#holding him for ransom

[foxes-that-run]

Ransom / hostage

Stockholm Syndrome | Ready for it…?

[thefrsers]

Why did you do that? Because, Claire. For the second time in his life, I've come within an inch of shooting my son.

requested by @gotham-ruaidh: 3.04 | 7.08

[merakiui]

thank you scalding sands event for reminding me of just how crazy rich kalim is... orz i often forget how spoiled he is and how willing his parents (especially his father) are to do all that they can to ensure he's happy. like remodeling the entire scarabia dorm to fit kalim's vision so he wouldn't be too homesick. or owning giraffes and elephants. or even having an entire private park attached to their already massive property. he is so rich. it's driving me insane. T_T

i wrote about the tweels using their family's influence to essentially "buy" you, but the real buying of you quite literally happens with kalim. you, the servant he's grown so fond of, will suddenly find yourself swimming in wealth. all of these things are gifts, courtesy of kalim. your family is spoiled rotten, and it's such a whiplash. you try to be humble because that's how you were raised, but kalim insists. take these jewels! take this aureate statue! take this car so that you can get yourself a license and drive him around in it! kalim isn't even trying to curry favor with you by drowning you in excessive opulence, even though he very well could. he just wants to give you these things because he likes you and wants you to be happy! but it's so suffocating; you have to thank him because he's your master. your family will forever be grateful to the asims. but it's so awkward. you don't want any of these things. you just want to work in peace.

of course you can't possibly imagine yourself in a relationship with kalim. he's very sweet, but you just don't see him in that way. the gap in wealth is too great, as is your social status. so it's shocking when his father personally visits your parents with kalim, where he gives his blessing for kalim to marry you. and in addition to that, he delivers a very expensive care package, a means of goodwill. "our families will be one now," he says with a radiant smile, "so please think nothing of this little gift!" and you try to say no, but your parents won't hear it. how could you say no to kalim al-asim?! are you foolish? do you not see how lucky you ought to be?

but you can't quite call it luck or a blessing. it feels more like a curse. kalim loves you, yes, but you don't want to love him for his money or his willingness to mindlessly spoil you. but you don't have much say in this matter. kalim's made up his mind and so has his father. the two of you will be wed. it's a nightmare. jamil would pity you, but he's known kalim long enough that any sympathy he might extend to you has long since shriveled.

[martyrbat]

perpetual mourning – batman black and white (1996) #1

[ID: a black and white panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as Batman investigating a murder. He performed an examination of the victim's body and found DNA evidence to convict her killer and then performed an autopsy to examine her stomach contents — which led him to a little 24/7 diner. He walks in, disrupting the cozy scene with his presence.

Bruce internally reflects, ‘People think i'm a knight. A savior. But in truth, I'm only a vessel to hold the memories of those who've passed on. Those who've no shell left to store them. They must think I revel in my victories. It must seem like I never lose a fight. I lose plenty. The ones I couldn't get to. The ones I couldn't save in time. Those are the ones I carry around inside of me. Those are the ones I'll mourn forever.’

He shows the only waitress a photo of the victim's face and asks, “Excuse me. Do any of you know this woman?” The waitress gasps and holds her hand to her head in shocked distress. She stammers, “That's Chelsea, she comes in here all the time. Sits in the same booth, the same time, reads the same book... um, what was the title...? She, uh, left here only a couple of... Why do you... Oh, god. No. Dear girl...”

Back at the morgue, Bruce solemnly gazes down at the woman as she lays in an unzipped body bag. He thinks, ‘Luckily, you hadn't digested your last meal, Chelsea. There're only a few places in the neighborhood where you were found that serve blueberry pie at this hour of the morning.’ He carefully zips the body bag entirely. The identification label states she was a thirty year old caucasian female. The name ‘Jane Doe’ has been scribbled out to now be replaced with ‘Chelsea Rain’. Bruce continues to ruminate, ‘You only have your thoughts and dreams ahead of you. You're someone. You mean something. I'll remember. You're within me now. Forever.’ END ID]

[lusalemaart]

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Monday: Blackmail au

Prologue

"Travel the stars with us," the Precursors said, "Become one of us."

