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thetimelesscycle · 3 years

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Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 3

A moppet in distress.

A/N: I have unexpectedly received three days off work (in a good way), so we are celebrating with an early chapter. Enjoy. :-)

Chapter 3

Keep Calm and Panic

The next time he awoke he was lying on his back, resting on something far softer than the stone floor. There was a pillow beneath his head and a thick blanket that had been tucked around his shoulders; He could feel the warmth against his skin even as his body shivered helplessly, caught in the sensation of ice lodged beneath his ribs. There was a weight on his chest, a comforting heaviness that vibrated slightly and eased the fierce ache that still lingered there, and a hand that rested sometimes against his forehead or trailed in idle patterns through his hair. He must have opened his eyes at some point — someone asked if he was awake — but he couldn’t see anything that made sense and let them drift closed again.

Snatches of conversation came to him, broken and disjointed, as if he were walking in and out of a room in the middle of a debate. It seemed like an argument, mostly; Two, sometimes three, voices bouncing one off the other. Other times it was softer, just one voice speaking to him as that gentle rumble rolled on and on.

Another sensation came and went. A touch that was not physical, warmth that briefly eased the ice in his veins before receding and taking that comfort with it. He both wanted it to stay and did not; Grateful for the gentleness but fearful of what lingered behind it.

He woke up. The rumble was gone and he was still cold. Quiet voices drifted back and forth somewhere not too distant from where he’d been placed. The pain had receded to something more manageable, though he still felt awful, his limbs leaden weights he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet. Not until he figured out what had happened.

His head was pounding like a drum, which didn’t exactly facilitate clear thinking. He tried anyway, uncomfortably aware of how wrong he felt in his own skin. It was like his own body didn’t quite fit him anymore; An inch short of his expectations, the bracelet on his wrist not the comforting weight it should have been, the magic at his fingertips a stronger force than he knew how to control. He felt stitched together, stiff in a way that had nothing to do with the physical, and underneath all of that was the overwhelming, irrational need to run.

Summoning his willpower in the place of any actual strength, he threw back the covers of what he belatedly realised was his master’s bed. That small act took nearly all the energy he had — he certainly wasn’t going to be running anywhere in the immediate future — but he did manage to lever himself upright, freezing when he caught sight of his reflection in the full length mirror on the opposite wall.

He’d never exactly been a picture of health; Pale and with ample bags under his eyes to speak of too many sleepless nights. Right now, there was no colour in his face at all. The slight roundness his cheeks had gained with the advent of regularly available meals was gone, the gauntness that replaced it making him look almost skeletal. The shadows under his eyes could have been bruises, though he had a feeling it would have hurt less if someone had actually punched him in the face. There was a strip of linen tied about his head, stained red where it rested against a wound he did not remember getting, and the tips of his hair appeared to have turned blue.

He touched the coloured edges just to be certain he wasn’t seeing things, the sight strangely familiar and yet utterly foreign, then grimaced at his reflection as his chest throbbed. He raised a hand to press against it as he struggled to remember why it hurt at all. He had a vague recollection of ice encasing his hands, pinning him in place as a glowing red stone was pressed to his chest, flooding him with furious, malevolent magic. He remembered pain, worse than anything he had felt in all his life, and then an awful wrenching sensation as a cooler, softer touch ripped him away from imminent death, leaving pieces behind as he was torn free.

None of it made sense. Not the memory, not the pain, and not the creeping sense that he wasn’t safe here. He couldn’t think clearly around the nonsensical thoughts bouncing back and forth within his skull. He stood up because he felt like he should, then wavered as the room revolted against its stationary existence. Gripping the wall for balance, he waited out the slow rotation of the floor beneath his feet, letting go only once his knees locked and his vision stopped swimming in sickening circles. He made it all of two steps and then lost his balance again, flailing wildly, taking an entire shelf of potions to the floor with him.

The crash was horrendous, and predictably cut whatever conversation was happening in the next room short. He heard and felt the approaching footsteps, blessedly numb to the pain of his own impact, and did nothing to escape them. It was habit that drove the slurred words he uttered when a hand gripped his shoulder and turned him over.

