#bthb: duct tape

[two-birds-alone-together]

How about BTHB - taking the blame? I'm also curious about duct tape if you feel like doing a 2 for ❤️

Oh my god, I had a whole multi-gif presentation for you and fucking Tumblr ate it.

Unfortunately, I don't have snippies from either.

BUT I am somehow outlining Taking the Blame as I answer this post. Also it's like... fulllllll of spoilers so when I write this fic in a few months pretend you don't know what's going to happen.

Also also... I’m bawling over it.

Duct Tape

Super nascent-stage idea. Also, not going for like... accuracy here haha

On the road to Jackson, Ellie is nabbed by raiders while Joel is... idk what he's doing, but he's not there when she's grabbed. She, predictably, fights tooth and nail, so the raiders duct tape her to a tree. She manages to bite through the tape restraining her shoulders before they notice. As punishment, they duct tape her ponytail to the tree so she can't bite through it again.

Anyway, Joel shows up, saves the day, and spends hours working Ellie's hair free of the tape and generally being gruff!protective!emotionally-constipated-but-somehow-also-panicking!Joel.

Taking the Blame

Below the cut, in case anyone wants to stay spoiler free.

Joel and Ellie arrive in Salt Lake City, and everything goes down per canon. Joel works his way through the hospital. Reaches the OR.

Anderson is dead. 

The nurses are dead. 

A woman -- a Firefly person -- has her back to the door as she attempts to wrestle an unconscious Ellie into a wheelchair.

"Get away from her."

The woman freezes, puts her hands up. Turns.

"I want her out of here. Same as you."

Something in her tone rattles him enough to widen his must-save-Ellie tunnel vision. He looks at her -- really looks at her.

And he believes her.

She tells him there’s a car gassed up and ready to go.  The three of them work their way to the parking garage. They encounter Marlene.

Marlene shoots the woman; Joel shoots Marlene. 

He leaves them both on the ground, puts Ellie in the car. Goes back to the women. Dispatches Marlene.

The other woman, the one who saved Ellie, is (clearly) fatally wounded, but still conscious.  

She begs him to keep Ellie safe; begs him to keep Ellie as far away from the Fireflies as he can; begs him to make Ellie think the Fireflies have given up on finding a cure.

Joel agrees.

He carries the woman to the car, props her against the tire. Eases Ellie into the woman’s arms.  Helps her to hold Ellie until she’s gone.

He swears to Ellie that they've given up hope for a cure. That raiders attacked the hospital.

And when Ellie goes back to St. Mary’s — when she demands the truth from Joel — he tells her.

He tells her making a vaccine would have killed her.

He tells her he honored a dying wish to keep Ellie safe, to make her think there was no hope for a cure.

He tells her… her mother saved her life.

And he tells her he'd have done the same.

[devirnis]

Meet Me In The Dark

Sequel to The Shadows of Every Spark (aka, the restaurant au) Rating: M Relationships: Maddie Buckley/Chimney Han, Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Maddie Buckley & Evan Buckley Word count: 14.9k

“Hi, doll.” Ice pours into Maddie’s veins. She jerks her head in the direction of the voice, praying she’s just hallucinating after a long shift – She’s not hallucinating. There, standing beside the dining room table, is the one person she hoped she’d never have to see again. “Doug,” she rasps. And then she takes in the rest of the scene. Buck is sitting in a chair at Doug’s side. Duct tape is plastered over his mouth, his cheeks bulging in a way that means he must have something stuffed inside his mouth to further silence him, and his arms are pulled behind him and around the back of the chair, so he’s obviously restrained somehow. His eyes are wide and panicked, but he hasn’t moved an inch �� probably because of the gun pressed against his temple. BTHB: handcuffed/manacled

(read on ao3)

[princessfbi]

Of Blackmail and Take Out

“Okay,” Sasha said with a forced cheer Maddie saw right through. “Our shift is eight hours. You have until the end to delete all the logs. Then you and I will leave together and meet Julian. Don’t signal for help. Don’t try—”

“I get it, Sasha.” Maddie snapped. “Do it and you won’t hurt my brother.” 

Sasha’s smile crashed into a scowl. “It’s not like I’m asking you to rob a bank, Maddie.”

BTHB Prompt: Blackmail @badthingshappenbingo

Whumptober Prompts: Duct Tape, "Take Me Instead", Proof of Life

Read on Ao3

Rated: G | One Shot | Words: 15,767

[shywhumpauthor]

Red Stained Riches

—After Whumptober Part 1—

BTHB- Tied in a trunk

Prev. || Masterlist

Cw: car crash (implied), implied character death (not a major character, but more really a minor one either), past torture, injuries, concussion, kidnapping? Rescue? Whatever you want to call it. Kaden’s head and thoughts are all skewed in this. Broken Whumpee

Daniel took his instructions seriously. He packed his few things in a matter of minutes, dropping the bag into the passenger seat of the car he was instructed to take before returning inside to collect Kaden.

That hadn’t moved from where Mathias had dropped them, their eyes shut despite clearly being awake. Their breaths were ragged and shaky, shallow as every inhale sent a deep ache hammering against their sternum.

They didn’t know only a handful of kicks could cause so much damage. Each exhale made them wheeze, trying not to cough as that only made the pain worse. They supposed it was a good thing, though, the pain in their chest helping to distract them from the deep throb radiating from their forearms. Their ankles had long since gone numb, which they supposed was good too. Well, they knew that probably wasn’t good, but a break from the pain, even if it meant suffering from further damage in the future, was relieving.

