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makethatelevenrings · 7 months ago

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Torture and Trust // S. Riley x f!reader

warnings: waterboarding, reader is physically hit and tortured, reader is threatened with sexual assault in one (1) line, canon-typical violence, swearing

A part two to this but also doesn't need to be read before this. I'm kind of making a little universe in my head but idk. We vibin'.

It was the shock of cold water smashing against your face that woke you up. To be honest, you weren’t really asleep. You had been drifting between the space between consciousness and sleep, lured there from a few nasty hits to the head and exhaustion.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission before the rest of the team came in to aid the retrieval of an asset. It was a warehouse tucked away in the streets of Tokyo that was apparently the hub of a human trafficking ring. MI5 had tasked the military to dispatch a SpecOps team since British citizens were targeted, something that had you grumbling under your breath because it shouldn’t take someone’s fucking citizenship to determine if they needed help. Explosives would be a bad idea considering how metropolitan the area was, even if it wasn’t very busy in this area. So you and Lieutenant Riley were tasked with figuring out a solid entry point and a tally of guards.

Simon had agreed to split up so he could canvass the west side of the building and see how many guards were stationed while you took the east side. It just so happened that the second-in-command to shithead in charge himself spotted the flash of your rifle scope and the next thing you know, you were strapped to a chair in the middle of the warehouse.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath and you let out a small laugh as you regarded the two men in front of you. Being in the SAS, you were no secret to torture. Everyone knew that one step of the training was to go through seventy-two hours of pure hell and sleep deprivation to see who broke and who didn’t. This was child’s play compared to that.

“Your swing is getting better,” you said through bloodied teeth. “But that follow through is what we need to work on.”

A hand fisted in the back of your head and shoved your forward, directly into the trough of water they had placed in front of you. Waterboarding was always an interesting exercise. You knew it was coming and had inhaled sharply, focusing your attention on anything but the air slowly leaking from your lungs as he held you in there for maybe a minute. Your thoughts drifted to other things, like the ramen you and Simon split in the safehouse the night before. It had been a few months since he grew comfortable enough with taking the mask off in front of you so now you savored the few moments you saw of his face. He seemed almost tentative without his mask, as though he was aware of how beastly his scars made him look.

You pondered over if he knew just how beautiful he was.

They yanked you back out of the water and you didn’t know what time it was. It was certainly darker than it had been when you were first nabbed from your lookout point. Certainly long enough that Simon was aware of your predicament. So that meant you were running out of time. Two in front of you, three guards behind. Your hands strained against the rope and duct tape mixture that bound your wrists and ankles to the sides of the chairs.

“Who do you work for?” the boss hissed. You blinked up at him innocently through the water that clung to your lashes and shrugged.

“Can’t a girl just chill around here? God forbid women do anything.” You braced yourself for a hit that never came. Instead, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your teeth to clack together with a sharp jolt and a bite to your tongue, adding more blood to mix with the cuts already present from the lackluster punches delivered earlier.

“Not with that level of weaponry. Try again.”

“You got me. I’m one of Santa’s elves and he wanted to make sure you were being a good boy this year. I’d hate to let him know that-” Your words were cut off as you were shoved back into the water. Ramen. How many meals had you two shared at this point? He had even started bringing you dinner to your office since he could take his mask off there rather than in the chow hall. You wouldn’t lie, you were starting to get tired. Your lungs burned from the fight to breathe and inhale the water, but you tried to shut off the small part of your brain that sent up signals of panic.

You didn’t need to worry, you reminded yourself. Just hold on a little longer.

“If you don’t start giving me real answers, maybe I’ll let some of our clients get it out of you. They’d love that,” the boss snarled when you were let up for air. Your gut tugged uncomfortably at the implication. It was always something that you had to keep in the back of your mind. Being a woman, military or not, always meant that it was a threat held over your head, simply for existing. It was why you were so eager to destroy their whole operation.