“S—sorry, Master. I’ll clean it up. I—”

“Hisirdoux, I could not care less about the state of my floor right now. Are you alright?”

He blinked stupidly, upright with Merlin’s hands gripping his shoulders, Archie hovering in fretful silence behind the Master Wizard.

“Uh...” That was definitely not intelligible. He raised a hand to touch his head, to try and order his thoughts. It came away damp, a fact that seemed inconsequential in the face of the unknown danger that was making his heart race and his wobbling legs itch to move. But Merlin had asked a question, and it was an answer, even if it was not the right one. “I think I’m bleeding again.”

Merlin made an odd noise in the back of his throat. Hisirdoux couldn’t tell if it was anger or frustration, and wasn’t given much time to think about it. The Master Wizard tugged him to his feet and set him on the edge of the bed before the room could start spinning again. Archie immediately settled in his lap, the familiar not even trying to hide the fact it was to keep him in place. He needn’t have bothered; Douxie wasn’t planning on getting up again any time soon.

It was still so hard to think, and he felt as if he was forgetting something. Something important. His attempts to grab at his skittish thoughts only made his head pound more fiercely, and he was pitching forward before he knew what direction that was, resting his burning forehead against the comfortable coolness of Merlin’s shoulder plates.

“Hisirdoux...”

For once, his master sounded more perturbed than irritated. Irrationally, that realisation had him swallowing around a lump in his throat, desperately trying to still the tremors overtaking him again. He couldn’t really hope to hide it; Merlin was holding him in place, Archie kneading quietly in his lap. He tried anyway.

“Hisirdoux, I need you to focus.” Merlin didn’t try to shift him, letting him stay where he was despite how awkward it must have made seeing to his injury. “I need to know what happened before Morgana found you. Did you go anywhere, touch anything, see anyone?”

“I’ve already told you,” Archie snapped irritably. “We were in your study all day, and I was in the room with him when he woke up. Nothing happened that would cause this!”

“And I’ve already told you that can’t be right. An injury like this doesn’t happen by accident. Someone caused this. You must have missed them.”

“My eyesight may be bad, but I can assure you I would have noticed someone attacking my own familiar!”

Torn black wings and frosted fur. His own voice cracking as grief blinded him for the bare second his adversaries needed to render him helpless.

“We told you you would die for this.”

Ice and fire

Red and blue.

“You should have run when you had the chance.”

Pain. Excruciating, inescapable pain.

He back-pedalled so fast he dislodged Archie right onto the floor, freezing when his back hit the wall and feeling his breath stutter in his chest as his eyes darted frantically about the room, trying to find the danger. It took a long time for the ringing in his ears to quiet enough for him to realise he was being spoken to; Longer still for the words to start making sense.

“Back with us, Hisirdoux?”

Merlin waited until his gaze focussed, then released the frantic dragon he’d been holding in check. Archie approached cautiously, pouncing when Douxie opened his arms in invitation. Holding his familiar close, he buried his face in Archie’s reassuring warmth. He didn’t make a sound when the first sob escaped him. He didn’t need to; Archie always knew.

“Oh, Douxie.”

He could feel Merlin’s weighted gaze on them, though the Master Wizard remained silent, giving them a few moments of precious peace. When he did speak it was with an awkward gentleness that was more rusted than Galahad’s old set of plate.

“You are safe here.” His teacher had made a similar promise, he recalled, that first terrifying night in a castle surrounded by Arthur’s knights. It hadn’t sounded any more reassuring back then. “The tower is warded against hostile magic, and Morgana and I have made sure no one but the three of us can safely get inside.”

“Four,”’Archie chipped in, only slightly muffled by Douxie unintentionally crushing him. “Merlin is right, Doux. No one is going to hurt you.”

“I—I don’t.” His breaths still didn’t seem large enough to fill his lungs, making it difficult to get the words out. “I don’t remember what... what happened.”

“At all?”

It could have been alarm or disbelief colouring Merlin’s words. He didn’t dare look to see, shaking his head by way of an answer. Merlin inhaled sharply, but kept his words calm when he spoke.

“Hisirdoux, I need to examine the wound again.”

