your sleep.” It was like talking to a child. One minute his focus was on you, and the next it was a mile away.

“Hedwig, can you tell me who it is?” You tried again, becoming more sincere with your way of asking.

“I’m not supposed to say,” he teased, laughing like a little kid. “But, he’s done awful things to people, and he’ll do awful things to you.” Hedwig said, excitedly. “I have blue socks too,” he finished, losing his train of thought.

“How old are you?” The question came out almost involuntarily, and you felt bad for asking. This whole situation was growing exceedingly weird, though, and you couldn’t help your hunger for answers. What once had been a dark and brooding man, now seemed to take on a childlike persona. It made you wonder how many different identities must be stuck in there, and you held your breath, waiting for his response.

“I’m nine,” Hedwig shrugged before sitting up a little taller. The man seemed to be proud of his age as he looked at you with what could only be a bright, boyish, smile. It only made you that much more intrigued as you scooted closer to him, feeling less and less nervous by the second.

“You’re not the one that took us?” You asked, sincerely, noticing the way his expression changed. You couldn’t tell if it was from your question, or the way you kept moving nearer.

“No?” He said, confused.

“You’re not the lady?” You tried again, wondering how all of this was real. For a split second you could see an ounce of hurt in his eyes before it flashed back to being entirely perplexed.

“What are you, blind?” Hedwig scoffed, growing more defensive.

“So, you don’t know how they think?” This time, you knew to ask the most strategic question of all, and hoped like hell he’d respond the way you wanted him to.

“No, they don’t tell me much,” he admitted, disappointedly. “I just ate a hot dog,” he said, his train of thought gone again.

Sensing a loophole, you got down on your knees in front of him, trying to get down to his level. If you thought this through, you might’ve just found your escape route.

“Hedwig, can you help us?” There was no hiding the slight begging of your voice, and his eyes grew twice their size at your question.

“No, I’m not even supposed to be here. I stole the light from Mr. Dennis, but he’ll be back real soon.” He panicked, realizing just how much trouble he was going to be in. “I can’t steal the light for too long, or he’ll get angry. Etcetera.” He added, making sure to get his point across. “See ya!” Hedwig shouted, leaping from his spot of the floor as he gripped the door handle.

“Wait!” You shouted, stopping him in his tracks. A plan was forming in your head, and you knew you shouldn’t lie, but for Marcia and Claire, you felt like you had to. Just because you wanted to stay, didn’t mean you had to force them here as well. Especially when you may have just found your one way ticket out of here for them.

“We heard something,” you finally said, catching his attention once again. “We didn’t understand it, but, now we do. Do you know what we heard?” Just like that he’d become completely engrossed in what you had to say, making it too late to back out of your lie.

“What did you hear?” Hedwig asked, eyes as big as saucers. If there was any of them you could trick, it would be him. Which is why you tried to bring him on your side.

“Come here.” The words came out softly as you motioned for him to join you on the floor. “I’ll whisper it to you.” This man was strong enough to snap you in two, and you were treating him like a child. If the other identity came to the light you’d be done for.

The biggest grin spread across Hedwig’s face as he took a split second to think it through before agreeing. This was the closest you’d ever been to any of them, and you should’ve been shaking with fear. Why the hell were you so calm?

“This guy...he’s coming for you,” as soon as the words left your lips his grin faded to absolute horror. You regretted it immediately, wanting to take him into your arms and comfort him. To tell him it was all a lie, and apologize for ever saying it.

“You’re a big fibber,” Hedwig panicked, words coming out fast as he pretended not to believe you.

“I never lie, Hedwig,” and with that one statement, you knew you had him. No matter how badly it hurt you, no matter how much you wanted to confess, it was too late. You couldn’t.

“But, Mr. Dennis, he said that he followed those two girls for four days, and that he knew they were the ones that he would want.” It all came spilling out as if his filter had disappeared, and you knew you were looking in the face of a scared, innocent, child. What you were also getting, though, was answers.

This was going to eat at you forever. You cared for him. Why in the hell did you care for him? Why were you doing this? Was it honestly worth it to torture a little boy with such mind games? God, you hated yourself. Were Claire and Marcia even worth the amount of damage this was going to do to your self esteem? It’s not like you were friends? Hadn’t Hedwig said that Dennis only wanted them? So why were you even here?