Their breath hitched as Daniel picked them up, his strong arms hooking around their waist and simply lugging them up to sling over his shoulder. The movement made their mind flash white, torso burning as they were handled roughly. He didn’t say a word to them, just began walking to the little garage off the kitchen, circling around to where the trunk was already popped open, and setting them inside.

For a moment, Kaden feared the restraints—duct tape winding tight around their wrists, ropes pressing so hard against their knees they wouldncut off circulation. With a panicked wheeze, they cracked open their eyes, their frantic, teary gaze meeting Daniel’s.

His lips pressed together, and he glanced over his shoulder, before slamming the boot of the car shut.

…

Kaden was at a loss, their mind reeling with a whirl of thoughts. Their confusion only grew as they heard the open, then close, of one of the doors, the car shaking slightly before the ignition sparked to life. Even though the trunk was disconnected from the main portion of the car, Kaden could hear faintly as Daniel grumbled to himself, before the hum of the motor drowned him out.

Shakily, they curled their knees to their chest, tucking their bruised arms close to their chest. Their body was completely engulfed in a static, a pain constant throughout every cell that they weren’t even sure it was pain anymore. It was weird, they thought to themself, eyes slipping shut as the car began to move. Without any restraints to keep them constricted, it was at least slightly more comfortable than the last time they had been stuffed in a trunk.

They couldn’t remember a time where they hadn’t been in pain. No matter when it was, there was always an ache, a healing wound, a strong throb from a strained muscle, there was always something. They were getting so tired of it, so fucking tired of always being tired.

One day. One day where they felt good, that’s all they could ask for. One day where they woke up feeling good, and fell asleep feeling even better. For months they had woken to fear, to pain, to torture and stress. It was exhausting.

Everything was exhausting.

The car gave a small jolt, and Kaden flinched, bracing their elbows against the inside of the trunk. The space was cramped, barely wide enough for them to shift in an attempt at comfort. Eventually they managed to assume something relatively painless, not straining against any of the new injuries.

They were grateful they weren’t blindfolded this time, without the constant pressure pushing against the bridge of their nose or the knotted fabric digging into the back of their head, they were able to fall into a light rest with ease. Though, they supposed it wouldn’t matter if they had been blindfolded, the trunk created a dark void for them to settle into. It was still nice to have that little luxury.

They couldn’t fall asleep, but they came close enough for when the car jolted they gasped, cringing to an upright position and smacking their head against the inside of the trunk. Stars exploded in front of their vision, painting the darkness like a night sky as horn blasted, so loud it might have been right next to their head.

Everything from that moment was a flash. They could hear the squeal of the breaks, their stomach dropping as the car swerved. The last thing they could remember was a shouted curse, before they were thrown against the wall of the trunk. The side of their skull hit the ground, and everything was lost.

•••

“…nothin’ in here…”

“…right car…”

“…sure it was…”

Voices, faint voices faded in and out of Kaden’s mind, each one sending a thousand knives drilling into their skull. Their breath hitched in a small whimper, but that too only sent a fire burning through their chest, with such an intensity they felt like their lungs themselves had shriveled up and shattered.

“…gone…”

“—call boss—”

“…check the…”

Everything was moving. The darkness spun around them at an impossible speed, each shallow breath they took causing the world to lurch a new direction. They could feel something warm, sticky against their forehead, their cheek. It dripped to their lips, and it tasted like metal.

The world itself seemed to explode as a sudden light flooded into their little cave, their hideaway, safe spot. They couldn’t remember where they were, but it was just them and it was there. There was here. Something bright shined on their face and Kaden’s eyes squeezed shut, a low sound squeaking past their lips. The pain that cracked through their head was like nothing before, going numb.

They could hear a sound, someone else talking loudly. Why would anyone talk that loudly? Each word was like a hammer, turning the shattered fragments in their mind to nothing but a fine dust. These people were rude, really rude. Kaden couldn’t tell if they were even people, if the muddled voices were just figments of their imagination. No, they were people. Their mind wouldn’t be this rude, shining lights in their face, speaking loud.

Something pressed against their neck and they jolted away, voice breaking out in a cracked whine. Their throat, decorated in a collar of bruises from the belt, was sore. Why would they touch it?

“-alive… right car…”

Right car? Kaden’s mind prompted them to open their eyes, their disconnected thoughts fueling a delusional sort of curiosity. No, their head hurt enough, thank you. Their head hurt and the light was still shining against their face, so they’d like to keep their eyes closed. Closed tight away from the light. Oh. That rhymes.

…

Pain.

Touching them, something was touching them. Slipping under their knees and shoulders, hoisting them out of the trunk. They let out a ragged gasp, every muscle tensing as their body screamed.

There were more voices, but they were distant, pushed to the back of their mind by the pain. Oh god it hurt, everything hurt.

The light had gone away. If they had one thing else to focus on, it was the light, no longer glaring into their eyes. Allowing them to rest easier as they fought to breathe. Not rest, no. Rest wasn’t the right word. Relax? No.

Settle.

It allowed them to settle easier.