Archie hissed at the intrusion. Douxie lifted his head just enough to peer at his master through his messy fringe, the shock of colour there distracting him momentarily before he refocused. Merlin took the fleeting eye contact as an invitation to continue.

“There is dark magic at work here. I need to make sure you aren’t getting any worse.” He offered his hand, movements as steady as ever, and uncharacteristically made another promise. “If it makes you feel better, you can watch what I’m doing. It won’t hurt.”

It had last time. He took Merlin’s hand anyway, forcing himself to sit a little straighter as he closed his eyes, becoming aware of the brush of his master’s magic against his own. The touch was careful, encasing him slowly, Merlin’s bright aura a stark contrast to his own paled, disrupted magic. He felt no danger, no ill intent, just the same gentle pull Merlin had used to guide him through countless other exercises. He found himself tensing regardless, breath catching in his throat as his master’s focus began to drag them both deeper.

“Easy...” Archie’s reassurance sounded right beside his ear. Unconsciously, he tightened his one-armed embrace around the small dragon. “You’re safe, Douxie. I’m not going to let anyone harm you.”

If only he’d been able to return that favour. If only his newfound confidence hadn’t been ripped out from under his feet so quickly he hadn’t had time to realise just how badly wrong things had gone until he was about to be wiped from the face of existence. Stray thoughts, and terrifying ones, because the memories attached to them continued to elude him with the determined agility of a feral gnome.

He would have to sit down and figure this all out later. Once Merlin was finished and he’d rested some more. For the time being, he followed in the Master Wizard’s metaphorical footsteps, slowly taking notice of the various physical sensations he had been doing his best to ignore.

He ached all over, though it had dulled somewhat since his awakening. There was a headache brewing behind his eyes that he supposed was to be expected after whatever hard surface he had introduced his skull to the first time. The knot in his chest was still there, winding itself tighter with every breath. Beneath all of that, beneath every pain vying for his attention, his magic was unsettled, stronger than he remembered it being even as it lay in latent disquiet; A calm lake awaiting the pebble that would shatter its serene face .

That pebble, as it turned out, was his first glimpse at the damage that had been done to him.

He was missing pieces.

He was missing pieces of himself.

What had been a strange sense of displacement was now a crystal clear realisation that he was not whole, dark shadows overtaking his spirit the way a troll’s flesh turned to stone in sunlight. He bolted upright in a surge of pure panic, fingers finding and grasping a vicelike hold of his master’s arms. His chest was hurting again, his lungs fighting for air as panic overtook him. Merlin’s hands closed about his forearms in a mirror of his own position, his master’s lips moving without sound.

The world faded out to a grey vista. For a dreadful few moments, that was all he could see. Sounds began to trickle back in first, his name being repeated over and over in forcefully calm tones that didn’t quite drown out the awful, wheezing noise that was his breathing. Colours followed, blurry and indistinct, slowly gaining clarity until he could look into Merlin’s eyes and see the vestiges of his own panic lingering there.

“That’s better,” Merlin spoke the moment Douxie made eye contact. “You need to stay calm.”

“Calm?” He shook his head, trembling, his magic sparking at his fingertips, seeking an enemy that didn’t exist. “I’m... there’s... What’s wrong with me?”

It came out as a cracked whisper. Merlin surprised him with the vehemence of his response. “Nothing is wrong with you,” he asserted firmly. “Someone did this, but there is no need to panic just yet. I am confident I can find a way to fix it.”

“What if you can’t?” He had to ask, even though he didn’t want to. “What if you can’t fix it? I’m...” Broken. He was broken. Cracked and incomplete. He couldn’t stop shaking; It was a wonder Merlin’s armour wasn’t rattling beneath his grip.

“Then we will find someone who can.” Merlin said it so matter-of-factly it was almost comforting. Archie’s determined rubbing against his side was more so, and he peeled his clenched fingers away from Merlin’s arms to attach them to Archie instead as the Master Wizard continued, “Are you in any pain?”

He answered automatically, “My chest hurts.”

Merlin frowned, bringing his glowing hand to hover over the affected area. Douxie caught himself shying away from the motion on instinct, his breath catching in his throat.

