Antisepticeye Oneshots

A Fighting Chance

Premise: JJ refuses to give in to the static after being Anti's puppet once before. Anti is tired of him struggling and resorts to using duct tape to restrain him.
Warning(s): Creepy touch, cuts
Word Count: 1451

"Quit—mo̧vi͠n̴g—!" Anti snarled, both hands clamped around JJ's flailing arms.

The smaller man was sprawled on the ground with his back pressed up against the wall. He kicked and twisted his legs but it was all in vain as they were trapped underneath the weight of his attacker. He pushed against the force of Anti's arms, attempting to get some space between them so he could possibly escape from his hold. Anti fought with animosity; all he wanted was to beat his prey into submission. He fought back with determination; he would not give in for as long as he was alive.

Anti grunted and forced JJ's arms upward toward the wall above his head. In this position, he could not move his arms nor his legs. Anti used this chance to hold both his wrists in one hand while the other curled around his throat, blocking his airway. "Oh, you pathetic waste of space. Give up already!"

JJ wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. And he was very steadily becoming more panicked as he realized he could not breathe. The lack of air signalled red in his mind and his body tensed up involuntarily. He grabbed the hand around his throat, scratching, trying to pry it off of him and failing. He needed air. Oh, he needed it more than anything else in the world.

The edges of his vision darkened and everything became a blur. He was going to pass out. Then, right before everything went black, the pressure around his throat lifted and his lungs filled with oxygen from the reprieve. He coughed, killing his throat from the exertion. He made gasping noises between the brief moments where his body gave him the chance to inhale.

The relief lasted for too short of a time, though. His head was forced up and pain struck through the back of his skull. Not just once. Again. And again. And again. By the fifth time, his ears were filled with a ringing sound and the world before him spun him into a state of nausea.

He felt himself fall to floor, but then nothing. In the middle of this oblivion, a familiar sensation bedevilled his body and mind. It dug into his soul while he was weakened—the disgusting euphoric feeling that came with whatever demonic power Anti had control of. Even when he opened his unfocused eyes, it still chased him from the darkness, begging for him to give in, so he focused on the pain in his head in an attempt to block out the feeling.

He was taken out of that state when he was jerked upward by his hair. He blinked several times to focus his eyes. The unclear figure of Anti sat in front of him. He never even realized he'd left. He saw that he was holding something. The grey object made a ripping sound as he pulled it, like the sound of tape. Duct tape.

"Hold still," He grabbed both of JJ's wrists and held them together as he began wrapping the duct tape around them.

JJ tried to pull away, but his body was too weak to fight against Anti's grip. He turned his head to look around, but the movement made him want to vomit. Silent whimpers came from him as Anti fastened the tape to his wrists, around and around. Too tight. He thought it would never stop. Anti was not at all sympathetic. He tore the strip of tape from the roll with his teeth and secured the last part down. JJ's arms ached when he was finally done.

Anti himself was making short, growled breaths, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. JJ had no idea what Anti was going to do, and he was terrified. Anti's heavy breaths stopped for a moment as he swallowed, then began to speak, setting the roll of tape down beside him. "Now," he said and reached behind his back. His hand came back with a clean kitchen knife. "You can be a good little boy and cooperate, or I can use the rest of that roll to keep you from squirming. Which will it be?"

JJ's chest was tight just as his hands were tight against his body, clasped together. His socks slipped on the floor as he tried pushing himself away from Anti, despite already being against a wall. When nothing worked, he felt tears form in his eyes and he had blink to keep them from falling. He was terrified. He was terrified, and yet the feeling inside him threatened to tear that fear out of his body. He nearly wanted to accept it. Terrified, and yet he was still not going to. He had done that once before and it was the worst mistake he had ever made.

Knowing he was not going to win this, he kicked Anti as hard as he could and turned to set his restrained hands on the ground, using it as support to get up.

But Anti recovered quickly. The moment JJ got his feet on the ground, his body collided with the wall. The ringing came back, louder than before. He couldn't remember what happened next, but his back to was to the floor and his hands were trapped above his head once again. Anti had his legs around his torso, laughing although it lacked the energy it usually had.

"You..." he breathed, half giggling. "You know why I like you the most, Jamie? More than any of the others?"

JJ could barely listen to Anti. Everything was so bright. So loud. So painful. He didn't respond when Anti lowered his head to his ear.

"You like to struggle," he purred. "But not like the hero. No, no. I can't take him, but you... you can break. Like a little porcelain vase."

He shivered from the warmth of the breath on his skin. He stretched his neck away from Anti, shutting his eyes in humiliation. For what felt like forever, nothing happened, although it was probably only a few seconds. Something cold brushed along his hand. He flinched and snapped his eyes open to see what it was. The blade of the knife in Anti's hand had accidentally touched him.

Anti noticed this and lifted the knife. He lightly ran the edge down the side of JJ's head, then his neck, all the while, JJ was holding his breath. Anti hummed in satisfaction. "You're not a fighter, even though you want to be. You can't even call for help, let alone speak. Or scream." He continued trailing the knife along JJ's throat, lightly enough so to not break the skin. "I wanna make you scream. One day, I will."

Then, Anti lifted the knife and swiped the jagged edge through the flesh of JJ's arm. He jerked his body in response, the tears finally escaping. He could immediately feel blood seep out of the gash. "Why can't you talk? Have you ever tried?" He put the blade against the other arm and cut deep, drawing it out this time. JJ squirmed beneath him, wrestling to get free. Moving his arms like he did only made Anti push harder.

He really did want to scream. He just couldn't. Anti didn't understand that. Or he did, and he was intentionally playing with him like he was his toy.

"This would be so much more fun if you just—" He flipped the knife around in his hand and swung downward, stabbing the floor. "Took a break every once in a while," he growled out, chest heaving with fatigue. "We can't do this forever, you know."

JJ's head throbbed. He wished he could sleep and never wake up. He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but Anti was right. Perhaps the best option was to stop this for now, get his strength back, and let himself heal from this head injury. It was making him act without thinking.

Or, perhaps this was Anti affecting him with his cursed magic. He still felt it, still yearning for authority over his mind.

Despite the possibility, he stopped himself, squeezing his eyes closed and turning his head to keep from crying. In a few moments, the feeling of the knife disappeared, but the pain of the injuries remained. He felt a weight being lifted off of him, literally and figuratively. He didn't dare bother checking to see what Anti was doing. He simply dragged his arms down and wiped his cheeks dry with his hands. And when he heard the clacking of shoes getting farther and farther away, he stayed in the same spot and hoped that Anti would give him mercy and let him rèst͟.