Another strangled whimper twisted itself from their throat, raw and full of pain as they were set down on something again. Softer, more comfortable than the boot of a car for sure, but too stiff to be a bed

Oh how they longed to be put to bed, to have blankets tucked over them and the lights shut off, to drift off into a cozy warm sleep without a care. God, they’d kill for a warm place to sleep right now. It was cold out, they were just now noticing. How their skin pricked with goosebumps, hairs raising along their scarred arms and neck.

“..hey, hey, can you hear me?” Something prodded Kaden’s cheek, sending their head lolling to the side. Their cheek pressed against something cold, smooth and soothing against their abused skin. The air was cold but this was nice, calming the pained flush that had risen to consume their face. Yeah, yeah they could hear. They could hear fine, it would be impossible not to hear. The person was yelling, screaming, voice bouncing for miles around. They could have stood halfway across the world, and they still would have been able to hear the person.

Ow.

Then something was pressing against their forehead, and Kaden hissed, a spike shooting through their skull, searing every nerve in its way. Whoever it was finally seemed to take a hint, growing a shred of decency as they quickly pulled whatever it was that touched them away.

“I don’t think they can hear,” The same voice that had spoken earlier muttered, tone neutral in pitch, with a slight curve of an accent. It wasn’t like Daniel’s accent, though, which had sounded elegant yet terrifying, each word accenting with a clip of power. This person spoke softly, their words traveling like soft waves against a beach.

Kaden wondered if they had an accent. Didn’t everyone, really? They didn’t think they had an accent, but surely to this person they would sound like they did. Or maybe their voice itself, raspy and cut from disuse, would be confused for an accent. How would that be described? Like an axe splitting wood? The sound of chalk against a board, painful to listen to for more than half a moment. Maybe they sounded like a rock bouncing across pavement, skidding with an uncomfortable sort of screech.

That seemed more likely than beach waves or powerful mechanics.

“God- what happened to their ankles?” A different voice gasped, and Kaden couldn’t help but feel a little offended. They didn’t need to sound so rude about it.

“Shit..” The first person breathed, and Kaden felt a light touch ghost against the ankle of their pant leg, pulling away before they did anything though. “You think they were one of his..?”

Kaden wanted to open their eyes then, to look at the people and try to figure out what was going on. It had been so long since they’d heard a voice other than Mathias’s or Daniel’s, between their muddled thoughts and general exhaustion, it took them a while to realize that the voices were unfamiliar. One of his? What did that even mean?

One of Mathias’s?

Yeah but, they would already know that. Daniel was there, he would make sure the strangers knew. He would pick them up and carry them back to the car, the trunk, and continue driving. Driving and driving for hours, until they were back in the manor. Until they knew they were safe under the protection of their captor, yeah.

Where was Daniel?

He had been in the car before, yeah. Of course, he was the one driving. He had to have been in the car. But other than those two voices, Kaden could hear nothing.

“I dunno. We’ll have to wait for them to wake, see if they’ll talk.”

Talk. Kaden missed talking. It had been a while since they’d been able to speak freely, without the hinderance of fear or pain. With the bruises blooming against their throat, each raspy inhale, they could tell it would be a while before they would talk right again.

“The other guy?” The second, higher voice asked, their voice dropping so Kaden could barely hear. It wasn’t like they were going out of their way to eavesdrop, but while they were unable to open their eyes, to move or see or feel, listening was one of the few things they could do.

There was a brief pause before the first responded. “No. Hunter’s going to take care of the body.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Body? Kaden had a body. Was that the body they were talking about? No, it was another body. They would be talking about Kaden’s body right next to them. And they were alive. Who referred to alive people as bodies?

“You sit in the back, make sure they don’t die or nothing,” The same second voice sighed, their tone becoming a bit more distant until Kaden could no longer hear.

A minute passed, maybe two, and Kaden whimpered as a hand slipped under the back of their head, propping something soft under the base of their skull. Oh.

They could hear the person sigh, the seat shifting with their weight as they sat down somewhere near Kaden. The car started up a moment or so later, the quiet engine sending a dagger piercing through their skull. Their breath hitched in a pained whimper, a fire sparking in their mind as the car began to drive.

Mathias was going to get mad, they knew. Though really, it would be Daniel who could only be blamed for this, Kaden was sure he would find a way to get mad at them for not returning to the manor on time. He would get mad and they’d be in much more trouble than anything these people could do to them.

Kaden wanted to speak, to say something. To cry and beg to be brought back to Daniel, that these strangers had no clue what kind of fate they were commending them to by taking them. This would be Mathias’s last straw.

They couldn’t bring themself to move, though. Couldn’t move or speak or think. So instead, they surrendered themself to sleep, knowing there was nothing else they could control in the moment.

—————————

Next

Tag list: @whumpasaurus101 @t0rture-me @suspicious-whumping-egg @d-cs @whumpycries @pigeonwhumps @morning-star-whump

[orionares]

BTHB: Used as Bait

BTHB: Used as Bait

Law and Order: SVU/OC

@badthingshappenbingo

—------

"WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING SO LONG?" 

Olivia Benson watches the erratic, lanky man pacing in front of her check his phone the tenth or so time. She's handcuffed on a pallet in a warehouse room with a throbbing headache she's blaming on being pistol whipped.

"You kidnapped a police captain. I can guarantee you people are looking for me," Olivia says. The man in front of her stops pacing to shoot her a scowl. 

"It better be Stabler and his ego walking through the door," the man snaps and points in the direction of the door. Olivia swallows hard at the sight of what looks like a homemade explosive the size of a computer box sitting against the wall. She can see wires running from explosives to under the pallet but she can't see where they run to. 