“I mean, it’s fine! I’m fine, no need to—”

“Hisirdoux.”

He cringed, though a strange corner of his mind railed against the reaction. Maybe his chest wasn’t the problem at all; It felt like his skull was trying to split in two.

“He knows what he’s doing, Douxie,”’Archie offered his own encouragement. “Probably.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Archibald.”

“You did set him off... twice.”

“That was the work of whatever nefarious hand caused this, not my doing.”

“I’m fairly certain your bumbling didn’t help.”

“Bumbling? You ungrateful—!”

Laughter bubbled up his throat like scalding acid and emerged as another cracked sob. The conversation cut off abruptly as he tried to muffle the sound behind his hand, before deciding he was too tired, sore, and confused to pretend he wasn’t terrified out of his wits right now. Archie immediately pressed himself closer, purring in that impossibly loud way he did when he was trying to drown out his familiar’s upset. Merlin was a lot slower, sitting frozen, then stiffly slipping an arm about his apprentice’s shoulders.

It wasn’t enough, and Douxie risked rejection to turn and tuck himself closer against his mentor’s side, ignoring the hard edges of the wizard’s armour as he clutched Archie in his arms. Merlin exhaled softly, then brought his other hand up to pat Douxie awkwardly between the shoulder blades.

The warmth of his magic withdrew with the physical touch.

Douxie was still cold.

Headcanon A/N: I am a subscriber to the belief that Douxie's hair colour is due to his magic, particularly as certain scenes where the light shines off the darker parts there is a blue tint to what otherwise appears to be black. (Fanfiction research, everyone. XD)

#hisirdoux casperan #archie toa #merlin toa #tales of arcadia #wizards toa #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst

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rustic-nova-blog · 5 years

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Unknown | Thomas Hewitt x reader | 1

Hey Guys!!!!! I’m actually writing crap and totally not wasting time making shitty mood boards to go with it :D

This is a Leather face x reader fanfic that's a little different than normal I guess. Like Luda Mae gives the reader a name eventually because reader can't remember hers.

Warnings: Violence, death (duh), and probably some ooc stuff but oh well...

A lot of it's under the cut. let me know what you think :}

You don't even have to open your eyes to know that something was wrong, even doing so didn't help. You couldn't remember… anything. Your name, where you were, who you were with, nothing.

The only thing you could gather from the current situation was that you were in the floor of what looked like a pickup truck, with dirt on the floorboards and two men sitting in the seats above you.

When you tried moving the one on the passenger side landed a rough kick to your side, stilling you and making you cry out in pain. But the sound was muffled by the tape covering your mouth. It was just an automatic response that you’d reached up to feel it but that earned you another kick to the side. The man cursing at you to sit still and shut up.

You, not wanting to get kicked again obeyed, taking note that your hands were tied too with a rough rope that itched and irritated your skin.

You were thirsty and hot while you lay there trying your damndest to remember what in the fuck was going on. You thought so hard that your head started hurting and each bump in the road only made it worse.

You tried to clear your mind and focus but all that did was make you fully aware of the amount of pain you were in. Aside from the headache, and definite bruises on your side your palms hurt so did your feet. Your cheek burnt and stung like none other but you didn't dare lift your hand again to try and feel the damage. You were betting you already had a couple of bruised ribs and didn't want any broken ones.

There was no point in trying to remember the faces of the two men in the truck with you, you simply didn't know who they were. Older maybe late 40’s, gruff, dusty and dirty. They smoked cigarettes and didn't talk much. When they did you didn't really get the context of the conversations anyway. The words they said were never about you, there was nothing to gain from listening to them.

You tried to drift back off again, the sweltering heat of the air and sweat stinging your eyes urging you along but before you could manage you got another kick this time to the stomach and it nearly made you throw up.

“Oh shut up, were coming up on a gas station, you're gonna go in and ask for the bathroom. see if anyone besides the cashier is there, see if there are any back doors, then come back and tell us what you find. Got it?” The driver ordered gravely you just nodded and you were drug up into the middle seat between them while the passenger ripped the tape off of your face and cut the rope around your wrists.