Coming back to the task at hand, you looked at the man, his face making you want to cry as you said the next words. “Hedwig, when you’re not around, Dennis and the lady talk about you. We heard them talking about how he wants a boy this time. They said they’re going to give him you.” Your head was splitting in two as you tried to keep up this whole charade. You didn’t even know what this man was going to do to you, but, apparently, it wasn’t good because Hedwig went into full on panic mode.

“No! Miss Patricia, she said...she said she’s not mad at me anymore.” He told you, shaking his head like a child who was just told something they didn’t want to hear. “She sings to me sometimes.” He added, reminding himself that she still cared about him.

“I think Miss Patricia is still a little mad at you,” you continued, only pouring salt on an open wound. Just like that, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, and it was taking everything in you not to blow your cover. ‘Maybe you were the real monster?’ You thought to yourself, hating what Claire and Monica were turning you into.

“Miss Patricia thinks I’m...” Hedwig started, his sentence breaking cause he didn’t want to say it out loud. Saying it meant opening up, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting you see his true feelings. “She thinks I’m stupid.” He finally said, coming to terms with it. “She thinks I make silly mistakes.”

“Look at me,” you told him, resting your palm against his cheek. His skin was soft; smooth. His eyes were wide with wonder, and you feel him tense under your touch before slowly relaxing. “I’m like your babysitter, okay?” You smiled, tears finally filling your eyes to see how broken he truly was. “I’ll let you watch tv, and I’ll make you a fun dinner. We all need to get out of here. You, Hedwig, you can show us the way.” But you didn’t really want to leave. You wanted to stay and help fix the damage you’d just done to him. The damage that the world had done to him, and to all of the others.

“Wait a minute,” Hedwig realized, coming to his senses. “It took forever to get this place safe without the nosey bodies that work here finding out. You can’t get out of here!” He shouted, taking off towards the door again. “I have to blow my nose!” He said, slamming the door in your face.

“No, wait! Please!” You begged, but it was too late. Just like that you’d been stuck with the preps again, and you silently wished you were the only one he’d taken.

“Guys,” Claire finally said, thinking over what Hedwig had just told you. “He said something about making the room safe.” She looked up at you, hoping you’d have some idea of what that could possibly mean.

“This is all new drywall!” You realized as everyone dispersed, banging on the walls. Claire had opted for the ceiling, pulling the bed over as she stared to knock everywhere.

“Y/N, you were right! He was covering up a way out!” Claire exclaimed, jumping down as she picked up her high heels from the corner of the room. She jabbed it into the ceiling panel, creating a small hole before slamming into it again. Her heel continued to tear into the ceiling until she was able to make a hole large enough to fit through.

“He’s here,” Marcia froze, looking through the crack in the door. Your eyes darted to Claire who started to freak out.

“You can’t let him in! This is our one chance!” She shouted under her breath, trying to get a steady grip on the air vent to pull herself up. Twice she had attempted it; slipping both times.

“We’re not gonna make it!” Marcia told her, losing all hope.

“Yes, we are!” Claire assured her, finally taking hold of it before swinging her leg up to get inside.

“What?” Hedwig asked, trying to get into the room. “Hey, what are you guys doing?” He tried again, pushing against the door. “Hey. Okay, quit it. Guys? Let me in!” He pouted, using all of his strength to open it, but it still wasn’t enough. You and Marcia were holding it shut, your collective weight being enough to keep him out. For now. “What are you guys doing? Guys, you’re not being funny! You’re bein bitches!” He yelled, growing stronger with his rage. “Now, I’m gonna slap you! I’m gonna slap you in your face!” Hedwig threatened, before going back to his usual, soft, self. “You’re gonna get me into trouble!”

His force on the door had ended, he’d completely given up, or so you thought. Without warning a heavy weight was slammed against the door, and you were surprised the door hadn’t broken completely with the amount of forced he’d used against it. No, this wasn’t Hedwig anymore. This was Dennis, and he was mad. Your knees buckled, sending both you and Marcia falling to the floor.

Split - Part II

Pairing: Kevin Wendell Crumb x reader

Warnings: angst, stockholm syndrome

Words: 2,500

There was a split second of fear that rushed through you when Dennis returned to your room with Claire. He was carrying the tools needed to repair the hole in the ceiling, and you dared not ask what had happened to her. Of course, you almost immediately assumed the worst, but you knew she’d brought it on herself. She was the one who wanted to escape.