Her conclusion terrifies her but she maintains her composure- I'm connected to a bomb.

The man kicks the wall, yanking her out of her thoughts, yelling, "I made sure everybody knows I took you because of him. Where is he?"

Burning the city down looking for me- the voice in the back of her head says. She shakes off the thought as a second, less hopeful one takes its place. 

He won't look for you. He left you for a decade, remember?

"What's your name?" Olivia asks to distract him. In the short time since waking, Olivia had clocked him to be in his late twenties and based on her knowledge of Elliot's latest focus- the Huerra cartel- a buyer or a lower level member. 

"Why? We're not friends."

"I could call you 'John Doe'."

The man sniffs, wipes his nose and grumbles, "Zeke Solomon. Stabler knows who I am."

Olivia nods. "Care to enlighten me?" 

Zeke crosses his arms and scans her head to toe. It's an uncomfortable leer he gives her before pointing in the direction of the door. "Stabler and his band of merry cops somehow figured out where our headquarters were and arrested half of my crew! It all got blamed on me! My life is over because of him. So I'm going to ruin his."

"By killing me in front of him?"

Zeke smiles greedily at the Captain. "By wiping everything he loves off the face of the Earth," he sneers.

Zeke starts to pace, giving her a minute to think. A part of her knows that Elliot's  likely a mess, arguing, threatening and destroying everything he can get his hands on. 

Or maybe he isn't coming. He wasn't here during the accident and he won't be here now. 

Maybe it's something she can use.

 So she decides to bluff.

"He won't come for me."

Zeke stops in his tracks and slowly turns his head to look at Olivia. "Excuse me?"

"He won't come for me," Olivia blurts out. "The NYPD won't let him and-"

"Stop talking."

"You chose wrong," she hisses. The line between bluffing and the last ten years blurs a bit further. "He left me for a decade without a word. Who does that to someone they love?" 

Zeke snorts at the question and walks over to a grocery bag by the wall. He pulls a roll of duct tape from a grocery bag and turns to Olivia. "I followed Stabler for a bit because I was going to confront him- shoot him," he explains, "and then I saw you two talking in front of one Zo's cafe in Brooklyn and I knew."

Oh. She remembers the chance meeting with Elliot two weeks prior in front of the cafe a few blocks from OCCB.  She had been buying a pair of ballroom shoes for Noah when Elliot had jogged up to her with a grin on his face.

He'd asked her about the shoes, Noah's dance and soon they'd talk for over an hour about life with a break for coffee.

He saw Elliot and I be….us. Whatever us is right now.

"You saw us?" Olivia repeats. Zeke tears off a piece of tape and walks over to her. He kneels in front of her and presses the tape over her mouth. 

"I did," Zeke replies, "Now enough talking."

—-----

"Let me at least buy you a coffee since you're here, Liv. I'd love to hear more about Noah if you'd let me."

Olivia jerks upward when a banging beyond the door interrupts the memory. She watches Zeke push himself off of the wall and pull a Glock 26 from his waistband. 

"NYPD! Zeke Soloman, come out with your hands up!"booms from beyond the door. 

"Stabler, you better be out there or I'm putting a bullet in your girlfriend's head!" Zeke yells.

Outside the door, Olivia can hear shuffling behind the door and guesses it to be ESU shifting and taking sides on each side. 

"I'm here, Solomon," Elliot's voice brings a relief that nearly brings Olivia to tears. "What can we do to get you to release Captain Benson?"

Zeke aims his gun at Olivia while reaching out and turning the lock. He carefully backs away from the door, careful to step over the wires and stop directly behind Olivia. 

"I'm coming in unarmed," Elliot warns and steps into the doorframe. He's wearing a navy blue Henley under a NYPD Kevlar vest and jeans. "Zeke, let her go."

"I was starting to believe that you weren't coming," Zeke sneers. He presses the muzzle of his Glock against the back of her head. She winces and hopes- prays- that their uncanny ability to communicate without speaking still works. 

El, there are wires and explosives.  Do not come any closer- Olivia thinks hard while flicking her eyes over to the explosives. Do not blow us up before-

"You got my attention," Elliot replies. He doesn't give her any sign that he's caught on her message. Instead, Elliot holds up both hands and pleads, "Let Captain Benson go."

"Do you know my bosses think I was the one who gave them up to the NYPD?" Zeke yells. 

"Your cartel put drugs on the streets that were killing people," Elliot growls through gritted teeth. "I did my job, neither of which have anything to do with her!"

"Mmph!" Olivia moans before jerking her head towards the explosives. Please, Elliot. Look to your left!

Elliot steps to his right, keeping his eyes on Zeke. "And you killing two cops isn't going to cement you in history. Especially when they've dismissed you for kidnapping a police captain."

Zeke's mouth drips open slightly before he shuts it and shoves Olivia onto her side. As the man steps towards Elliot, Olivia inhales and waits for an explosion.

Nothing.

"You're lying, Stabler!"

"Zeke, listen to me-"

Olivia looks down to a gap in the pallet to see the end of the wires sitting unconnected. 

It's a dummy bomb. 

The Captain turns her head to see Zeke and Elliot a few feet apart. She takes a sharp inhale and kicks as hard as she can at Zeke's foot. Her heel hits his ankle, causing him to yell out in pain and jerk his head towards her. 

