I would love to! But... I have a question, for the good of the whole. Should it be from Will's perspective, or Dad's?

the kennel, will & his dad reunited

part of the kennel. follows will's rescue; master list here.

content warnings for: graphic descriptions of bodily injury and scarring, med whump, mild body horror, references to mouth whump, references to past noncon, hospitals, absent parents, unconscious whumpee, aftermath of captivity, adult language

after will's rescue, the fragile cry

“Mr. Cartwright?” 

Brian looks up, blinking at the woman in front of him. She wears a navy pantsuit, and her dark hair is tamed into a tight, perfect bun at the nape of her neck, and maybe he would think she was attractive under any other circumstances. 

But this woman is here because of Will. She’s Brian’s handler, meant to keep the news of Will’s recovery underwraps until the Bureau is ready to put out a press release. Until they know what they’re dealing with. 

Brian Cartwright hasn’t seen his son in 293 days. 

He isn’t supposed to keep track–the counselor he’s been working with says that it isn’t necessarily helpful to watch the time so closely–but Brian can’t help it. He keeps a running tally of the days in the corner of his desk calendar. Sometimes, updating the long line of hatch marks is the only thing he remembers to do when he goes into the office. They don’t expect much from him, of course, and they won’t fire him; no one fires the guy whose son has been kidnapped. 

I had so much fun with Will's rescue that you're going to get Dad Cartwright's reunion with his poor sweet boy in short order. Thank you so much for all the engagement!

a kennel christmas special

masterlist here. a little bit naughty (read: hurt) and a little bit nice (read: comfort).

content warnings for: extreme dehumanization, implied future noncon, humiliation, captivity whump, creepy/intimate whumper, light mouth whump, ptsd, dissociation, adult language (because will's monologue is will's monologue)

captivity & recovery, room to build

“Go on and open it up,” Doc says with a smile. 

Will stares at the box like it’s diseased. It might as well be. There’s no way that whatever’s in it is something that Will actually wants. He’s seen the kind of “gifts” Tommy gets. If it’s anything that can plug an orifice, Will would rather leave the fucking box alone. 

“Come on now, boy. It’s Christmas. Peace on earth, good will toward even worthless mutts like you,” Doc urges. 

the kennel, recovery arc

masterlist here. occurs several months into will's recovery. this one comes with a special surprise.

content warnings for: referenced noncon, scarring, human trafficking, bbu/bbu-adjacent elements, traumatized whumpee, therapy, adult language

recovery piece, hope house

See, the thing about therapy is, when you show up, they expect you to talk. Or maybe they don’t. Every therapist Will has seen since his release from the hospital insists that the time is his, and if that’s really true, then they should be fine if Will wants to spend it staring into silent space. He’s pretty sure that silence isn’t what they’d prefer, but they all smile that weird, tight-lipped, clinical smile and try to nod reassuringly before he goes out. He isn’t reassured, and he usually doesn’t go back to the same person twice. It isn’t fair to torture the same person over and over. Will knows that for certain. 

He does go back, though. It’s important to Dad, and to Tommy and Annie. All three of them have their own counselors or psychiatrists. It’s like a fucking mental health love fest.