"I will," answered the hero, "but only on one condition: in the next iteration of this endless cycle, let the child have his family. Let at least one iteration of us know his father."

"If we allow this," said the Precursors, "you will still be the chosen hero. You will still hold the blood of Mar. And you will still suffer. But for one lifetime, we will let the child be a separate person, in exchange for your service in this lifetime."

"Then it is agreed," said the hero, and so the wheel of time turned, changing direction ever so slightly.

Part One: The Bargain

"Ah, there he is, right on schedule." Krew chortled as Jak slipped through the pub door.

There were a lot of people at the bar, all Wastelanders. Tess shot a worried look at Jak, but kept her bubbly smile up. What was going on? Were these friends of Sig’s? Jak wasn't so sure, considering the concerned grimace Sig was sporting.

One of the newcomers, a broad, scarred man with a drooping mustache, stood up and approached Jak slowly.

"Yep," he drawled, circling the boys, "Nipper's got the eyes alright. Same jaw, too." He snorted. "Heh. And here I was afraid you was losin' your touch, Krew. Right. We'll take 'im."

"Excuse me?" Daxter sputtered.

"Sorry, Jak," Krew said without the slightest shred of sincerity, "But after that little racing stunt of yours, I had to do some thinking. I've got a lot of money riding on Errol winning that final race. I'm afraid you've just become too expensive to keep on. No hard feelings, eh? It's just business."

"Ok?" Jak eyed the Wastelanders suspiciously. "And that's supposed to keep me from racing because...?"

"Because you're under new management, shall we say." Krew gestured to the Wastelanders. "Don't think of it as being fired! Think of it as a transfer of sorts."

Daxter bristled. "You wanna run that by us again, Morning Breath?"

Instead, the Wastelander turned on his heel to face Krew. "Now, you an' me, we both know you're askin' too high for the state the brat's in. Come on, Krew, you ain't fed him this whole time?"

Jak went rigid and began to back towards the door. Whatever was happening here, he wanted no part of it.

"Well it's wholly up to your lord's discretion, of course," Krew said, oily smooth, "If you can't come up with the price, I'm sure the Baron would pay fairly for a soldier of Jak's caliber."

One of the women at the bar laughed meanly. "Lordship said you might say that. He also said to remind you that you could do that, but only if you feel like being hanged with your own entrails."

Krew fanned himself and hovered higher. "Oh dear me, that sounds like bad blood, doesn't it? Speaking of blood, you'd best get moving if you don't want to lose the boy, there. I'm not responsible for losses incurred during pickup."

Jak had barely gotten out the door before they were on him. Someone grabbed Daxter from his shoulder, and four more sets of hands pinned his arms. These weren't weak, exhausted Havenites. Or indolent KG looking for excitement. These were real Wastelanders, and they were more than a match for Jak's struggles.

"Let him go, rot you!" he snarled, lunging for the woman holding Daxter by the scruff, "Get your hands off him!"

"Easy, boy, easy." The woman took a step back. "Just gonna hang onto Shorty here as insurance."

Sig finally managed to push his way through the crowd and elbowed one of Jak's captors in the gut, hard. As the man doubled over, Sig ripped his hands off of Jak's arm.

"Hands off my rookies," he hissed.

"Sig, w- what- what- what-" Jak could barely speak. Rage and terror constricted his lungs, his throat.

"I don't know, cherry." Sig shook his head grimly. "But I'm gonna find out. No matter what happens, you stick close to me and do as I do, okay? We're gonna get you through this."

Then he shoved the rest of the Wastelanders away, one by one. They parted like wheat before the wind, like they knew Sig. Like they respected him. The second he was free, Jak had to lock his knees to keep from collapsing. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry that they could all see him trembling uncontrollably. Krew had sold him to Wastelanders like a piece of meat. Like a slave. What would happen to the search for the Tomb if he was imprisoned in the Wastes? Would The Shadow force the Kid to search in Jak’s stead? He wouldn't put it past him, not after the jobs they'd sent him to do.