Elliot takes the opportunity and charges towards Zeke and tackles the man to the ground next to her feet. She hears footsteps and a chorus of "Get down!" and "NYPD!" from ESU enter the room out of her eyeline. 

"Take him!" She hears from Elliot. Olivia moans as she hears someone approach her from the left, grab her shoulders and turn her over. Elliot lifts her up into a sitting position, removes the tape from her mouth and then presses his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he pants."you okay?"

"You came," Olivia whispers. Tears begin to form in her eyes as she meets his blue eyes and truly sees her partner, here and now. “You came for me.” 

Elliot pulls back and looks at her in confusion, hurt clear in his eyes. “Liv?”

Olivia's sobbing now as she tucks her head into his chest. “You came for me.”

Elliot kisses the side of her head and drops his voice down to a whisper. "Liv, I love you," he whispers," I will never not come for you. I'm not making that mistake ever again. I promise. "

[whumpinparis]

Hostage video for Elliot?

Hostage Video (Elliot Pierce) [BTHB] [AU]

Content: Swearing/Cursing, Gagging, Mild Wounds (Cuts and Bruises), Kidnapping Reference, Gun, Bullet Wound, Unconsciousness.

For anon for @badthingshappenbingo. Can be read as a standalone piece.

Elliot Masterlist || ORNATE Masterlist || Part Two : Bleeding Out || Part Three : Locked in a Freezer

Flashes — a fast succession of them glazed Elliot’s vision. Silent tears had smeared kohl eyeliner down the right side of his face, the pigment settling into a cut across his cheek. There was no other kind for Elliot. Glistening tears in a defiant glare. It was as close as he could get to spitting in Alstair’s face.

He looked a sight. Purple marks danced across his face and neck and the silver of duct tape adhered to sensitive skin — open wounds. Alistair would fucking love this. Hands cuffed to a fixture on the floor, yellowed light bathing the entire room from the sunrise.

“Finally, someone managed to shut you up,” he would hum in amusement. “Isn’t it nice to listen for once, sweetheart?”

Elliot could hear it vividly. The gentle tone masking increasingly painful words. Pet names reserved only for when Alistair couldn’t resist showing his sick affection.

Heat thawed across his face as the tape was ripped from his skin. It tore away newly formed scabs and the bruise burned under the sharp removal.

“Could you look even more pathetic?” the rhetorical scoff from the woman standing in front of him as she crouched down in front of him.

Acrylic nails trailed across his face, gently tugging at the remainder of the scab on his cheek. Blood had already spread down his cheek, which Elliot was purposely ignoring. Then a flinch. Barely visible as the woman flicked the scab across the concrete.

“Do you think you can sit still for a little clip? Just to show your boyfriend what he’s missing?” Her words were spoken in such a soft tone, but they both knew it was empty compassion. They both knew that Alistair didn’t care.

The lens of the camera reflected glints of light from the occasional passing vehicle, which was what Elliot chose to focus on. Not the woman’s hands. Not the pistol dangling carelessly from her fingers.

There was a click as the camera began to roll.

“Just let him know you’re alright, hm? That you’d like to go home,” a bland instruction. “Remind him why he ever bothered with you.”

“Shove the video up your ass,” Elliot spat in response, battling past his sore throat to choke out an insult. “Uptight bitch.”

He coughed and cleared his throat, eyes on her instead of the camera.

Brief displeasure crossed her face for only a moment as she shook her head and laughed under her breath.

“You should be more polite to me,” a comment Elliot had heard all too many times.

“Fuck you.”

In the next moment, a burning, oozing, pain dove into his stomach. Gasping breaths to cope. Awkward movements to touch the wound. Dizzying moments of static pain and the click of an ended recording as Elliot crumpled into the concrete.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

May I ask for 'Strapped to a bomb' for BTHB?

((Borrowing @wildfaewhump‘s Fern for this. I promise to return them unscathed!))

Ivan’s sitting at his desk, compiling information on a case when his computer freezes. Frantically, he mashes CTRL+S, trying to get through to save what he was working on--but a new window pops open, fullscreen. “Fuck,” he hisses. A virus?

The window turns out to be a webcam view, judging from the little image of himself from his own webcam in the corner. He covers it with his hand, but a man’s voice comes out from his speakers. “I wouldn’t do that, detective.”

“The fuck? What is this?” Ivan mutters.

“I think you need to see what’s at stake here, Bell. Can’t have you acting rashly.”

The blank grey covering the other webcam lifts, and Ivan drops his hand in shock.

There’s a person seated in the middle of an empty room, head covered by a black sack, duct tape securing them to a chair and to--and to a bomb. Ivan’s heart races. That’s the kind of bomb police have been finding, after detonation, in the area. A figure wearing a black sack-hood and bulky coat steps away from the table the camera’s set up on. He walks over to the hooded prisoner and lifts the sack up.

Fern. It’s Fern. He recognizes their slight frame and ginger hair instantly. Ivan clutches his desktop helplessly, watching the young telepath blink dazedly in the harsh light of the room. He can tell they’re sweaty, hear terrified noises behind the duct tape covering their mouth. “Fern!” he calls out. “Fern, it’s okay, I’ll get you out of there!”

The bomber chuckles. “You will,” he agrees. “But only if you do something for me.”

“What the hell do you want?” Ivan asks, his eyes fixed on the sobbing path, checking for signs of injury.