When Dennis finally spoke, his voice seemed to carry a note of anger at what the girl had done. How could you blame him? She was only making things more difficult in the end. Busting a hole in the ceiling, forcing him to chase her down, and then him having to find a new place to put her while also repairing what she’d broke; he deserved to be angry.

“You will not see your friend again, she will be kept separate.” He told you and Marcia, being upfront. When he finally looked the two of you over, his hand instinctively went to the back of his head where he seemed to be rubbing out a quickly forming headache. You wondered what could’ve caused it until you noticed the flakes of drywall scattered across your clothes from your attempted escape. “You, take off your skirt.” Dennis demanded, pointing a finger at Marcia’s dirty clothes.

Your breath hitched in your throat, wondering what piece of clothing you would be forced to remove. “You, take off your shirt,” he ordered, making you sigh in relief. The last thing you wanted was to be walking around in your underwear. Sure the man intrigued you, but it was a bit too soon for him to see that much of you just yet, and at least you’d been wearing a tank top underneath. Of course, you knew you’d be lying if you said a part of you hadn’t wanted to comfort him. To take him into your arms, and soothe away all the stress he was going through.

In the flip of a switch he’d managed to pull himself together once again, though, taking on his dark demeanor. This made you wonder why he always seemed to put up such a thick wall between him and anyone else who may try to get close. You assumed he must’ve been hurt in the past, but that only made you want to be there for him even more. Without saying another word, Dennis turned and left the room, clothes in hand. Should you have said something? Would it have made a difference?

It had been hours before you’d been visited again, this time by Patricia. To your surprise, she slipped a bright blue flower into your hair, complimenting your delicate features, but rejected to do the same for Marcia. Part of her was jealous, the other relieved it hadn’t been her. To you, it was a sign. A sign of worth, a sign of beauty, a sign that you meant something to someone, and you wondered if you’d ever take it out.

Finally, she took your hand in hers’, sending an immediate rush of euphoria to your brain, and you attempted to mask the way your face began to burn bright red. Patricia was leading you both into another room where you’d never been before. It was a quaint little kitchen, big enough for one person to cook while another sat at the table behind it. She’d made a set of sandwiches, requesting that you eat up before continuing to make more. The longer you were here, the more this place was starting to feel like home.

After several bites of your food, you noticed the way Marcia was starting to look at you. She was attempting to mumble some sort of plan behind Patricia’s back, and you tried to stop her from going along with it, but it was too late. Marcia was on her feet, raising the chair over her head in an attempt to swing it at your captor.

Without thinking, you opened your mouth, saying something that surprised everyone in the room; including yourself. “Patricia, look out!” You screamed, moving to defend her when you caught hold of Marcia’s arm. The chair flew into the corner of the room, colliding with the wall as it broke into several pieces upon impact.

Marcia looked at you horrified before throwing you to the ground and taking off out the door. Patricia had not been far behind, though, and you watched her turn around, nothing but admiration in her eyes at your sudden reaction. “Please, dear, go back to your room. I’ll take care of this,” she assured you before rushing out the door.

You did as she said, having no trouble finding your way back through the maze of rooms. Anyone else would’ve felt defeated to be stuck back here once again, but all you managed to feel was relief.

If any of them were to ask you to leave, you couldn’t help but believe that you would beg them to let you stay. ‘Surely you must be losing your mind,’ you thought to yourself, lying back against the cot as you stared up at the ceiling. But oh what a beautiful mind this man must have. You’d spend the rest of your life here if it meant catching a glimpse at what was inside.

The thought of moving in came across your mind. You silently laughed at all the redecorating you would have to do in order to give this place a more feminine touch. How would they each react? Patricia would be pleased to have the company; someone to cook for, and to talk to. Dennis would no doubt make a few complaints; you couldn’t leave dirty dishes in the sink, you could never wear your shoes in the house, and please don’t leave your clothes lying around your room. Hedwig...Hedwig would beg you to move into his room with him. He’d always be showing you the cool new things he’d find, and he would always know how to make you smile.

Coming up with this imaginary world must’ve calmed you because, without even realizing it, you’d fallen asleep. It couldn’t have lasted long, though, because, before you knew it, you felt a heavy weight brush against the side of your leg. The springs on the cot creaking with your combined weight as you looked up to see Dennis sitting at the edge of your bed.