"Oh, I do so love facilitating family reunions!" Krew cooed, hovering at the door, "It warms the heart! And me wallet!"

He waggled his fingers meaningfully and cast greedy eyes over a trunk the one called Kleiver kicked in his direction.

"Mmyes, tell your liege lord I'll keep me eyes peeled for the smaller brat, eh?"

Jak's already chilled blood froze. He lunged for Krew, barely restrained by Sig at the last second.

"Don't touch him!" he growled, "Don't you even look at him! I'll kill you! I'll rotting kill you!"

Jak didn't see the Wastelanders around him, even Sig, suddenly exchange extremely grim looks. But when Sig tugged him away from the bar and towards the waterfront, he knew something had changed.

"Quiet, cherry," Sig hissed in his ear. "You're gonna have the Guard down on us with that yelling, and I don't want to give Krew any ideas about collecting that bounty on you!"

They had to physically drag him into the air train, and even that was only possible because the woman holding Daxter captive went in first. Cursing Sig every step, Jak struggled in vain to get his arms free.

"Jak!" Sig finally exploded, "Knock it off! We're trying to save your ass, here!"

"I didn't ask for your help!" Jak aimed a kick behind him and met hard metal armor. Memories of the prison clawed at the edge of his mind, threatening to pull him back into a dark place.

"You have no right-! You can't buy- you- you-"

His breathing became rapid and labored. "I am not a thing!" he screamed, finally breaking free.

Seconds too late. The hatch was closed.

"Jak! Jak, look at me, kiddo, look at me!" Sig desperately tried to grab his arm.

"I don't know what's going on, you gotta believe me. But I know Krew wasn't joking about selling you to Praxis, and I'd die before I let that bastard get his hands on you again."

Kleiver curled his lip at them from across the hold. "Paid a ransom that coulda fed a garrison for a month and this is the thanks we get? Ungrateful brat is what you are."

Sig glared at him. "Ransom?! You walked in there talking like an auction! Who's ransoming Jak?"

The woman holding Daxter spoke up.

"Lord Damas wants him. Krew contacted him, month back. Said he had proof the Heir of Mar abandoned a bastard son during the coup and if nobody came forward to "take responsibility", he'd out him to Praxis."

Jak went very, very still. Was Krew using him to defraud someone? Wouldn't be out of character. But where had he gotten the idea to pass Jak off as the lost Heir? And did that mean little Mar was abandoned? If he was, Jak knew he was going to make this so-called lord in question pay in blood for it.

"Jak? Bull. Damas lost the baby in the coup. He didn't abandon him." Sig snapped.

"Not on purpose, at least," Kleiver snorted. “If you was carryin’ a deposed king’s brat during a hostile takeover, would you say anything?”

Sig tightened his jaw and said nothing.

Jak didn't know how long they were in the air train. He'd blocked everything out. The Wastelanders, Sig, even Daxter. He'd shut them out and retreated into the one corner of his mind where the darkness couldn't touch him. The place where he remembered the sound of the ocean, and warm waves against his ankles. He was free there, and they couldn't take the sea from him.

When they landed, he didn't even notice until a blinding light pierced the hold-

Along with the smell of salt air.

Jak raised his head slowly, squinting through hanks of hair into the light. His free place in his mind didn't have the smell of the sea. Why did he smell salt?

"Everybody out!" Kleiver bellowed, "You know I don't like monks, so let's get this over with, yeah?"

Sig wrapped an arm around Jak’s shoulders and pulled him to his feet. "Stay close, kids," he murmured, and Jak finally realized that now he had Daxter. "I...don't know what to tell you. But I'm gonna do whatever I can to keep you two safe, okay?"

They exited onto a spire of rock, high above what seemed like an endless stretch of desert on one side, and a turbulent sea on the other. A Precursor temple sat before them, surrounded by ruined columns and porticos. Three zoomer-like vehicles were parked near a tiny natural waterfall, which seemed to mean something to the Wastelanders.

"Welp. He's already here." The woman in the yellow turban sighed. "Fingers crossed this checks out, everybody."

She waved to Sig.

