Blood of A Rose

Blood of A Rose - Guardian

Summary - A trip to the laundromat turns foul.

Notes - Sorry that this is a shorter one 😔 This was a request for Art to display his strength, but it took a darker turn than I intended 😅

Warning(s) - Sexual harassment/assault, graphic depictions of violence/gore

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(Y/n) and Art sat together on a bench in a nearby laundromat, the hum of the washers and dryers providing a steady rhythm in the background. Her legs were tossed over his lap as his fingers mindlessly tapped against them, her head leaning against the wall as she casually scrolled through her phone.

She came upon a 'top 10' video of the worst roller coaster accidents recorded and she gasped, showing Art her phone enthusiastically.

"Look at this one." She leaned in closer to him as he watched patiently.

He started to silently chuckle in the beginning, but it soon turned into full on laughter as they became more horrifying, slapping at her thigh in the process. (Y/n) began to laugh, herself. Though it was more so in adoration of his happiness than the content they were watching. 

She pulled back once the video was finished and Art shook a finger at her with a wide smile, laughter beginning to die down. He then decided to look at her phone with her, pointing at something every now and then that particularly intrigued him or if he wanted to ask about something which she would gladly answer.

Once their washer buzzed, signally the cycle had finished, she stood up to switch the clothes over into the dryer. Art stood up after her and patted her lower back, pointing towards the back area of the small building where the bathrooms were.

(Y/n) nodded and he blew her a kiss, turning around to head in that direction. Just as the bathroom door closed, the chime of the laundromat's entrance rang and a man walked through with his own bag of laundry. They locked eyes and (Y/n) quickly looked away, not wanting to draw his attention any further.

His footsteps drew closer, stopping not too far away from her and he put his clothes in the washer. She took a deep breath, seeing him face her out of the corner of her eyes as he leaned against the machines.

She then huffed and crossed her arms, turning towards him after the dryer started. "Can I help you?"

(Y/n) felt a chill run down her spine, hoping he would move along after her comment. But he didn't.

Without warning, he stepped closer, the smell of cheap cologne and sweat filling the space between them. His hand brushed her arm. (Y/n) tensed, stepping back, but there was nowhere to go. She was cornered between the row of washers and the wall.

The man slurred, his voice thick and suggestive. "You here all alone, babes?"

(Y/n) swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The man's hand reached out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. His grip was firm, too strong for her to break free from, and she could feel his breath on her neck as he pressed her against the cold metal of the washer.

"Don't be shy. I'm just trying to have a little fun. I'll be nice, I promise." he whispered, his free hand trailing down her side.

Panic surged through her as she stood frozen. (Y/n) squirmed, trying to push him away, but his grip only tightened as he pinned her against the machine, his hand beginning to grope her. Tears welled in her eyes, her mind racing. She felt helpless as the man's fingers dug into her skin.

"Art..." She choked out in a whisper. "Art?" (Y/n) spoke louder, the man growing confused. "Art!" She finally screeched, eyes squeezed shut as his nose brushed against her neck.

Suddenly, she heard the bathroom door swing open, banging against the wall behind it. (Y/n) barely registered it, her mind clouded by fear, but the man didn't notice either, too focused on the woman in front of him. All of a sudden, in a blur of movement, the pressure on her body vanished.

The man was ripped away from her and (Y/n) gasped for breath. She looked up, her vision blurry with tears, but she could make out the familiar black and white figure of Art, standing over the man like a shadow of death.

The man looked up at the clown before him, eyes wide with terror as he lay frozen on the floor. Art stepped closer, staring at him a moment longer with his teeth bared.

The smile he saved for his victims had long since disappeared. His teeth were now bared in pure, unadulterated fury as his shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breathing.

Art suddenly bent down and snatched up the man's shirt collar, dragging him effortlessly across the floor before launching him into another wall of machines, denting one in the process.

The impact drove the air out of the man's lungs and he coughed, fighting to catch his breath. When he noticed Art start towards him again, he groaned as he tried to crawl away. Two hands grabbed the fabric of his shirt on his back and he was lifted quicker than he could comprehend, then thrown across the floor a second time. His head took the majority of the impact, crashing against the wall behind him.

As much as the man tried to fight to move, it was useless after the second hit. Every move he made filled him with pain, no doubt bones broken as they stabbed at him through his attempts.

As much as he knew (Y/n) was traumatized, Art walked past her and dug through his bag as his rage continued to burn, deciding that getting rid of the threat was priority.

He pulled out a scalpel and scissors, slowly walking up to the pathetic figure that was curled up on the floor as he looked up at him, horrified. Art took his time, crouching down beside him as he grinned sadistically and snipped the scissors threateningly, making the man flinch.

"Please," he whimpered, "I didn't mean -" He tried. But Art never gave him the chance.

This time, (Y/n) watched.

She watched as the skin was peeled and stretched. As blood gushed, exposed muscle and fat molded and sliced through. As hair was pulled and torn off. Bones popping and snapping.

She couldn't look away. Not after what that man did to her. What he tried to do. Her stomach turned, a lump forming in her throat at the sound of it alone.

(Y/n) stood frozen, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She didn't have to say anything. Art already knew.

Once finished, his piercing green eyes flicked up to meet hers, at last checking to make sure she was okay. The moment they locked gazes, (Y/n) gave a small, shaky nod.

For a long moment, the laundromat was silent, save for the low rumble of the machines. (Y/n) stood where she was, her hands shaking as she tried to process what had just happened. Art stood and turned to her, his head tilting slightly as if to ask if she was alright.

Without thinking, she rushed towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace despite his bloodied form. His stiff posture relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

For all the darkness that lived in him, (Y/n) felt safe in his arms. He was her protector, her chaos, her partner in the macabre dance of life.

She didn't say anything, just simply took him in as comfort to ground herself. His grip tightened, and she knew that in his own way, he was telling her she would always be safe with him.