“I want you to destroy all the evidence you’ve gathered on me.” The bomber starts pacing behind Fern, the heavy sound of their footfalls  making them flinch. “Run magnets over drives, burn papers, the works. If you don’t...” He holds up a small remote detonater, and clicks the first button. The bomb beeps alarmingly as it turns on, though there’s no sign of activity otherwise. Fern wails in terror, trying to buck away from the bomb.

“I wonder what little Fern has to say about all this?” the bomber muses. He reaches down and pulls the tape off of their mouth.

Fern cries out in pain, taking deep gasps of breath. “I-Iv-Ivan, help,” they stammer, sobbing anew. “I d, I don’t, it’s so...” They can’t keep it together enough for words and just start bawling, tears dripping onto the bomb casing.

Ivan can’t imagine what Fern’s feeling--not just from the situation, but from being in contact with that hateful device. The fear, the terror, the absolute certainty that the bomb is going to cause death and pain.

But is it worth it, sacrificing months of work and putting potential dozens more people in danger to save one life?

Yes. Absolutely. “I’ll do it.”

“I’ll be watching,” the bomber says, putting a hand on Fern’s head, keeping the other on the remote. “I’m in your computer, Bell. I want you to start by pulling everything out of your cloud storage.”

Ivan does as instructed, grimly removing his files from storage, from backup storage, putting papers and notes in his wire trash can and burning them--the bomber makes them both watch til there’s nothing but ash--and then pulling his backup drives out of the file cabinet and the secret drawer in his desk and moving a magnet over them. Only when he’s shown that the drives are empty is the bomber satisfied.

“You did well, Bell,” he says. He takes a knife out of his pocket and starts cutting the bomb away from Fern, leaving it live--the threat is still there. When it’s tucked under his arm, Fern collapses forward, sobbing weakly in relief. “I trust you can figure out where your pet Path is. Come get it.”

The camera feed closes, and Ivan leaps into action, grabbing his bag and bolting out the front door. He heard a church bell while he was deleting files--he knows that exact one, knows where it is, can figure out where his friend is held. He’s out the door in less than a minute, tearing down the street in his car.

It takes half an hour for Ivan to get out of town to the suburbs, to near the church. There are houses for sale in this area, always are--he scours the buildings until he sees a propped-open basement window and peers inside.

Fern’s sitting in the center of the room, white as a ghost, sagging forward in the chair. “Fern!” Ivan calls, and the Path jerks a bit, looking up. Seeing Ivan sends them into fresh tears. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m gonna get you out.”

He climbs into the window, squeezing himself through the narrow space, and rushes to Fern’s side. He cuts the duct tape off their wrists and steps back while they stand. “Do you need--” His question is answered as they launch themself into his arms, clinging to him, seeking relief in his familiar hold. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Ivan murmurs, wrapping one arm around them and stroking their hair. “Let’s get you back to Ezra’s.”

“Tha-a-nk you,” Fern mumbles tremulously, letting themself be picked up and carried out of the empty house, back to safety and familiarity.

[devirnis]

Last Line(s) 🔪

tagged by @daffi-990 @try-set-me-on-fire

I should be focusing on the holiday fic but whump inspo has come back to me and will not leave me alone, so here's a little teaser from the next BTHB fill "forced to watch":

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie whispers, ripping off a piece of duct tape. Buck’s eyes are still on his face, but they’re glassy and unfocused. “S’okay,” he slurs. “Do it.”

if you wanna @bigfootsmom @homerforsure @princessfbi @messyhairdiaz @eowon @shitouttabuck @housewifebuck @giddyupbuck @wildlife4life @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @dijkstraspath @starlingbite @disasterbuckdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @honestlydarkprincess @bvckandeddie @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @loserdiaz @malewifediaz @sibylsleaves <3

[thumpsandwhump]

I'm loving Millie, can I request "you said you'd let them go" for BTHB? Also you can use whoever :) thank you so much!

Hi! I’m sorry that it took me forever to write this. I hope you enjoy it!

“You have something I want.” Audrey pulled the smaller girl impossibly close to her, a hand fisted in her curls and a delicate dagger against her throat.

“And what would that be?” Millie spat out. “You’ve already tortured both of us. You go after my girlfriend, hoping to what? Entice me? Guilt me into being with you? You don’t get to use me, throwing me away when you’ve had all of your fun.”

“Oh honey, it sounds like you’re the one who’s still caught up in that. I don’t want your love. I want your hate. I want your fear. To feel you tremble beneath my fingertips. And if I have to hurt your friend to get it, I will.”

Audrey dug the knife in deeper, sending droplets of blood down Fleur’s chest. She gasped, earning a chuckle from her captor. “I’ll make a deal with you, Mil. If you willingly let me do my thing with you, I’ll let your little toy go. You sit down and take your punishments like a good girl and I won’t touch her ever again.” She grinned, the fluorescent lighting catching her eyes, made her look even more sinister.

Millie shuddered, remembering all of the horrible things that had happened to her when she was in this house. Could she really subject herself to that again?

“Do you promise that you’ll let her go?” Millie felt uneasy. If she was going to do this, Fleur had to be safe. She was more important. People would miss her.

“No!” Fleur writhed in the cruel gasp, trying fruitlessly to escape.

“Shhhh. You don’t get to influence her decision,” she let go of her hair to stroke her cheek. “Think of all of the fun that we could have together.”

“Stop! I’ll do it! Please, just let her go.”