“Is everything alright?” You instinctively asked him while you watched him stare blankly at the floor. His head shook furiously, refusing to look at you.

“The dark-haired girl, she’s gonna be kept in another closet.” Dennis confessed, keeping his gaze locked to the ground. “You might as well know at this point.” He admitted, letting the words spill from off his tongue. “The Beast, he’s coming for you. All three of you, you’re gonna be kept separate.” It felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders until his eyes met yours. Slowly, they drifted to your hair before he spoke again. “Where - uh...where did you get that?” Dennis questioned, and it took you a second to remember the flower that was tucked behind your ear.

“Oh, Miss Patricia gave it to me,” you blushed, looking up at him with your soft, doe, eyes. “Do you like it?”

“Forget me not’s are my favorite flower,” he breathed, letting his thumb brush against the smooth petal. It took him a minute to realize what he’d done before pulling away and bolting upright from his spot next to you.

For a second he wondered if he had overstepped his boundaries, even went so far as to question why you were so comfortable with his close proximity to you. You always seemed to convey a sense of maturity that the other girls had lacked. Which is why you were the one who intrigued him the most.

“Why did you protect her?” Dennis managed to ask, still trying to figure out the feelings that always developed when you were near.

The way he said it made you feel as though it had been weighing on his mind. Which is why you hesitated before responding, trying to come up with the right words to say. “I couldn’t bare to see her get hurt,” you realized, coming to terms with it after saying it out loud.

This was your chance for you to open up to him, and you were going to take it. “You all have been nothing but nice to me. You’ve made me feel as if this were my home, and I couldn’t see her in pain. Because, I think...if you got hurt, it would hurt me too.”

The emotions inside your head were flowing, bursting, crashing into each other as you tried to understand what this feeling must be. It were as if you’d been touch starved your entire life; a bear confined to their cage. People would stop and stare, but no one was ever brave enough to take on your dark exterior. If they had, they would’ve found a beautiful creature that was both broken and lost. Still you wondered why this man had come to care enough to see past the glass, and reach inside for a closer look.

Had you been paying attention, you’d have noticed the way Dennis seemed to be looking you over, doing his best to assess his thoughts. In the process, he tried to remain in control of his mind while finally deciding on his next statement. “I’m glad you feel welcome here, even after all we’ve done.” Dennis said, nervously rubbing his head before heading back to the door. Before leaving, he turned one last time, eyeing you up and down once again. There was a brief second where you thought you saw a smile form on his lips, before he hid it once again in its shadowy depths. Could you be right? Was Dennis starting to feel the same way about you?

A handful of minutes had passed by, and you noticed the knob on the door began to jiggle before someone else came in to greet you. This time, it was Hedwig, and your face lit up.

“Hey, it wasn’t nice what you said about Miss Patricia.” He reminded you, making the smile fade. “You lied.” There was hurt in his eyes to know that his trust in you had been broken, and you gave up trying to hide your feelings.

“I’m so sorry, Hedwig, I just wanted to help Marcia and Claire. They were the ones who wanted to leave, not me.” You admitted, moving closer to him as you tried to calm him down.

“You guys lied to me, made me scared, etcetera.” Hedwig panicked, falling apart like a small child, and you wrapped your arms around his waist. It didn’t take long for him to gain his composer, forgetting all of it, as he melted into your touch. “Mr. Dennis, he talks about you a lot. He says he really likes you. That you make him feel comfortable.”

Your stomach fluttered, butterflies taking off at his words, and you blushed uncontrollably, coming to a loss for words. “You think he likes me?” Your heart was pounding in your chest, growing lightheaded at the possibility.

“Yeah.” Hedwig said, flatly, head stuck in the clouds just as much as yours. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, randomly, making you wonder where all of this was coming from. “I’ve been wanting to for a while. I don’t know much about kissing, though.” He finished, less than confident.

Something shifted, making you wonder if you should. It almost felt like taking advantage of a child, but, technically, he was a full grown man. “Sure,” you agreed, looking up into his eyes. They were a beautiful bright blue, so soft and innocent. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have assumed Hedwig cared for you in the same way Dennis was starting to. The thought made you wince, wondering how all of this could ever work if they decided to fight over you. Although you made that a problem for another day, tending all of your focus to Hedwig.

