Like Son, Like Mother
Danny was doing homework at the kitchen table with Jazz when he heard it. A bang, a clatter, and his father’s shout of “Maddie!”
This was not all together that unusual. But for some reason, both him and Jazz looked up from their books to glance at the basement door.
Jazz /never looked up anymore.
The silence seemed to echo.
Jazz skated her eyes over to meet his, raising a confused eyebrow. Danny shrugged in response.She shrugged back. Which was.. really not helpful honestly.
Well, only one way to find out.
Danny pushed back his chair with loud scrape and walked over to the door. He opened it and shouted down, “Dad?? Everything okay??”
There was another clatter.
“Sure is, Danno!” There was a slight waver of uncertainty to his Dad’s voice.
Danny furrowed his eyebrows, taking a step down, then another. “You sure?? Jazz and I heard a pretty loud bang and-“
Danny stopped at the bottom of the stairs, one foot still hovering, “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Jack smiled at him from where he stood in front of Maddie, “Sure as a bear, kiddo!”
Danny leaned forward, trying to peer around Jack’s form, “Mom?
Maddy hesitated but answered, “Yes honey?”
“You’re sure you’re alright?”
There was a moment of pause and then Maddie leaned out from behind her husband, goggles and suit hood on, “We’re fine sweetie, don’t worry about us.” She smiled comfortingly at him.
Danny glanced between the two of them again, before slowly starting to turn around, “Alright, if you’re sure..uh.. Have fun, I guess.” Then he turned fully up the stairs and went up the hallway. They caught a snippet of him telling Jazz it was okay before the basement door closed once more.
Jack’s shoulders drooped with a whoosh of breath and he turned back to Maddie, eyes filled with worry.
“Mads?”
Maddie tried to smile back at him, pulling back her hood and goggles with one hand.
“Don’t worry, snookums, we’ll fix this,” Maddie said, patting Jack’s shoulder.
She looked down at her other hand.
Her other hand stuck halfway through the metal of their lab table.
She sighed, a few strands of pale hair falling in her eyes as she did so.
“Somehow.”
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The Grey Zone 5
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)
Character: Lloyd Hansen
Note: Oh my mustachioed man!
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Lloyd pulls in at the last rest stop before you officially enter the true desolation of the northern wilds. You open your door before he can even turn off the engine, unable to hold back the spew of sickness. You spit onto the tarmac as the sun sets darkly above. You grip the door and flinch as Lloyd reaches over to rub your back.
"You okay, baby cakes?" He asks as you press the back of your hand to your mouth and sit back, trapping his hand against the seat.
"Yeah, I just get car sick, like I said," you're almost breathless as the bile sears in your throat, "I should go rinse my mouth out."
"Need help?" He asks and you send him a confounded look. He winks as you struggle to decipher his meaning.
"No," you unbuckle your seat belt and grab your little leather knapsack.
"I guess you're not in the mood for any snacks?" He says as he climbs out on his side, mirror you as you shut your door.
"No, I'm good," you cough.
You walk in stride with him, trying to keep ahead as you're paranoid about your breath and any possible dribble from your vomit. He reaches past you to open the door and holds it open. You flit in and search for the bathroom sign, leaving him behind as the taste of your sickness dries on your tongue.
You hurry down the hall and push into the ladies. You crank on the sink and bend over to rinse your mouth out. You dry off, wiping away much of your black lipstick.
You fish a mint out of your bag and reapply the tint to your lips, checking your reflection one last time. You go into one of the stalls, just to be sure and wash your hands before venturing out into the store.
As you come out. Lloyd stands by the magazine shelf, browsing without intent. He glances over at you and smirks, his hands full.
"Got ya... ginger ale," he holds up the green bottle, "and some anti-nausea stuff." He shakes the box of tablets.
"Oh, you didn't have to..."
"I saw it, so... whatever," he hands over the items, "paid and good to go, unless you need anything else."
"All good," you muster a smile.
"You just relax, sweetheart," he waves you towards the door, "we're looking at making midnight if we're lucky. You rest up... you'll need your energy for your vacation."
"Thanks," you mutter. You don't plan on relaxing, you have textbooks and more than enough homework.
"Let me get this," he opens the door for you again.
You step through and he follows closely, just grazing the loose fabric of your pants. You feel a tug but don't think much of it right as he passes you and hits the unlock button on his keys. You near the car and drop into the passenger seat with your goodies.
You crack the seal on the ginger ale, the mint tainting the flavor. You open the box of pills and break one free of the insert. You swallow it with another swig of soda and put the bottle in the cupholder, tucking away the pills in your bag before shoving it between your feet. You lean back and buckle up.
Lloyd turns the engine and flips the stereo on again. You're tired already. You're glad he's taken on most of the driving, aside from his lead foot.