"Get him inside before noon, huh? I don't feel like losing a layer of skin to the sun, thanks."

It was nearly ten degrees colder inside the temple. Personally, Daxter thought the weird people dressed in rubber emanated half the chill themselves. One of them approached Sig, holding a small plastic cup. Their eyes flicked to Jak, and they held out the cup with a bored expression.

"Blood or saliva sample," they said flatly.

Jak balked. "What?"

Sig cringed. "They want to...to see if you're who Krew claimed you are. Just...spit in the cup, kid. Their computer will tell them if Krew was lying or not."

When it became clear that the monk wasn’t going to leave until they got what they were after, Jak begrudgingly spat into the cup. The monk exited the chamber without a word.

Jak spent the next three hours huddled in an alcove, behind a small Precursor statue. He clung to Daxter like a lifeline, glaring out at the monks and Wastelanders watching him and whispering amongst themselves. Any time one came close, Jak scooted further back into the cloister. None of them looked small enough to get around the statue at the mouth. They couldn't reach him here.

One man in particular wouldn't stop staring at them. He had a commanding presence, despite not being the tallest or broadest in the room. Scars decorated his face and arms, and sharp points of Precursor metal had been set into his skull. Which was admittedly kind of badass. He watched Jak with dark, piercing eyes and a hard set to his jaw. When a monk placidly paced forward and presented the man with a datapad, murmuring, "Positive match, sire," the man's eyes darkened further.

He turned on his heel and disappeared through a door.

"Sire?"

"I'm going to pray," the man snapped in a rough voice. "Leave me. And get the boy some water, for the gods' sake!"

Was that the man who had supposedly paid a ransom for him? Jak retreated into the very back of the cloister and buried his face in Daxter's fur.

"Rot this day. Rot this whole rotting week," he mumbled.

"You said it, pal." Dax wrapped his arms around Jak’s neck and tried to comfort him. "Hey, they made me spit in a cup too! You think their computer will tell them I'm an ottsel? Or a human?"

Jak blinked. "Uh....how smart are computers supposed to be?"

"Like. As smart as Vin, I think?"

Jak shrugged, grateful for the distraction. "Maybe. That'll freak ‘em out, huh?"

"Oh yeah. So what do you think is up with Spikes? Wrong answers only."

"Wrong only? Uh...he just found out he's part marmoset."

"Or his application for a piercing refund was rejected."

"Or," Sig interrupted flatly, "he just found out he had a kid he didn't know was alive, and he's dealing with a lot of guilt right now."

Sig crouched at the mouth of the cloister and looked in at them. He seemed to have aged years since that morning. He held out a hand and sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Come on out kiddo. We're gonna get you some food, some-"

He closed his eye and shook his head. "Volcan's bones. I...I didn't know- none of us did...gods, he must've snatched you the same year we lost Mar-"

"Mar?" Jak interrupted sharply, "What do you know about Mar?"

When Sig looked up again, Jak was shaken to see tears in his eye.

"I ain't talking about the founder of Haven, cherry. And I don't think you are, either."

He sniffed and cleared his throat. "Little thing. So...he's so- he was so small. Sweetest little kid you ever met, always getting into trouble."

He cleared his throat again and tapped his cybernetic eye. "Only takes a moment. You look away one minute. Not even one full minute. And that's all it takes for the world to end. Praxis sympathizers ambushed us. Shot out my eye and took- took Mar. We never saw him again. But...but I think you did."

Jak's stomach churned, and the world began to spin. Mar? The little boy he'd been so desperate to protect? This had to be some kind of trick, they were trying to trick him into giving up Mar's location so they could get to the Tomb. Daxter's claws dug into his arm, pulling him back to earth before the dark eco could take over.

"I have to go back-" Jak croaked, "You have to take me back- take me back! Take me back! I can't leave him alone!"

Sig shifted and looked up at someone just out of sight.

"I was right," he said heavily, "He knows something."

Next >

[pechaberriesandsoju]

I GOT MY PAYPAL BACK- THE RANSOM FOR PUBLICLY REVEALING QHO MY SECRET F/O 👁 IS STARTS AT $6 DO I HEAR $6? ANYONE WANNA GO FOR IT?