“Hmm. Are you sure? Well then, go get the duct tape. You can start gagging yourself and binding your ankles.”

Fleur looked on in horror, seeing how easily her girlfriend obeyed this woman. “Babe, please don’t do this! I’m not worth it!”

“Silence! She’s made her choice. You should feel honored that someone is willing to sacrifice themselves for you.”

Millie gave Audrey a glare. “Oh, well I suppose I have my end of the deal to hold up.”

With a movement faster than Millie could comprehend, Audrey jerked the knife hard against Fleur’s throat, letting her crumple limply into the cold concrete.

Millie screamed inhumanly. Even muffled against the tape, it was so much better than how she sounded in their sessions.

“You said you would let her go! You promised!” She crawled over to her body, holding her lifeless body against her beating heart.

“I never promised anything. I told you that I wouldn’t ever touch her again. Now no one can harm her.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I had known you were going to kill her anyway.”

“I’m aware. Why do you think that I so conveniently kept that from the conversation? Learn to not trust anyone. Now go down stairs. I wouldn’t want you to think that you can get off easily just because you didn’t struggle.”

[devirnis]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by the lovely @bigfootsmom

have some more bthb hostage video fic! this should be out tomorrow evening or friday, depending on how much more of the editing process I can stand and whether or not I actually have a flight to visit my bff this weekend or not :(

Eddie’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances down at the message preview and sees that Buck’s sent a picture to the 118 group chat. Smiling, Eddie unlocks his phone, expecting to see a pity-party selfie or a picture of a bowl of soup.  

Instead, the image that loads makes his heart plummet into his stomach as the world comes to a screeching halt around him.

It’s Buck, folded awkwardly in what appears to be the trunk of a car, hands secured behind his back with zip tie handcuffs, duct tape plastered over his mouth, eyes closed.

Eddie’s phone slips out of his limp grip and clatters against the table.

I tag @lesbiandiaz @dollhousejee @lamardeuse @homerforsure and anyone else who wants to share something :3

[orionares]

BTHB: Handcuffed

Psych

@badthingshappenbingo

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In the name of the father, my Colt 1911 and the universal hatred of hippies, I will not strangle Spencer with these cuffs….

"Psst...Lassie?"

We will get rescued and then he'll go back to San Francisco with O'Hara….

"Lassito? Can you scratch my back?"

And I will get a reward from the Mayor for self-control…

"Laaaaaasssie, please? Can't reach it- Hey! Do you ever use your cane as a back scratcher?"

"SPENCER!" Lassiter hisses loud enough for the bearded well, hippie guarding the arid decrepit living room to hear. The Police Chief scowls at the blank eyes of the guard and waits for the man to turn back to whatever the hell he'd been doing.

What fresh hell is this- he had told O'Hara that a fishing trip alone with Shawn wasn't going to end well. But then Marlowe had joined with O'Hara's puppy dog eyes and-

"What?" Shawn replies with the irritating casualness one isn't supposed to have while handcuffed back to back.

And also after being kidnapped.

Lassiter lowers his voice down to a loud whisper, "What did I tell you?"

"When Ron and his friends took us from the boat?"

Of course Spencer would figure out their captors name.

"How in God's name do you know that..man's name?" Lassiter asks, already prepared for the idiotic performance sure to follow. In the briefest of moments, Lassiter's heart lifts at the delay in response from Shawn and the beautiful possibility of a semi-mature response.

"'Cause I'm psychic."

Idiot.

Ron lumbers over from his near hour long guard at the door and sneers heavily, "You two needa shut up."

"Kidnapping a Police Chief and a civilian-"

"Psychic," Shawn interrupts because, of course.

Lassiter rolls his eyes and continues glaring at Ron. "Is making things worse. And a hippie like you, destroying this-"

Shawn wiggles in his spot and somehow manages not to irritate Lassiter's injured arm. He dramatically tsks and states," Look, Ron, my good man, as we had tried to tell you while we were on our boat before you swooped in and took us, we are just two men doing manly fishing ...manly...ly."

Lassiter sighs and quickly weighs the pros and cons of persuading Ron to duct tape Shawn's mouth shut. No, they were two men , forced by a pregnant detective and her puppy eyes to "bond".

"Wai, you's kinda young to be a puh-lees chief," Ron says, cocking his head to the right like a German Shepard. Normally, Carlton Lassiter would tear into Ron head to toe for well, everything, but it's the man's current attention that leaves Lassiter well, speechless.

Attention directed solely on Shawn.

Shawn chuckles, not even attempting to stifle down his delight at Ron's comment. "As much as I am delighted at the compliment, alas, I am not the Police Chief in this dynamic duo. No, I am Shawn Spencer, Master and commander of Psychfransico in beautiful San Francisco. This silver haired fox is my idol and Police Chief of Santa Barbara, Carlton Lassiter. "

Ron naively scoffs at Lassiter and chuckles, "You 'ain't a Police Chief. You look like his Daddy."

The squeal of delight from Spencer- is it possible to double the mortification he's already drowning in?

"Stooop," Shawn replies with giddy shyness. "I'd shake your hand , good man, if I could. Speaking of hands, I know you and your merry man of kidnappers-"

"Ya'll went on our land and we can't have that," Ron counters.

Lassiter blinks out of his daze of mortification and snorts at the happy conversing between Ron and Shawn.

How cute.