He leaned in, muttering a countdown as he moved closer and closer. “One...two...three,” Hedwig whispered, opening his mouth completely to take yours in. This wasn’t even a kiss, only part of his lips were actually touching yours; the rest against your cheek as he closed his eyes and pushed further into it. When he finally broke the “kiss” he looked you dead in the eyes, not an ounce of expression on his face. “You might be pregnant now.”

That was it, you had to stop yourself from snorting with laughter, instead choosing to smile, awkwardly. “I think we’ll be okay,” you promised him, rolling your eyes, playfully.

“Am I a good kisser?” Hedwig questioned, curiously. He didn’t like it when you lied, but this was one of those times where you couldn’t afford to break his heart. He was so sweet that it would pain you to tell him the truth and shatter his all of his pride. Plus, you technically wouldn’t be lying because he hadn’t really kissed you, right?

“Of course you are Hedwig,” you ensured him, watching a childish grin come across his face. He stood up a little taller, trying to act cool.

“You know, I like dancing.” He said, changing the subject again. “Do you like dancing? I like dancing to my CD player in my room. Kanye West is my main man.” He gloated, throwing his arms around in his best impersonation of a rapper.

This newfound swagger made you chuckle, and you took his hand in yours, feeling a confidence of your own. “Maybe we can go listen to music in your room?” You offered, joining in his excitement. “We can dance together! I mean, I’m not very good, but you could teach me!”

There was no hiding his huge grin, until he gave it a second thought. “Wait,” he stopped, looking at you closer. “Are you trying to trick me? Etcetera.” He worried, hoping this wasn’t a clever scheme for you try and escape.

“Can I be honest with you, Hedwig? I never really wanted to leave.” There was a slight pause, both of you taking in what you’d just said. You were pretty sure you’d lost your mind at this point, but you wanted him to know that you weren’t the one who wanted to go. It was Marcia and Claire that wanted to leave, not you.

Pairing: Kevin Wendell Crumb x reader

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, cursing, stockholm syndrome

Words: 2,500

Summary: The reader gets kidnapped, and starts to find a certain light in her mysterious captor.

Birthday parties. You hated them with a burning passion, and you wouldn’t be mad if you never had to go to another one again. The girl from your art class had given you a pitty invite, but secretly hoped you wouldn’t show.

Part of you wanted to prove her wrong, but the other part of you didn’t care enough to even try. Unfortunately for you, your mother had forced you to go. She insisted that some ‘quality time with friends’ was exactly what you needed.

That was until you’d arrived, and ended up sitting alone at the end of the table. Everyone else was taking pictures, gossiping, and flirting with the “cute” waiter boy. You could’ve hurled at the thought.

When the party was over, you sent out an S.O.S. to your mom in the hopes that she would come to your rescue. Fifteen minutes had passed, though, and she still hadn’t shown. Somehow you’d managed to be the only one without a ride, and you cursed her for letting this happen. Your mom knew how much you loathed the idea of social interaction, and you wanted more than anything to be back home in your bed with a good book. Why did she have to be late?

“We are not going until she gets picked up,” Claire’s dad finally said as his daughter demanded that they leave.

“It’s fine, I can wait, I’m sure she just forgot,” you assured them all with a half smile. All you could think about was the long lecture you’d be giving your mother on the way home about how this whole thing wasn’t fair, and that it didn’t help that she couldn’t remember to show up on time. Of course, you knew that when the time came, you’d just bite your tongue and leave your thoughts and opinions to yourself. Opening up was something you never were able to do, and you weren’t going to start now.

Claire’s dad immediately rejected the idea, though. “Y/N, don’t worry about it, I can drop you off. I have to take Marcia home anyway,” he insisted, not giving you any other option.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, following them out to their vehicle. Marcia and Claire took a seat in the back while you opted for the passenger side. There wasn’t enough money in the world to make you sit back there and gossip for the whole ride home.

Instead of focusing on them, you’d let your eyes wander to the rearview mirror, watching Claire’s father load up all of her presents. You’d have thought she were a Queen by the amount of gifts she’d been given, but when you peeled your eyes to look ahead, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off.

Glancing back again, there seemed to be no sign of Claire’s dad, and you’d assumed he had gotten everything loaded and was finally ready to leave. Upon closer inspection you’d found that the takeout boxes had been spilled across the pavement, and wondered to yourself what might’ve happened. That was until another man climbed into the drivers seat, and stared blankly ahead.