“If you don't do what we say you’ll end up with a bullet between your eyes just like the person behind the counter.” The driver said casually like he was talking about the weather or giving directions. You just nodded rubbing your wrists as the passenger bent down and cut the rope around your ankles, you’d been so out of it and confused you hadn't noticed it before but it felt good to get out of.

The truck pulled into the station as they said and looking around as you were pushed out of the truck over the lap of the passenger gave you no more information than you had before. Unless you counted that this place sold bar-b-que as some kind of valuable knowledge to go off of, and you didn't.

All you knew was that it was hot out, and the breeze did little to help anything but threaten to blow dust in your eyes. The concrete was hot on your feet the dust and dirt on the ground did nothing but make it feel like you were rubbing salt on wounds you didn't know about on the bottom of your soles.

The cool dark air of the inside of the station was nice, and so was the smooth, cool floor on your feet. You looked around the small place a glass counter revealed cuts of cooked meat with dark red sauce slathered on top. That combined with the racks of chips and snacks along with the buzzing drink coolers along the wall made your stomach twist with hunger again.

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter asked getting your attention. She was older with mousy grey hair that was tied in a loose bun on the top of her head, the realization made you wonder what your hair looked like and absent-mindedly you reached up to touch the tangled mess only to pull your hands away in pain to see your fingers looked like you’d pulled a pan from the oven with no mits on. All burnt and shiny with new scabs and angry red skin around them.

“Are you alright?” The woman asked again confusion etched in both her voice and face as she pulled your attention away from your hands. You were going to flounder, you could feel it the confusion of everything on top of the stairs from the men in the truck that you could feel burning holes in the back of your skull made you nervous and you didn't know what options you had to weigh.

“B-bathroom?” Your voice was nothing more than a horse squeak and it hurt to speak because of how dry your throat felt. “It's in the back.” She said standing up from her stool and walking to lead you behind the counter. “Anyone else here?” You asked in the same tone and it hurt to speak at all but you had to.

At that the woman turned and looked at you, you were glad that you were out of sight from the truck outside because something like that might make them come in and do what they’d threatened to do before.

“My Sons on his way why?” The woman asked suspiciously narrowing her eyes at you and you caved under the pressure but also under the delusion that maybe your situation could be helped. “The men in the truck outside told me to come in and see if you were alone, to look for a back door. Told me that if I didn't they’d kill me too.” You said shakily as your lip quivered for what you didn't know.

The woman looked at you with raised brows, tilting her head to the side in confusion as if she was trying to figure something out. “If you’re with them why are you tellin’ me this?” She asked almost like she was accusing you of betrayal and that made you nervous to the point that you started shaking and shuddering when you explained that you weren't with them of your own free will. Showing her your palms and telling her about how you’d been tied up in the floorboard of their truck until about 3 minutes before you walked in.

She stood there in the dark hallway the two of you stood in with her hands on her hips like she was trying to decide whether or not to believe what you were saying and she didn't take long before nodding in understanding or agreement, you didn't quite get which.

“Well go on and tell ‘em that my sons in the back and that the only way in or out is through the front door.” She said motioning you back towards the front of the store. “Some one’ll be after you before too long.” She added right before you exited the building. You had to hold back the feeling of hope that washed over you at that moment, and it was difficult.

You went back to the truck where the passenger was waiting on you smoking a cigarette and leaning on the open door that you didn't wait for instructions before climbing into and taking a seat in the middle spot.

“Well?” The driver asked harshly. “The lady said her sons in the back.” You said quietly not looking up at him and not having to before the other one got into the truck slamming the door behind himself and punching you right back to unconsciousness.

This time when you woke up you couldn't move at all. The sound of a fight was what ripped you back into reality. You were in the floorboard again taped up so tight that you couldn't crawl towards the open truck doors that screamed freedom and violence as you heard the men shouting from outside.

You didn't have much time to struggle before another person you didn't know appeared in your line of vision. A police officer, with a badge and everything, stood there looking at you as you tried to blink the dust out of your eyes enough to focus.

You were lifted from the car not too gently and he let you fall like a rock on the asphalt. Your shoulder taking most of the impact while you did all you could to avoid landing on your face.