"That's it, you just chill," he reaches over and claps his hand on your thigh, "we'll be home before we know it."
"Home?" You wonder.
"Home away from home," he shrugs and pulls his hand back to the wheel and shifts into gear. "don't worry about it, babe. I got you."
You don't respond. You're not really sure how to and you're stomach is still gurgly. You just want the meds to kick in so you can close your eyes without getting dizzy.
"Alright, back on the road," he steers around the lot, following another car towards the ramp, "huh," he snorts as he speeds up.
"What?"
"Nah, just thinking... feels like... a movie," he muses as he sits back, keeping one hand nonchalantly on the wheel even as the speedometer ticks up, "like we're going away on a honeymoon. Some ridiculous romcom... or maybe a horror movie. You seem partial to the latter."
"I guess. That's a stereotype though. I'm not really a horror person."
"No?" He sniffs, "my bad. I saw that Poe collection on your shelf, so I assumed--"
"I like to read, not so much into seeing gore," you shrug.
"Fair," he replies, "surprising..."
"Why's it surprising?"
"I didn't take you as squeamish with the whole..." he points to his nose, "ring thing."
You reach up to touch your septum.
"Oh, I couldn't really see them doing it," you say.
"Not that I don't like it," he assures you, "it's a look."
You furrow your brow and nearly laugh. Is he trying to sound young and hip or something? At least he's not like your mother, lecturing you on mutilating your body.
"You got any ink? Tattoo or something?" He asks, "something mommy and daddy don't know about?"
"Um, no," you say, "it's... expensive."
"Oh, do I ever know," he clucks.
"You have a tattoo?"
"Sure do," he pats his chest, "I'll give you a look once we get where we're going. It's nothing hardcore. Mostly a college mistake."
"Ah, makes sense."
"What else is college for?" He winks at you in the rearview, "making memories."
"Sure," you agree and yawn into your hand.
"I'll shut up now," he scoffs, "you rest that pretty head."
You look at him, hesitating before letting yourself relax against the seat. You cross your arms and lean into the door, closing your eyes to keep from glancing out the window. He must have got the drowsy stuff, your head is swimming.
🖤
Soon the motion of the car turns from alarming to soothing. You let yourself sink into the anti-nauseant laced drowse itching on your eyelids. You blink, slower and slower, as you succumb to the dark sky and your induced exhaustion. You drift into semi-consciousness, the engine still whirring in your ears.
The hours slip by like seconds and you wake much before your ready too. Not quite all the way as your head wobbles and your body feels buried in sand. You drag your hand across your face clumsily as the car slows and you hear the chirping of crickets. You grumble, batting your lashes before letting them close again. You nestle into the door, reaching for sleep once more.
A soft rumble, like a chuckle, rises as the engine quiets completely. You feel a shift and hear the driver's side door. You can't tell if it's real or you're dreaming. Not until your own door opens and your seatbelt barely keeps you from falling out of the car.
Lloyd nudges you back and snickers again, "ah, look at you, sleepy girl."
He bends over you, his fingertips fluttering over your stomach as he reaches to undo your seatbelt. You moan as you struggle to keep your eyes open. His shadow blocks the moonlight as your tongue sticks dryly to the roof of your mouth. You feel... more tired than you should.
"Let's get you to bed, huh? Look at you," he lets his hand wander down your thigh, "fuck, you're so warm." He tickles you through the fabric of your pants and you shiver, "and it's damn chilly, isn't it?"
He pushes his hands between your thighs and you gasp. You reach for him and he bats your hand away easily. He cups your cunt through your pants and you squirm. He puts his other arms below your chest, pinning you to the seat.
"Wha..." you babble.
"Shhhh, it's alright, babe," he purrs as he bends, pulling his hand down your thigh as he parts them wide, dipping his head into your lap. "Mmmm, you smell delicious."
He buries his face in your pelvis and takes a deep breath before exhaling hotly into you. You whimper and push on his head. He chuckles and pulls his head back. He raises the hand he had cupped against you and sniffs that too.
"The way I'm gonna taste you and find out it you're just as good as you smell," he stands and hooks his arms under yours, lifting you out of the seat, "and you're gonna be begging me for it."
"What are you talking..."
"It's okay, honeybee, you're fucking out of it," he snaps shut the passenger door, keeping you against him, "if I wanted to, I could fuck you in the dirt right now but that's no fun."
"Huh?" You lean against him, your feet unsteady in your platform boots.
"My dicks been hard since we got in the car, you're lucky I don't test your throat out," he guides you along the pebbles and twigs, a large structure looming limned in moonlight.
"Mr. Hansen?" You eke out.
"Relax, I'm gonna put you to bed, nice and cozy. Cozier on my dick but we'll save that," he teases as his hand creeps down to squeeze your ass, "you got some of those rings in your nips too? Kinky shit."