“How about you go fuck yourself?” Gathering up the blood and spit in your mouth, you forced your tongue back and then spat the putrid mix all over his face and the pristine white collar of his shirt. Rage flickered across his face and he stood up straight.

“Get me the pliers. If she won’t talk, we’ll make sure she screams.”

Well, you mused, what was a few less nails and teeth except less maintenance?

As his little goon walked off to whatever evil lair table of doom they had set up, your ears tuned into the silence around you. The typical sounds of the city met your ears, along with…there.

“I’m afraid, boys, that you’re out of time,” you said softly. A smile tugged painfully at your swollen and cut lips but you pushed past the pain. “This has been fun, truly, but I can’t lie and say I’ll miss you.”

The boss’ hand was heavy on the back of your neck as he held you down into the water. Even through the distorted splashes and fuzziness in your mind, you could hear five audible pops. You knew what they saw in their last moments. You knew that the Ghost emerged from the shadows, steps silent despite the fact that he was more muscle than man, and you knew that these men felt fear seconds before a bullet silenced their cruel minds.

He tugged you up out of the water and you inhaled deeply, the sound harsh and grating on your sensitive ears. Blinking the water out of your eyes, you came face to face with a mask that most said elicited a bone deep terror in them.

But not you.

“Right on time,” you panted. He said nothing as he cut the bindings holding you down and inspected the way that they had rubbed some of your skin away, leaving it tender and bleeding. Simon turned to look at the leader of all of this and you realized that he didn’t kill him. The man was dragging himself towards his discarded gun on the ground, blood oozing from his ruined kneecap. Ghost stalked towards him and lifted him up and away from his weapon. He regarded the little weasel coolly and then glanced back at you. You tried to push yourself up and out of the chair but your legs shook under you and instead, you collapsed back against the metal.

“Warehouse is clear,” Soap announced as he, Gaz, and Price entered. “Christ, bonnie, you look like shite.”

“You charmer,” you muttered. Gaz rushed to your side to help you up and you were grateful for your team. Your friends.

“This him?” Price asked as he joined Simon.

“Yeah.” It was the first time he’d spoken since he entered the building. “Keep him alive. I want to be the one to interrogate him.”

If it were anyone else, Price would agree. But seeing the slight tremor in Simon’s hands where he gripped the man’s suit jacket and then looking over to where Gaz was supporting your half-conscious form, he knew that putting Simon alone in a room with the man would result in a very messy clean up.

“We’ll worry about that when we get them back to base,” Price said. “We need to get her to medical.”

Four days into your medical leave and you were growing antsy. Soap and Gaz tried to keep you entertained and Price offered you an opportunity to yell at some cadets, but you were bored. You missed moving your body more than just the walk from your room to your office to the chow hall and back. But the doctor had threatened to strap you to a bed for a week while you let your body get back to normal after, and her words were, “you got your shit rocked. I know you SpecOps bastards think you’re invincible but anyone would need to take a fucking break after being tortured.” So, here you were, sitting in your office and writing up a mission plan for another team because Price knew you were getting twitchy without anything to do.

Two knocks, sharp and perfunctory, caught your attention. You called for whoever it was to enter, but you already knew who it would be. How many times had he laid that same knock upon your door? You once said that he might as well move into your office and he had regarded it for a moment thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely considering it.

“Four days of silence from you. Thought I did something wrong,” you commented lightly as Ghost entered and shut the door behind him. He didn’t take his usual seat, the plush wheelie chair you invested in when you joined the team and realized that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Simon dropped a tray onto your desk and then stalked away, his shoulders tense and bristling like a scared cat.

A quick glance at the time confirmed that your trap had worked. He always noticed if you missed a meal, usually because you were invested in something you were working on. Everyone had their own quirk or vice and that was yours.

He brought you beef stew over rice, a quintessential British meal that was surprisingly appetizing despite the cook’s minimal care. A shiny red apple sat beside it and, as if he read your thoughts, Simon whirled around and yanked it off of the tray. He extracted a knife from his pocket and started to carve the apple into slices that he dropped onto the tray and then turned around and began to stare at the wall once more. You simply grabbed one of the slices and chewed on it while waiting for him to speak.