“Well momma said you were in a bind.” the officer scoffed kneeling next to you and tugging at the duct tape that held your arms behind your body.

You saw past his shined shoes and caught sight of the two men from before on the ground blood pooling around their lifeless forms. You couldn't bring yourself to feel bad for them, by all accounts the cop did you a huge favor. And he did more by cutting the tape off of your wrists and ankles and pulling you roughly to your feet by the collar of the oversized shirt you had on.

“Now help me get them in the trunk.” The officer said casually leading you over to the men. You didn't know if they were dead or not and you didn't give a shit, to be honest.

You did as you were told and helped lift the men into the trunk, there wasn't much you could do to avoid the blood that was now smeared all over your arms and front. You hated the sandpaper feeling you got from trying to wipe off your hands the scabs catching on the shirt and feeling like your skin was gonna rip off by something so light-handed.

You sat in the passenger seat up front next to the officer which caught you as odd, I mean the fact that those other guys were now stuffed into the trunk and more than likely dead were red flags too but that didn't pose as awkward as sitting in the front seat of a cop car did.

You sat in silence for a while as he drove speaking on his radio to someone about picking up the truck you’d been held captive in but it was in the back of your mind as you took in the scene from out the window there were fields of some kind of crop on both sides of you, little groups of trees every now and then the grass on each side of the road was pretty overgrown and there wasn't a street sign in sight. Nothing about what was going on around you that indicated any idea as to where you were.

Not that it mattered, you didn't know where you were supposed to be so why would it make a difference if you knew where you were right?

Still, that bit of knowledge would have been nice to have, you didn't have the voice to ask for it at the moment though.

“What's your name girl?” The officer asked lighting up a cigar. “I don't know, sir.” You answered as honestly as possible despite the raised brow he was throwing in your direction. But he continued asking more things you didn't know the answer to. How old you were, where were you from, when was your birthday, does anyone else know where you are, is anyone looking for you? He seemed to be getting frustrated at the fact that you kept repeating “I don't know, sir.” over and over to each of his questions.

“What are you retarded or somethin’? Can't say anything besides you don't know?” He snapped his sudden tone change making you jump and offending you all at once.

“No, I’m not- I just don't remember anything.” You answered quietly. “You don't remember? What in the hell d’ya mean you can't remember?!” He hissed nearly making you shit your pants by taking a turn onto a dirt road that you hadn't even seen because of the tall grass.

“I don't know I just- woke up and then the gas station and… now. I don't know nothin!” You said gripping the seat belt that was across the front of your chest (because fucking safety matters).

He scoffed disbelievingly at your words before looking ahead and you followed suit deciding it was best to not press a conversation, not that you’d have much to say in one anyway. You saw a large farmhouse that sat behind a large bunch of trees and would have been hidden from the main road by them, there was a large barn in the back and maybe another shed or smaller building that you couldn't make out a little past that. The fields on either side of the house that wasn't forest were fields of what looked like wheat still green and about waist high.

What caught your eye was the woman who stood on the porch though, as the car got closer you could tell it was the woman from the gas station, the one you’d warned about the men who were now in the trunk of the car you rode in.

You sat in the seat as the car parked in front of the house, unsure of what to do as the woman waved at you and motioned you towards her. The officer sighed deeply like he was tired and opened his door. “Don't keep Momma waitin', she's the only reason you’re not in the trunk with the other two.” He said lowly and you got the point.

Your feet hurt walking on the gravel and you’d hoped that the grass would help but it didn't, not really.

“Come on, inside dear. We’ll get you somethin’ to drink. You look parched.” She said sweetly as she motioned you to follow her.

You were lead threw the house that was much darker than the bright unrelenting sun outside. But it was cooler and the wood was nice and soothing on your feet. You noticed the ‘interesting’ choice in decore that used bones and hides more than anything else but you counted that up to them just being avid hunters. It let you know that these weren't the type of people to let anything go to waste.

She pulled a chair out at the table and patted the back for you to sit, of course, you did. The bottoms of your feet ached at this point. She busied herself with making a couple of glasses of iced tea. In seconds you were chugging the sweetest tea you think you’d ever tasted it almost hurt it was so cold but it was good.