You shake your head, stumbling with him up the wooden steps of the cabin. The place is dark and you didn't notice if your dad's SUV was there yet. They must have got there by then.
Lloyd angles you through the front door and moves seamlessly through the dark. His strength is unsettling, knowing he could do anything and you couldn't fight him off. Even if you weren't groggy.
"Come on, princess," he hums as he takes you up the stairs, each step creaking.
"Please," you beg, "why..."
"Shhh," he hushes you as he gets you to the top.
Your panic pulses and you try to shove away from him. He lets you and you go crashing into some unseen shape and bounce onto the floor. The noise of your tumble is deafening. Lloyd cackles and you hear something else. Suddenly, footsteps barreling but uneven, a door opens further down.
"What the fuck is going on?" Your mother snarls drunkenly.
"Nothing, Connie," he calls through a chortle, "girl's just a bit hopped up."
"Hopped up?!" She shrieks and you hear her struggling before she emerges, shining a light at you from the flash of her cell phone, "what?!"
"Calm down, she had some dramamine," he scoffs, "she doesn't have the same tolerance as you, Con."
"Oh, shut up," she huffs and turns back, casting the light away from both of you, "keep it down, some of us are trying to sleep."
"Pleasant as ever," he mutters as he slides his arms under you and lifts you. You touch your forehead, dizzied as he cradles you against his chest. He walks down the hall and stops to push open a door with his foot. He stands in the frame and clucks, "just like a honeymoon, huh? Me carrying you over the threshold." He enters and moves carefully through the dark as it thickens, "but we'll save the fun stuff for now."
He puts you on the bed and you grumble. He hovers over you, his hand trails down your body. You shiver and he presses his lips to your forehead and growls, "I can wait…"
He pushes away and stands straight, lurking as you feel him staring down at you. You hug yourself and roll onto your side, weak and disoriented. He takes in an audible breath and lets it out.
"I'm not even gonna jerk off, as much as my balls are swinging like barbells," he taunts as he leans back on his heels, "I'm saving it all up for you, baby." He clicks his tongue in his cheek, "I'm even gonna be a gentleman and bring your stuff in. Don't worry, you can be naughty for me."
You don't say a word as you close your eyes, hoping to shut out this twisted reality. You hear him retreat, slow deliberate steps that stoke your nerves. He's letting you be for now, but it won't be forever. And now you know exactly what he wants…
🖤
The morning greets you with the sight of an unfamiliar room. Your memory doesn’t rush back but trickles in. A patchwork begins to form in your mind; your father sending you off with Lloyd, his herky jerky driving, the rest stop, and the wobbly scenes that came after.
You remember a conversation but not every word. Only enough to set you on edge. You sit up sharply as the words etch in your mind; ‘don’t worry, you can be naughty for me’. You want to shrug it off as a figment of your own imagination but it’s all too real in your mind.
You look around at the bedroom. Hardwood side for the walls and similarly coloured slats across the floor. The bed frame is elaborate, hand-carved with ornate knobs at the top of each post. There’s a quilty haphazardly pulled over you, gathering at your waist as you hold yourself with palms flat to the mattress.
Your duffle is in the plaid armchair set in the corner. It’s empty. You shake your head, clearing out the last of the cobwebs. Despite the nausea meds and a night of almost lifeless sleep, you wake swiftly. You feel eerily alert of every detail.
You get up and near the tan dresser, your reflection appearing in the circle mirror perched above. Your eye makeup is smeared and your lipstick only left at the edges of your lips. You’re a mess.
Your hat hangs on the one of the posts that holds up the mirror and your knapsack from the other. You rest your hands on the thin metal handles and slide the top drawer open slowly. You look down as the wood grinds loudly.
Your underwear is neatly folded to one side but you didn’t pack enough to fill the whole drawer. At the other side, there’s something else, something unfamiliar. You touch the lacy fabric and hook your fingers through the slender straps.
You pull it out of the drawer and let it hang down to the floor. It’s a full body suit, lace in the pattern of spiderwebs, with no lining. It wouldn’t hide much at all. You look up and see yourself positioned behind it, as if you’re trying to see what it would look like on.
You lower the garment and clear your throat. Last night wasn’t a dream, you’re lucky it was a nightmare. You quickly tuck the lacy bodysuit back into the drawer and close it.
What do you do? Do you tell your parents? You don’t imagine your mother would believe you, if she even listened. She’s already into the wine. And your father, Lloyd is his friend. He’d probably shrug it off as one of his jokes.
You back up and turn to the rest of the room. You hear the birds chirping, trees swaying, and the soft breeze flowing in through the slightly open window. You cross to the pane and look out at the deep cluster of trees that stretches for miles. It’s all the more obvious then that you’ve walked straight into his trap.
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