“That was stupid,” his rough voice broke the silence. You scoffed and stopped chewing.

“What, getting captured? I didn’t fucking plan on it.”

“No. For not trying to escape.”

A dry, startled laugh escaped you and you scrubbed the heel of your hand over your forehead. “Five men with guns and me with nothing, tied to a chair. Yeah, fair chance of running without a bullet in the back.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t have to. I knew you were coming.”

He turned to glare at you from behind that infamous mask and you cocked your head to the side. “That doesn’t scare me, Simon, and you know it. Take the mask off.”

He hesitated and then reached up and yanked it off, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the scars around his mouth, and those freckles that speckled across his nose and cheeks. You could see him better and, therefore, read him better. His eyes told you he was angry. His tight jaw told you he was scared.

“You can’t just sit there and fucking die because you’re waiting for me, you can’t do that.”

“Why? You’re my teammate. I trust that you would come for me.”

“What if I hadn’t?” You shook your head at his question, at the absurdity of it. Was he hearing himself? Was he that consumed by whatever foolish notion that had somehow worked its way into his head? You pushed away from your desk and stood up so you could cross the floor to stand toe to toe with him.

“What if what if what if, fuck the what ifs, Simon. You. Wouldn’t. Leave. Me. Behind.” Each word was punctuated with a jab to his chest.

“And what if I had been injured, yeah? What then?” God, he was insufferable.

“You really mean to tell me that you wouldn’t crawl through broken glass to get to one of us.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Would you have this conversation with Soap or Gaz or Price? Then why are you so insistent about it with me? I was doing my job. Are you saying I can’t trust you? Trust my team? Because I can. I do. Don’t start telling me I shouldn’t.”

“You can. For fuck’s sake, you can.”

“You said it yourself, Simon, this job is dangerous and I knew the risks going in so I don’t know why you’re so insistent on thi-“

He tasted like nicotine and mint gum with maybe a hint of gunpowder, something so uniquely him. His lips pressed against yours with surprising gentleness and he cradled your face between his hands like you were the most precious glass figure he’d ever held. You fisted your hands in the lapels of his uniform jacket and sank into his touch. His fingers traced the skin of your cheeks, careful to not irritate the cuts you sustained days prior, and down to cup the back of your neck to draw you closer. A soft whimper escaped you at the sensation of his strong body pressing against yours.

You could easily hold your own in a fight, but the knowledge that this Adonis of a man was by your side through the hell of war was a comfort.

You needed to breathe but it wasn’t the painful reminder like it was when being tortured. His hands slid from your neck to cradling your jaw as you pulled away, settling back down on your heels.

“Don’t make me bury you,” he whispered, his forehead still pressed against yours.

You nodded, too dazed to say anything noteworthy. His thumbs stroked over your jaw and you blinked up at him.

“Was that a one time thing to shut me up or…”

“Fuckin’ insufferable, you are,” he grunted but leaned down to kiss you sweetly. There wasn’t much you could associate with Simon Riley and being sweet, but the tenderness in his touch made you want to hold him and keep him away from the world that had hurt him.

You felt his fingers brush against a nasty bruise on your jaw from a well aimed hit and saw his eyes darken.

“Did you question him already?”

“We’ve got a list of buyers that MI6 and Laswell are confirming right now,” he affirmed. Good. The mission was a success then.

“And how did you get this information?” you asked.

You met the gaze of the Ghost and didn’t flinch. He chuckled low and deep in his chest and tilted your chin up so he could see one of the cuts better.

“I did everything he did to you,” he said fiercely. "But I made sure it was permanent."

You moved your hand up to tangle with the short hair at the base of his neck and pressed your lips against his. Pulling back so just a small gap separated you, you murmured out a single sentence.

"I trusted you would."

#simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader

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storiesofsvu · 4 months ago

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One ask wasn't enough! So, how about these prompts, with Cabot?

"I can't sleep, can I stay here?" and

"Don't... I'm ticklish!"