[bamfwizard]

jupeter 🤌

[dosnu]

Me reading tdoda and annotating horace moments like

[itsamenickname]

Look, I like the idea of Bowser not recognizing Luigi when he's disguised as Peach as much as the next guy, I really do, but I feel like there is a lot of unwholesome potential between Bowser and Luigi if the Koopa King almost immediately found out that he kidnapped the wrong Peach.

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

and if you'd like to support a fanfic hoe in need...would you Buy me a Coffee?

[ladywuvly]

hugh jackman +au. + characters rec list!

masterlist. socials. recs.

head canons |

Sleeping next to Logan means that you never have to worry about feeling cold again by @whispersfromaeons Lumberjack!Logan by @groovyangelkisses - Dinner on a cozy fall night. Lumberjack!Logan by @bpmiranda - Logan who is all too happy to deliver lumber in your part of town even though it is very much out of his way. Oldman!Logan Sitting in his lap by @nymphoniah Oldman!Logan and his obsession with the cute diner girl by @thinkinonsense Dogtags by @silverskyeline - You’re wearing logos dogtags as you ride him. Jailbait by @dollverine - logan and his controversially young girlfriend. I was made for loving you by @hanasnx - “I’m gonna take care of you.” Those six words—six—have defined your relationship with your husband, Logan howlett. Raw by @eloquentlytired  Needed little thing by @nymphoniah - Logan is a munch, and he is absolutely shameless about it. Smoking out the window by @nymphoniah My little princess by @bratscave Belt buckle by @gothgoblinbabe

fics & imagines |

This is ours by @d1stalker - It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand. moodboard!by@divinesols Moanin’ and groaning’ by @shellshocklove - Working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad, especially when he can teach you a thing or two. Ain't gon' ever deserve you by @awxcoffeexno - Logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve. Guilty as sin by @logansbaby - The entire time you’ve known logan howlett, you’ve tried to keep your longings locked. then, one night, all that effort goes to waste when you’re confronted about your feelings. Slippin’ and slidin’ all over you by @sceletaflores - Logan forgot to fix the ac. pretty much anything from their masterlist! I can fix him and fuck him by @filmstarved - Nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again. Fortnight by @pretty-little-mind33 - Your dad sends Logan over to help you build some furniture in your new apartment, unaware you'll end up with Logan's head in between your thighs. Would you be so kind in lending a hand? by @malavera - That friendly neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day. Your perfume is holding me ransom by @retrosabers - The scent of you is driving Logan crazy. Unexpected tendencies by @figsnpassionfruits - Basically just bathroom sex w/Logan. Stain ‘em baby baby by @darnell-la - Logan had just became apart of the x men. he’s always been known to flirt with whoever he could, but when you came around, he realized she was the only one he wanted to smell like. Claws and marks by @mrsimpurity - Getting logan’s name tattooed on you earns you a very unexpected reaction. A peaceful repose by @d1stalker - After some time away on a mission, Logan comes home, and all he wants to do is be around you. Time after time by @hyper-fixates - 4 times you end up in Logan’s bed, and the 1 time he does something about it. Knuckle velvet by @ohcaptains - Logan walks you home, then lets himself in. Give me all of the ultraviolence by @joelsgoldrush - It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. In which you can’t help but suck Logan off.

series/multi part |

Don't be late by @bucketslutz - You've spent your entire academic career trying to hide who you really are. First day of grad school you meet someone that sparks something deep inside you. Your history professor, Logan, makes you feel things you've never felt from someone before. moodboard! Broken promises by @not-neverland06 - Bodyguard Logan falls in love with congressman's daughter. Cross that line by @healmydesires - For a long time, you were content hiding your feelings, but lately, the longing for someone you can’t have has become unbearable. Despite knowing he could never be yours, you still cherished the sweet ache in your heart whenever he smiled or gave you a warm, platonic hug. Then, one day, everything changed. First Drink by @eyesxxyou - You were everything Logan shouldn't want, young, religious, innocent, you were sweet to everyone, and you've never been touched.