“Pardon me, sir. I think you have the wrong car,” Claire stated, more than annoyed by his stupidity of not knowing which vehicle was his.

Just then, everything changed. The man was covering his face, Marcia and Claire were being sprayed by some type of liquid, and all you could do was stare, curiously, at him while they passed out in the backseat. Why hadn’t he done the same to you? Did he not think you would fight back? What made you so special? You had to stop these questions from rolling through your head; were you really about to romanticize a kidnapper for being generous enough to keep you conscious?

There was a slight pause where you tried to regain your thoughts, this wasn’t the time to panic; you needed to think rationally. So you slowly slid your fingers to the door handle, grabbing the latch and giving it the slightest pull until the alarm went off, alerting the man that the door was ajar.

The look on his face seemed to be disappointment as he realized he’d have to knock you out too, and, you hadn’t even had time to panic before everything went black. When you finally woke up, the parking lot had disappeared. It looked as if you were in some kind of makeshift room in someone’s basement.

Something smelt off, and you assumed it was the stale air mixed with the earthy scent of the rock wall above the small cot you were resting on. Taking in your surroundings, you found a bathroom that was way too clean. Apart from that, the room you were in was definitely a work in progress. One wall was completely dilapidated, and pieces of the wood were hanging, limply. The two other walls seemed to be completely brand new as you recognized the sudden smell of fresh drywall, and the concrete floor did little to hold the heat of the room. It was dark, and dingy and, as terrifying as this should’ve been, you couldn’t help but be glad that this had happened to you.

No more school, no more family, no more pretending. Your mother would finally be off your back about leaving the house, and making new friends. You’d finally have some peace and quiet from the chaos that was your life. No, it didn’t matter what he did to you; just so long as you never had to go back.

Your eyes darted to Claire and Marcia who were sat on the other bed, holding each other tightly. Their whole demeanor had horror movie written all over it, and you could almost laugh at the irony. Yeah, ‘they would be the first to go,’ you thought to yourself.

You heard the two of them talking to each other before immediately turning to you, and asking you something you couldn’t quite understand. Apparently whatever he’d knocked you out with had been some pretty hard core stuff cause it was taking you a minute to snap out of it; still stuck inside your head.

That was until the door came open, revealing the same man you’d seen in the car. The one holding you captive. He was holding a chair, and placed it just inside the room, guarding the doorway. Before sitting down, he wiped it with a bright yellow cloth, folded it up nicely, and tucked it back inside his pocket. When he crossed his arms, you could see the outline of his thick muscles, bulging against his tight shirt. ‘The three of you didn’t have a chance’ was the first thing that came to mind. His face went blank as he stared at the wall, eyes finally landing on Marcia as she tried to tug on her short mini skirt; regretting her choice of style all of a sudden. The man took a second before gesturing to her, “I choose you first,” he decided, his voice coming out thick and gruff, expression never changing.

He picked up the chair, snapping it together before setting it aside. When he reached for Marcia, he spoke again. “This will only take a minute,” he said, thickly, dragging her away from Claire as if she were a rag doll. She squirmed, breaking free from his grasp, before diving at the two of you, but it was no use, he’d sifted her into the air, straight off her feet. The way she struggled against the door made you wince to see her so scared. Marcia latched onto the doorframe, horror blazing in her eyes. Even as she slapped him across the face, it still seemed to do no harm. This should’ve horrified you, it should have made you want to get up and fight for her, but a part of you didn’t care. Was it wrong of you to think she deserved it? To be the first to die while you and Claire had to wait your turn. What was this man doing to you? You didn’t even know who he was, in yet, here you were, willing to stay forever. Willing to throw everyone else under the bus just to be alone. ‘Maybe you were just as crazy as him’ you thought before Marcia let out a loud shriek that brought you back.

Her sobs could be heard through the thick, wooden, door, as Claire pounded against it. Marcia was begging him to let her go, and you could count the seconds on your hand before she reappeared once again. Her back was pressed against his chest, tightly, as he set her down, gently on the floor. She must’ve bit his hand as a loud grunt passed his lips, anger filling his face, before he took a firm grasp on the doorway, and growled again. This time, shaking his hand in pain before slamming the door on you once again.

“He wanted me to dance with him,” Marcia said, still shaken up by what had happened just moments ago. “The outside door is locked.”