Thank youuuu 🥰🥰

Thank YOU so much!! Here ya go!

Insomnia Strikes

Alex Cabot x reader (more implied than anything else lol) Warnings: mentions of anxiety/insomnia, I think that's about it. Just a nice little comfort one shot.

Being the natural night owl that you were, you never had any problems swapping shifts around when someone on the squad got roped into an overnight shift. You honestly didn’t mind it, you basically chilled alone, ate snacks, scrolled through your phone and answered a handful of phone calls that the desk clerk downstairs didn’t catch. It was a very rare occasion where something actually made its way to you prior to six in the morning and by then you were usually only on intake, passing it off to the day team before heading home. It was a nice little break from the chaos that the squad room and a courtroom normally were.

You spent the first few hours catching up on paperwork, finishing all the nearly late files, scrawling your signature across them before popping them into Cragen’s inbox. The squad slowly disappearing as late evening hit until only Olivia remained and you tossed a crumpled up piece of paper onto her desk, telling her to get out of there. You knew she liked to stick around as late as she could, not wanting anyone to really be trapped all alone in the building and she was quick to ask if you’d eaten dinner yet. You laughed, saying you had your breakfast before you came in and that she better get home to get some sleep. If she complained of being tired when you finally did have to call her in, you’d hold it against her. That finally got her going, giving you a warm smile as she wished you goodnight and finally left the precinct.

Once office lights began to flick off and the downstairs desk attendant clocked in things fell into a state of stillness, quiet and calm seeping through the air. Your paperwork was actually done, the most recent case you’d been working on waiting on the jury and you appeared to be free from actual work. So you started on the more mundane tasks, things that didn’t get done until you were on night shift. You started out by cleaning your desk, tossing out old receipts, crumpled up pastry bags, pencils that were so slivered down they couldn’t be used. Grabbing the collection of coffee mugs from the bull pen you headed into the break room, loading up the sink with hot soapy water to take care of the dishes in there. The cleaning crew usually came through around midnight, so you tackled the fridge, throwing out anything and everything that wasn’t labelled, had been in there for too long or seemed to be growing its own ecosystem.

After a very thorough hand wash, you wandered back to your desk, phone in your hand as you ordered some food for dinner, though maybe it was technically your lunch. Having no messages, calls or emails waiting, you pulled out your I-pad, sitting it on your desk as you settled back into your chair, pulling up your most recent binge. You were starting to get a little antsy twenty minutes in, your foot tapping against the floor over and over again. If it were day shift you’d usually caught a case or had to trek over to the DA’s office by now, but you were still just sitting there wishing you had an easier way to get your steps in. Your prayers were partially answered when the desk sergeant called up saying your food was there and you got to jog down the stairs to pay the driver before wandering back up them to your desk.

You ate a couple of slices, snagged a soda from the machine and set the box off to the side as you turned your attention back to the screen in front of you. The cleaning crew came and went, efficiently working through the space in no time, waving a friendly hello and then goodbye to you once they were finished. It wasn’t much later after that when you heard the shuffling of feet coming from the hallway and you glanced up, half expecting the desk clerk to be coming to take advantage of the vending machines. Your head tilted when instead you spotted Alex, loose leggings and a fuzzy sweater wrapped around her frame, hair messily tied back.

“Lex?” You greeted and her head lifted up, a small smile on her cheeks when she saw you. “What’re you doing here? Please don’t tell me you’re gonna have to go wake up a judge.”

“No.” She replied with a small huff, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple before pulling over a spare chair and dropping into it. “Tried your apartment first, neighbour said they saw you leaving for work late so I figured you were stuck on night shift.”

“And you thought I needed a babysitter?” You asked with a tease and she shook her head at you.

“Long day. I just wanted to make sure I got to see you at some point.” She yawned, her hands sneaking under her glasses to rub furiously at her eyes.

“You could’ve just called.”