"Can you two stop sharing your feelings and get back to the fact that you and your little pals kidnapped a Police Chief-"

"And psychic!"

"Spencer, I swear to God-"

"What? Accuracy is important!"

"STOP!!" Ron bellows before staggering back to the counter. The over dramatic fall is one of the many reasons he had taken Lilly to a small gathering of hippies banging drums and reviewed in great details the detrimental behaviors of tree huggers.

A great activity for a four year old, despite Marlowe's eye roll.

"Are you really a Police Chief?" Ron blubbers. Lassiter groans and opens his mouth for another smarmy comment. Unfortunately, the motormouth champion of the West Coast beats him to it.

"He is. One of the best in the west. Just like I am and my psychic skill. Just how I predict that you make that right move and let me and the man who sleeps with two pistols in his bedside go."

It's three- one in the dresser, one under the pillow and one in the ejection slot on the bed frame, Lassiter thinks before the non- irritable side of him sparks a thoughtful observation.

Has Spencer been giving me compliments this whole time?

Ron opens his mouth and gawks momentarily at Lassiter before clumsily turning and lumbering out the door. Shawn sighs louder than necessary and then comments, "He seems nice."

"Do you two want a room to braid each other's hair," Lassiter growls with increasing volume," AND MAKE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS?"

"Gus and I did that last week," Shawn replies calmly," the friendship bracelets, I mean." He leans towards the wall, humming softly, before pressing a small sharp object against Lassiter's wrist. "I was going to just cut us free instead."

Lassiter Scrunches his nose and imagines his Lilly and his Marlowe smiling back at him and how he'd miss them dearly if he would be arrested for strangling Spencer. "You had a sharp object this entire time?"

"No. I found it but didn't want to use it with our main man Ron in the room,” Shawn states. Lassiter can feel Shawn’s hands fidgeting with the handcuffs. The Police Chief lets out a frustrated humph as Shawn continues to work before the glorious sound of a click from the handcuffs.

“Lassie, can I ask you a question?”

"No."

"No, seriously."

He'd bang his head against the wall if he could. Lassiter inhales and exhales slowly, knowing full well that Spencer could and would keep this game up if he wanted to. "Fine," he says slowly, "What?"

"How do you be a good father?"

Oh.

Oh.

The pain in the ass, the bane of his existence, the-

The handcuffs click and the cold metal around Lassiter's wrist drop to the ground. "Hold on," Shawn mutters as he continues to fidget with his own cuffs until they also drop to the ground. Shawn turns around and repeats his earlier question, "So yeah, how do you be a good father?"

Turning on the floor to face Shawn would take an awkward, frustrating set of movements so Lassiter stays back to back with Shawn. "Is that why you asked me to go fishing?"

Shawn grunts as he rolls onto his hands and then pushes himself up onto his knees. He shrugs and admits, “Me and my dad aren’t- well, we butt heads. With Jules being eight months pregnant, she figured out that I wanted to talk to you but-”

“Spencer, “ Lassiter hisses, softening his expression at the look in Shawn’s eyes. Is that puppy eyes? “How about this? We get out of here, I shoot some hippies and then I’ll give you six minutes.. and forty five seconds to ask me questions about fatherhood.”

Just as his daughter, Shawn perks up and grins as if just being told about a trip to the ice cream store. He stands and helps lift Lassiter to his feet. “There are six doors- two on the left and four on the right. We went down two flights of stairs with eight steps on each,” Shawn rambles, “and….when we were blindfolded in the back of the jeep, we took three left turns and a right turn from the boat.”

In normal times, especially back in the days when Shawn and Gus were causing chaos in Santa Barbara, Carlton Lassiter would scowl and walk away from the idiotic smile on Shawn’s face with Juliet on his heels. Right now, as he’s aggravated for being kidnapped, hungry and really wishing Marlowe hadn’t talked him into taking one pistol with him instead of his usual three, there is a small part of him that he will never outwardly admit that is a bit impressed and proud of Spencer.

A very, very small part of him. A minute size part of him.

“Ready?” Shawn asks as he pulls Lassiter’s uninjured arm over his shoulder for support.

Lassiter nods, thinking- Ready.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Escaping comes way too easy.

Lassiter isn’t the least surprised to find only two of the six men that had surrounded them on the boat sitting in the room at the top of the stairs. He really isn’t surprised when Shawn manages to sow doubt in Ron’s mind long enough to give Lassiter the chance to grab the closest item and whip it across the room and clock the second man in the back of the head.

After calling for assistance, arresting Ron and his unconscious friend and threatening the two arriving SBPD officers with hell if they even think about saying a word, Lassiter stands in front of a police vehicle, watching Shawn talk animatedly to Juliet O’Hara on the phone. The same small part of him that was impressed by Shawn triggers a faint smile on the Police Chief’s face.

“I’ll be home soon. Yep…..tell Gus that he can breathe…..I love you too….kiss the belly for me. Ok, bye!” Shawn exclaims happily. He pockets his phone and tries to calmly cross the lot to Lassiter. Lassiter can feel the excited energy bouncing off the younger man as he asks quietly, “So…..how can I be a good father to my little girl? Like you are?”

Good lord. Lassiter sighs and replies, “You’ll be fine, Spencer, but ask any question you want.”

“For six minutes and forty five seconds?”

He’ll regret this dearly. “I will open it up to ten minutes-” he holds up a hand as Shawn’s eyes widen with excitement, “-don’t make me regret this.”