“Everything is okay,” Claire assured you both, “we’re okay. We’re okay,” at this point you were pretty sure she was just saying it to keep herself sane. She continued to tug on the door, but it didn’t budge. In typical Claire fashion, she went into a full on pep rally in her attempt to motivate the two of you to kick his ass. You being the psychopath that you were, refused to participate. Which only led to her throwing a temper tantrum instead, and managing to turn this whole thing into some kind of democracy to get Marcia against you.

The two of them were trying to convince you that the only way out was for you to gang up on him, but it was no use. You should’ve been pumped, you should’ve been willing to risk your life to bust out of this room, and back to your happy little home life. But you weren’t. Because your home life wasn’t all peaches and cream like theirs was.

Sure, your parents were still together, and, no, they didn’t beat you. What they had done, though, was toss you to the side like you didn’t even matter. This place was sounding a lot better than anywhere else right now; because at least here you mattered. Maybe not to them, but you sure as hell did to the guy behind that door. You knew you’d never make it out of here with her plan. You’d glanced him over long enough to know that there was no getting out, and that, whatever she had up her sleeve, was a suicide mission.

That’s when you snapped. “Did you see how strong he is? There’s no way we’ll ever make it past him,” you reminded her, bringing the preppy blonde back to reality. “Right now we just need to stay calm, and do what he says. Maybe then he won’t hurt us.”

“So what, you’re just gonna sit here? This isn’t some kind of game, Y/N, this is our lives!” Claire shouted, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

“Exactly!” You hissed back, getting in her face. “And he’s been thinking about this longer than we have. No matter what you try to do, he’s already ten steps ahead.” Just like that, you went back to your spot on the bed, and sat down.

Deeming silence better than arguing, the three of you remained quiet for what felt like forever until you finally heard a woman’s voice on the other side of the door. Both Claire and Marcia dove to try and peek through the lock, but they couldn’t make anything out except her lower half. From what you could hear, the woman seemed to be arguing over something with the man who’d brought you here. All of it becoming one big jumbled mess over the girls shouting. “Don’t go in there!” The man shouted over Claire and Marcia’s screams for help before the door opened and you saw him standing in the doorway in woman’s clothes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him,” he said with a promising smile, pretending to be someone else. “He listens to me. He’s not well. He knows what you’re here for. He’s not allowed to touch you. He knows that.” Without another word, he disappeared just as quickly as he’d come; every appearance weirder than the previous.

Again the girls began to panic, assuming this was all just some clever scheme. They’d barely had any chance to talk before the man came back in again, dressed in his original clothes. He was carrying a bucket, handle draped across his arm. There were cleaning supplies organized perfectly inside, and he seemed to act more ordinary than ever.

“No!” He said, slightly panicked, when he entered the bathroom. “Please, keep your area neat. The bathroom, it’s unacceptable. To make it easy, I’ve color-coded these.” He gestured, showing you each individual bottle. “Use the blue bottle for the floor and the pink bottle for the ceramic surfaces.” The way he cringed at the spotless bathroom made you finally put two and two together. Between wiping down his seat, folding his napkin before putting it away, and how neat and orderly he always seemed to be, this man had to have a the most extreme case of OCD you had ever seen.

Finally, he motioned for the three of you to join him. You had been the first to go, knowing you were the only one brave enough; although others may have called that ‘suicidal’. No, you seemed to find a soft spot in the way this man was acting right now, and, as much as you wanted to hate him, you couldn’t. Instead you found yourself wanting to learn more.

Taking the bucket from him, you found a place on the floor, looking up at the man with nothing but genuine interest, and, thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to notice. There was an awkward silence before he spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe. “Patricia has reminded me that I was sent to get you for a reason. That you are sacred food, and I promise not to bother you again.” You wanted to believe he said it apologetically, but it didn’t come off that way in the slightest. This should’ve horrified you, but your mentality was so off that you found it almost reassuring that you’d be staying here longer.

The three of you cleaned the bathroom in little to no time, each of you picking a different surface. Although it had been clean before, you somehow had managed to give the room a whole new sparkle and shine. By the time you were finished, the energy from your body had been completely drained; both from the cleaning and the kidnapping. The small, uncomfortable, cot now looking like a five star mattress as you fell face first into the pillow, and passed out from absolute exhaustion.

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630580/chapters/41354180