She glanced up at you, a nervous look in her eyes as she chewed on her lip for a minute before letting out a breath, “I can’t sleep. Can I just stay here?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, reaching out to squeeze at her knee, “course you can. Did you at least try to sleep? Or were you still up on the couch pouring over case files?”

“I did.” She revealed with a sigh, “stared at the ceiling tossing and turning for almost four hours before I gave up. My brain just won’t shut up.”

“Did you take your meds?” You asked and she glanced up at you with a sheepish look on her face, softly shaking her head.

“I ran out on Monday; didn’t realize I was so low and I couldn’t get an appointment for a refill until next Tuesday. I took the anxiety one at eight and doctor’s orders say I can’t take melatonin with it, so I’m just kinda out of luck.”

“Shit.” You frowned, squeezing at her leg again, “next time we’ll make sure you always have an immediate refill on hand.”

“Thanks.” Her hand caught yours, squeezing it softly as she smiled across at you.

“You eat?”

“Wasn’t really hungry.” She shrugged, “had a granola bar.”

“How about you dig into this,” you tugged the pizza box from the other side of the desk, flipping it open in front of her and when the smell wafted over to she felt her stomach begin to grumble. “I’ll see what they have for tea in the break room.”

Leaving a kiss on the top of her head you left her to it, commenting for her to change the Netflix to whatever she wanted while you were gone. Digging through the break room you were pleasantly surprised to find a box of chamomile tea, turning on the kettle and brewing a mug exactly the way Alex liked it. When you crossed back into the bull pen she was curled up in the spare chair, your NYPD hoodie you normally stashed in the lower drawer of your desk draped over her lap as her hands played with the fraying cuffs.

A warm smile overtook your features as you placed the mug down in front of her, kissing her cheek again before reminding her to eat. With a tired sigh she finally leant forward, taking a slice of pizza, a pleased groan leaving her when she found it still warm.

She’d chosen one of your mutual favourite comfort movies, a classic rom com with no drama or terribly corny jokes set in the city you’d made your home. She ate her slice and sipped at her tea while she watched, relaxing into your side as she did so. You had to answer a couple of texts over the course of the hour but otherwise you were pleasantly occupied and comfortable. There were about five minutes left in the movie when she was fully slumped on your shoulder, you could feel her steady breathing and were certain her eyes had finally closed even if she wasn’t asleep yet. Your fingers poked gently at her side and she grumbled, flinching away from your touch without moving her head off your shoulder.

“Don’t. I’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “lets get you to the crib, you can get some actual sleep.”

“Come with me?” She finally looked up at you with sapphire puppy dog eyes and a pout on her lips. You smiled softly, letting out a breath of a laugh.

“Okay, but only ‘til you fall asleep. I am on duty after all.”

“Fine.” She scowled, yawning, her eyes still drooping as she reluctantly stood from the chair, your hoodie still curled in her arms.

Alex shuffled away to the bunk room, letting herself in and leading you to the bunk burrowed in the corner. You grabbed a couple of extra pillows and blankets, making sure she was more than comfortable, tucked in and relaxed as she curled up on her side face you. Perched on the edge of the bed you smoothed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear as her eyes fell shut again, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you.” She murmured; her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Anytime baby.” You whispered back, fingers trailing across her cheek before you kissed her forehead.

By the time you’d sat upright she was out like a light, soft snores echoing through the small room and a small smile crept onto your lips. Pulling out your phone you quickly set an alarm so she would have enough time to get home and get dressed properly for the day before having to return to the DA’s office and quietly made your way from the room. You knew it wasn’t much, but it really was the little things, knowing that whenever Alex was fighting a bout of insomnia she found solace and relief in you, that no matter where you were, she would eventually be lulled into comfort and thus sleep as long as you were around.