Oldman!Logan howlett

Be my baby by @cavillscurls - Logan fucks you in your sundress. Cant get started by @dollfacefantasy - Logan can't get it up one night and is humiliated. but that just means he'll have to prove he can still satisfy you. Chauffeur by @nanivinsmoke - Mean old logan can’t help but to push the best thing away in his life. and you can’t help but to let go of your worst. Like the first time by @eufezco - It has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him. Look at me by @silverskyeline - Logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. Never is a broken promise by @joelsgoldrush - You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver. The grave of lust by @moonlight-prose - When his body doesn't work as it used to and the weary bones that poison his soul begin to ache, you take the lead in a dance you know well. Sweetness of the damed by @moonlight-prose - When night falls and wine overflows in glasses of crystal, logan finds his home in between your thighs. Road trip stop by @fake-bleach - Taking a small road trip where you’re halfway to where you need to be, and you're bored out of your mind. unluckily for you, your boyfriend won't possibly give into your antics. Quiet drive by @wlwloverwrites - Logan likes quiet drives, but there’s only way that can happen when you’re sitting in the passenger seat. Sweet revenge by @eyesxxyou - After catching your boyfriend cheating, you and his father, Logan, go on a road trip to confront him, though, you don't make it far Oldman!Logan by @inkedells - Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing. Fix you by @logansbaby - Logan is dying. You both know it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept. Room for rent by @hauntedhowlett-writes - Logan finds a new roommate.

disclamer! none of these are my works all credit to the authors! Thank you, to every single one of you, for allowing me to fuck Logan Howlett, in every way imaginable. Y’all deserve your pussies ate from the front and back!

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, kidnapping, bondage

gn reader

Thinking about ex-military Yandere and how he doesn’t bat an eye over any of the things he does to you because it all pales in comparison to what he’s seen and done across the border. Ex-military Yandere, who’s only a bit older than you but seems a whole lifetime mature. Ex-military Yandere, who moves like clockwork, with veteran skill—like a rustless steel tool who knows exactly how to get the job done without any fuss. 

He sneaks into your home in the dead of night, triggering no alarms, and has you zip-tied and duct-taped like a hostage before you can even make a sound, then thrown in the backseat like he’s driving you out into the desert to put a bullet in your head. 

You’re convinced he’s a paid bounty hunter of some sort and that you’ve been taken for ransom by god-only-knows who—but that theory dissipates over time—you wish that had been all it was. 

He keeps you in the basement, in some type of doomsday prep bomb shelter. The knives and guns mounted behind a thick sheen of glass under a dozen locks and keys tell you enough about how not to mess with him. Still, you put up a meager fight when you realize what he means to do to you. 

A steel bed is what he takes you on. The mattress is thin, and the cold metal bites clean through it. And still, his touch seems tougher, holding you like he’s never held anything soft before—with a vicious grip like he’s catching prey bare-handed.

You’re tied tighter than need be—every limb immobilized—wrists bound behind your back, and your legs in a crossed knot that’s fixed to your throat like a chain and collar, keeping your thighs folded against your chest.

Even if your mouth wasn’t gagged, you’d only be able to squeak with the way he pounds away at you like it’s the literal end of the world.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Toji, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Daichi, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Ushijima, Ukai ♡ AOT – Eren, Levi, Erwin, Zeke ♡ DS – Akaza, Inosuke, Sanemi, Genya ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[rabbit-flaying]

Actually this is a fantastic writing exercise for understanding your villains point of veiw. No one does things strictly because they're a bad person. They always think they're right and sometimes the logic is wack.

my guys, what would your whumpers write if they they were on the subreddit am I the asshole?

[fancyfeathers]

Okay so I see a lot of Yandere!Batfam with a darling who is one of the children in the family but what I don’t see is Yandere!Batfam with two darlings, a single mother with a daughter.

Based on this quick post I made (link)

Like just picture the mother!darling being a rich sweetheart of Bruce Wayne’s at one point, perhaps even being his fiancé bit was the engagement was called off by her because of his work as Batman. She did not want her husband keeping secrets from her, and then imagine if they had a child one day, what sort of life would it be for them?

