Eva's New Hermitcraft and Dream SMP Oneshots

Stockholm Syndrome - Rated R

This was on a different book but I'm organizing my page for when I'm officially logging out and moved this here. I wanted to make sure this stayed since it is one of my favorites.

Eh- I'm giving this a R rating so highly advised to be 18+ but I'm not gonna stop anyone. It's not really for the Many May either since it's not for the prompt. It just fits into the book as it is Grian and Dream focused.

MAJOR TW!!

MAJOR TW!!

MAJOR TW!!!

Don't forget: Rated R

If you're sensitive, maybe don't even read the warnings? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've been wanting to write this stuff and now that I have a separate book from my main with a focus on two angsty people I'm doing it.

TW: manipulation, death/murder, non-consensual actions,  depression, panic attacks, stress positioning, torture, blood, major injuries, suicide, self-harm, chains/rope, kidnapping, mentions of torture – if I've missed any let me know

Just knowing where I want to go with this is making me nervous.

Inhale.

Hits repeat on my torture playlist.

Exhale.

Babydoll by Dominic Fike starts playing - would recommend

Let's go...

Grian POV-

Blood dripped down my face as I slouched against the cold wall. It was the most comfortable position, even with the enflamed wounds on my back making each breath weak and shaky. A strange numbing had filtered into my brain over the last few weeks... months... years...

I had no way to tell time in this blood-stained room that I had begun to call home.

How one could call a place like this home, I had no idea. At least he never hurt me here. I was safe here.

I knew I was gone. Deep down, I knew that I was no longer Grian. He made sure I knew that as he claimed me as his, the scars a never ended reminder.

But those days when he didn't hit me. Those were the worst.

I closed my eyes as the blood dripped into them and in to my mouth, the taste of iron barely making me gag anymore. Not like I had anything in my stomach.

The stark lights of the white room still tortured my sore eyes as I licked the blood lightly off my swollen lips. It was the one good thing in this place. I was his. He made sure I would never forget that, but I was still his.

I could hardly remember anything from before I became his. Faces and names floated across my half-conscious mind, yet one always stood out over the others. Mumbo.

I knew I had some sort of relationship with him, but it could be nothing like being his.

A jangle on the handle in front of me caught my attention and I immediately shoved myself from the wall, blood pouring in my mouth as I bit back a harsh whine of pain. I could feel each scar on my swollen back break open, warm liquid trickling down my back, mixing with the blood on my legs and the ground.

I inhaled once, before pushing my face to the floor, my butt in the air in a bowing like submission position he had taught me. It put a nasty strain on the skin, and therefore injuries, on my back and knees, but it was better than the positions he would mostly likely strap me into if I wasn't like this the moment he walked in.