________________________

@mickey-gomez @cabotfan42 @detective-giggles @red1culous @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @mspetey @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @mysticfalls01 @littlegaybabe @bumblebear30 @wosoimagines @solemnnova @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @momlifebehard @poisonedcrowns @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @7thavenger @disneyfan624 @msvenablesbitch @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @riveramorylunar @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy @chimnlex @maximoffcarter @sapphicqueenofdonuts @ralla-ralla @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts

#alex cabot #alex cabot x reader #law and order svu #alexandra cabot #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #insomnia strikes #alexandra cabot x reader

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter V

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

''Stop looking at me, Johnny.'' Your voice is strained, currently being crushed by the mass of pure muscle currently laying on top of you.

''Cannae keep my eyes off of ya, doc.'' You roll your eyes, attempting to change positions before giving up. The man is not going anywhere.

''Or your hands. Let go of me.'' You gather the strength to try to push him away again, just for Johnny to make himself heavier and shoot you a cheeky smile. As if being woken up by the man running into your room and crushing you wasn't bad enough, he was refusing to let go or move, arms wrapped around you tightly, legs caging you in.

''Next time I'm letting you die.'' You sigh, stopping the struggle just for your best friend to lay down next to you, an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

''Saved my life out there, bonnie.'' The man is like a golden retriever and it's practically impossible to resist his charms, not when he has been in a coma for two whole weeks after the surgery, leaving you alone with the rest of the team. Your hand comes out of the blanket to gently pat his cheek before your arms are wrapping around his neck, bringing him closer, foreheads pressed together.

''I kinda missed you, you know?'' His arms wrap around your waist as he brings you even closer, hearts pressing together. He sighs, looking away before looking back at you.

''Thought that was the end of me, doc. Fuckin' Makarov got away an' I get a bullet to the heid.'' Johnny has always been an open book, anger and frustration clear on his face, yet his eyes showed the fear he felt at the idea of being an inch from death. Your chuckle brings his attention back to you, eyebrow raising in a display of attitude only Gaz can surpass.

''Took me 12 hours to bring you back, Johnny. Got help from Ghost for the chest shots, but your head...? If anything that shouldn't be touched was messed with, we could have lost you— or made you into more of an idiot.'' He playfully tugs on a strand of your hair, a small smile on his lips, yet his eyes were just as haunted as before. He took a deep breath before holding you closer, your face buried on his chest, warm hand on the back of your head.

'''t was scary, bonnie. Thought I'd wake up in hell with all the fannybaws I've killed.'' A dry chuckle escapes his lips as he lets go of you, giving your forehead a small kiss before getting up from bed, looking around your room before his blue eyes go back to you.

''Thank you. For saving me.'' Your gaze softens as you look up at him, finally getting up from bed and gently patting his shoulder, looking at the small patch of hair that had to be shaved off in order to have more space to operate.

''Should have shaved that stupid mohawk while I was at it.'' He gives you an overexaggerated look of mock offense and you grin up at him, happy to at the very least, have your best friend back. He's not ready to be out on the field yet, so you can already expect him to be bothering you or Simon as much as possible.

His hand drapes over your shoulder as he guides you out of your quarters and drops you off in an interrogation room, your eyebrow raising as you look up at him for an explanation.

''L.Ts teaching you how to interrogate people. Said something about ye becoming more involved in field work.'' You don't question it, knowing if anything happens to the team while out on a mission, you'd have to take over. Johnny gives you a smug smile as he walks away, fully aware of what at the very least seemed to be Ghost's attraction to you.

You open the door just to see him already waiting, sitting on an old chair with rope held in his hands. His brown eyes immediately go to yours, softening slightly as he offers you the rope. He knows it's a bad idea, but at the same time, he wants to ensure you know as much as possible about psychological warfare, even when it's completely different from your field. It's an excuse to spend extra time with you, that much is clear— but he also knows you're a fast learner.

''Simon.'' There's a smirk threatening to tug at your lips as you grab the rope, already getting on with tying him up. It's something you're very familiar with, not needing further instructions and ignoring the way his muscles tense up slightly in mild surprise as your hands move with pure expertise as if this is nothing but a second nature to you.