Well that question certainly comes to life when she finds out she is pregnant just days after leaving Bruce. She has far too much pride to go back to him and scared what life her baby would live with their father being in danger every night. She gives birth and raises her daughter herself, beginning to travel in the world for her work, leaving Gotham just as Bruce takes in Dick Grayson.

Years go by and she raises her own child and Bruce takes in his own children. Of course they hear about each other in the press but really have not paid much mind until she is back in Gotham, attending a charity event at a hotel. Her daughter is up in their hotel room, asleep or so she hopes anyway, and she is sipping on a glass of champagne while making meaningless small talk and then like as if out of a scene from a movie both she and Bruce spot each other from across the room. Conversation between the two is unavoidable especially with Dick trying to push the two together but it is sour quickly with her quietly chewing him out for choosing his vigilante identity over her and-

“Ma’am, your daughter just woke up, a nightmare.”

The conversation is cut short by one of the hotel staff speaking out to her while holding a little girl’s hand who is standing there in her nightgown, eyes full of tears while she clutches her stuffed animal. Bruce just watches as his ex-fiancé takes care of her daughter, his daughter, excusing herself from the party to put her back to bed. Then when the end of the party comes and people have started to leave he finds her again and asks her the question…

“Is she mine? Your daughter…”

“…Yes… she is… I-I am sorry Bruce, I have to go.”

She runs off upstairs and he is just left there starstruck and with his own kids not too far away and listening into their conversation. So when they all arrive back at the manor Bruce is due to give an explanation about the woman who is the mother of Bruce’s daughter, Damian’s half sister, and who might as well be the little sister of the rest of the lot.

So with a bit of planning the kids come up with a way to add a few people into their family, a mother and a little sister…

Dick goes to visit them at the hotel, calling beforehand and asking her to meet husband in the hotel lounge to talk. He tries to convince her to come back, her daughter needs to know who her father and brothers are, and Bruce misses her and she cannot deny that she love Bruce at one point and-

That plan goes up in flames as she runs upstairs, rejecting Dick’s idea.

Then that falls to plan B with Jason.

This wasn’t actually intended to be a plan, just Jason keeping an eye on the little girl from afar to make sure nothing happened to her while she was out with her nanny, after all Gotham is a dangerous place. She and her nanny were just supposed to be out running errands before they leave Gotham but she just happened to be separated from the nanny and alone in the dangerous streets. It is only a matter of time before someone tries to snatch her up, the daughter of a rich woman, she would be perfect to hold for ransom. Luckily Jason, or rather, Red Hood is there in time to save her, telling her to go in the corner and cover her eyes while he deals with them. He hushes her as he wraps her up in his jacket, telling her to keep her eyes shut as he carries her out of there, he doesn’t want her to see the pools of blood he is walking through as he is carrying his little sister out of there.

Then when he returns to Wayne Manor with her, Damian looks after her while Jason explains what happened to Bruce. It isn’t safe for them, she could have been killed or worse if it wasn’t for him. Eventually Bruce caves and agrees to their plan of getting them both back.

Bruce goes to go see his ex-fiancé who is in a state of panic because her daughter is missing. Bruce sits her down and tells her daughter is safe and taken care of at Wayne Manor but there is a problem, her daughter’s kidnapping will be seen as child neglect if Bruce chose to file for custody of his daughter. If that was not enough to get her cave in he shows her a file of blackmail Tim had gathered on her which also shows old not look good to the court, so he asks her one thing with only one answer to it…

“Will you marry me?”

“…fine…”

Then not to far down the line there is a white wedding that should have happened years ago, and as Bruce and his wife exchange rings, say I do, and kiss, their children watch…

Her daughter is not a fool, she knows something wrong, she just has no way of telling anyone as Dick holds her on his hip as if she weighs nothing, and Jason fixes her flower girl dress for the pictures that Tim is already taking and has been throughout the ceremony.

[trashbaget]

also, why is ben barnes in jail now?? what the hell is t mobile doing to that man