“Slow down honey, you’ll drown.” The woman chuckled sitting at the table too. “I thank you, dear, for the help at the station, I’m the only one left to take care of my boys. They wouldn't last a week without me I don't think.” even though she scoffed she sounded sincere.

You just nodded in acknowledgment of the thanks, not knowing what else to say about it. “What's your name?” She asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh, she don’t know.” The officer called from somewhere else in the house before walking into the kitchen his hands in his belt loops and looking at you accusingly.

“Oh, you poor thing!” She exclaimed a little over exaggeratedly. “I know you said somehtin’ about not remembering much at the station but you can't even remember your own name?!” She sympathized. You shake your head side to side really wanting to ask for more tea but staying quiet about it.

“You must be hungry, here let me whip you up something real quick.” She said standing up.

“Come on now Momma are you seriously thinkin’ about keeping her?!” The officer asked like you were nothing but a stray dog that had wandered up to the house. “She’s staying with us as long as she wants to.” the woman said in a tone that said the conversation was over and the officer rolled his eyes behind her back before huffing over to a door that looked like it might have been a closet or pantry.

When he opened it you could see that it was, in fact, a set of stairs that lead downwards to what must be the basement. “TOMMY, GET YOUR DUMB ASS UP HERE AND HELP WITH THESE PIGS!” He shouted so loud that it made you jump in your seat. He must have seen because he just smirked at you meanly and walked out the way he came in.

Less than a minute later you heard heavy footsteps from the basement door and a giant of a man walked out of it. That's about all you could tell about him, his dark hair was wild and his face below his eyes was covered with some kind of mask. You were surprised he was able to fit through the door even slouching over. He didn't even take notice of you and just seemed to follow the officer back out the front of the house.

“Don't mind Tommy, he's my youngest, sweet boy but he doesn't talk much.” The woman said as she set a plate down in front of you with a decadent Coldcut sandwich sitting on it that made your stomach growl just looking at it.

“I’m Luda Mae, but the boys just call me Momma, you’re more than welcome to too.” She said kindly. She just watched you as you scarfed the sandwich down as fast as you could. You wondered how long it had been since you’d eaten before but there was no way to tell.

You paused though when Ludas hand brushed or attempted to brush threw your hair. It was dirty and matted with tangles her hands didn't get thru very far but she was careful it felt like about tugging at it to get her fingers uncaught.

“I always wanted a little girl.” She cooed lovingly and you liked it for some reason her words made you so happy. You didn't get it, not that you had the chance to.

The calm of the house was broken by shouts and loud crashing sounds before one of the men from the truck half threw himself into the kitchen floor making you and Luda shriek in surprise both of you stood up and away from the table that he was hurrying towards.

“You bitch!” He screamed as you moved to Ludas's side. “THOMAS, HOYT! ONE GOT INSIDE!” Luda screamed pushing you back towards the counter. The officer stormed in and in a single shot of his shotgun, the man slumped dead on the floor. “Damn it!” Hoyt hissed kicking the dead body.

“TOMMY GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, I GOT EM!” He called threw the house.

You didn't realize that you had your hands wrapped around Ludas arm until she turned to make sure you were ok. You released her and nodded, you were just surprised and relieved that he was definitely dead.

Thomas walked into the kitchen with the man who was in the passenger seat thrown over his shoulder like it was nothing. You noticed how big his hands were when he reached down and grabbed the intruder's leg before hoisting him over his incredibly broad shoulder like the other one.

This time though he did seem to realize you were there. At least you thought he did, he made eye contact with you as brief as it was enough for you to see how angry he was, at what you didn't know. As soon as he saw you the anger flipped to confusion and then he turned to the basement like nothing happened at all.

“Come on dear let's get you washed up, I have a few dresses that might fit you,” Luda said patting your back comfortingly.

#texas chainsaw #Thomas Hewitt #leatherface #leatherface x reader #leatherface x oc #reader has amnesia #hoyt being an asshole #momma Luda Mae #tw death #slasher #slasher x reader

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