It takes a few minutes until you're done, looking down at the artwork with the perfect muse— there's a knot tied up on top of Ghost's chest, rope running over his chest in three different sections, uniting where his hands are tied behind his back. The rope goes up, binding his mid-section to the back of the wooden chair. His thighs are held apart with the tight rope, ankles tied to the front legs of the chair, his prominent bulge standing out even more with the tightness your knots have.

''Right.'' He interrupts after you stare at him for a second too long, already feeling the sweat pooling up on his forehead underneath the balaclava.

''You already got the intimidation part down, so let's move with torture. In that table there's tools you can use on me. When interrogating the enemy... make sure you start slow before you build up on the most damage you can do without killing. Anything is fair game in this field, love.'' He looks down before looking back up at you, trying to keep his eyes from wandering as he looks at you in civilian clothes for the first time.

''Torture, psychological tactics of intimidation, even amputation, if you're not afraid of being discharged.'' He's clearly joking about the last part, but his voice remains serious as he focuses on the task at hand.

''Go get something from there and try to make me talk. I'll be an enemy holding back information, get it out of me.'' He gestures to the table with his head and you hum in acknowledgement. The corners of your lips tug into a smirk as you see it— a red candle among the many different tools, a zippo lighter you recognize as his right next to it.

''Interesting.'' He doesn't even have to look to know what caught your attention. Your hand reached out for the lighter, flicking it on and staring at the flame for a few seconds before looking over your shoulder, gaze catching his. His eyes follow your movements, from the way you slowly walk up to him, to your hands lifting up his shirt, wrinkling the fabric together underneath the knot of the rope, his strong body exposed.

His breath hitches when your cold finger trails up and down from his abs to his chest. He watches you light up the candle, waiting until the wax starts to melt before slowly tipping the candle closer and closer, pausing before the burning flame makes contact with his skin, waiting for his approval. All he can do is stare down at you and nod his head once.

Your eyes focus on his strong torso, tipping the candle until the wax began slowly dripping into the pale skin, muscles flexing underneath. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to not give you a reaction despite the burning pain on his sensitive skin.

''That all you got?'' He challenges and that does nothing but make the dangerous glint in your eyes dance along with the fire. Your hand goes higher, tipping the candle again until a new bead of wax drips down his chest, not a single sound coming out of him besides his heavy breathing.

''Not yet.'' There's a small smirk on your lips as you notice the jolt that runs through his body, flinching slightly when the hot wax lands on his nipple, yet he still doesn't let out any sounds of struggle. His rock-hard cock twitches in his jeans, another deep breath coming out of him as the muscles on his stomach flex involuntarily. He takes his eyes off of you when the wax drips onto his other nipple, staring at the ceiling as he tries his best to calm down, body shifting in discomfort as much as possible despite the rope binding his whole body to the chair.

''Try harder.'' He orders, gravelly voice growing deeper. A small snicker escapes your lips at his words, nodding your head. From this angle you can see how his pupils dilate, the black specks quickly overpowering his dark brown eyes.

Your free hand travels from the now dried wax, all the way down to his jeans, fingers neglecting his hard cock and undoing his belt instead. His eyes snap back down on you, yet he doesn't deny you. You pull his cock out with your free hand, freeing him from the tight fabric before you let it go, allowing the thick shaft to rest on his abdomen. The candle goes up again, teeth softly biting on your lower lip out of excitement as you look at the red wax drip on his shaft.

''Fuck.'' His stare is firm, but the moment the wax touches his skin, he winces in pain. There it is. His head leans back on the chair, eyes closing tightly as more wax drips all over his painfully hard cock.

''Stay with it... It's nothing.'' He reassures himself, voice nothing short of a pathetic whimper. He shifts his body as you start letting the wax drip higher and higher, movements slow and calculated. He shifts his body, trying to escape the searing hot pain of the wax yet being unable to.

''Fuckin' amateur.'' He spits out, eyes opening to look down at you. His muscles are tensed, jaw clenching underneath his black balaclava. You can see a drip of sweat spill down from his masked forehead, moisture gathering at the bits of skin you can see from his face, eye black looking shinier than before.

''You seem to be enjoying what this amateur is doing, sir.'' Your words are taunting, clearly trying to get a reaction out of him, yet he gives you nothing other than a soft, low moan, half-lidded eyes looking down at you intensely. Your smirk grows at his silence, looking down at the hardening layers of wax all over his thick cock.

''You wanted me to break you, so I will.'' You watch the wax drip down to his glistening tip, mixing in with his precum. He can't help the way his body thrashes against the rope, trying to get away from the pain as a deep moan of pain escapes his lips. You say nothing this time, simply moving the candle around, angling it up so the dripping wax lands on a different part of his tip.

''Fuck! H- I cant—'' He whines out, eyes closed tightly as his body reacts involuntarily. He's still struggling against the rope, yet he doesn't have it in him to ask you to stop.

''That's all you can take?'' You taunt with fake pity and he inhales sharply, beads of sweat running down his forehead, pain showing in his face even when the balaclava is covering it. He finally lets out a quiet whimper, eyes struggling to remain open simply to stare down at you as he always does, yet there's no confidence behind them anymore.

''Do better.'' He's clearly trying to spite you and it works. Your free hand comes up to flick his tip harshly and this time, he doesn't fight himself, a low moan of pain and pleasure escaping his lips. His hips thrust up slightly and in that moment you know— Ghost's resolve is being broken.

''Fuckin'... hell.'' He moans out, bound hands behind his back becoming tight balls, veins bulging in his arms. His head tilts back when he feels a new drop of wax falling on his tip. He can't help it, really, the way his hips thrust up in nothing but pure desperation, ropes of thick white cum staining his abdomen as he groans out in a mix of pain and pleasure, muscles flexing underneath your touch.

''I win, Simon.'' Your taunt does nothing to him other than to make more cum spurt out of his throbbing cock, looking down at him in a mix of amusement and fake pity. Your gaze connects to the pair of wide brown eyes staring at the scene through a half-opened door, cock throbbing in his pants.

A/N: fun fact! Vamp was created with K-9 in mind, but I couldn't keep the idea in my drafts for long enough to use it in this fic so it was published as a one-shot. I decided to use the one-shot in this chapter, as things will get more interesting in the next ones!<3

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eff4freddie · 4 months ago

Text

After She Left | Seven

Words: 7k Minors DNI

As it becomes increasingly clear Sarah's mom is here to stay in Jackson, you realise whatever's going on with you and Joel needs to stop. It's fine, because you've already decided you're not that sad about it. Telling Ellie you can't tutor her anymore, though...that one's going to be tough.

Chapter warnings: Finally get to some of the SMUT team! Oral (f receiving), tiny little bit of dirty talk

A/N: Things are still a little bit crap for me but writing has actually been a nice release (heh). I know some people aren't feeling super safe around here at the moment, but I want to reiterate you will always be safe with me. And in the meantime I will just keep writing my angsty smut for my own amusement, and suggest ya'll do, too.

Six | Series Masterlist | Eight

The new arrivals cleared quarantine in 48 hours. The two men, Wren and Steven, were put up in a share house with a few of the other men around town but Shauna was given her own place, a studio out the back of Tommy’s, nothing much more than a converted garage. Joel didn’t understand why Tommy wanted her so close, and also understood exactly, seeing as how he wanted to both crawl out of his skin when he thought of her, and also into her chest.

He waited exactly a day and a half after she settled into her studio before knocking on her door. The evening was just settling in, and it had been a warm day, the kind of day that gives you a warning of the summer about to descend. She wasn’t even surprised when she opened the door to him. Just beckoned him inside, pushed some old blankets off a chair and pulled it out for him.

The place had a long window running up near the ceiling to let the light in, but other than that it was cool, dark.

‘You’ll need heat in the winter,’ he said, smelling mildew. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had been back here. Tommy didn’t even use it to store his tools.

‘You got any suggestions?’ Shauna asked, smiling thinly at him.

‘Move into a better place,’ he replied.

She snorted. ‘Figure I got a couple of months to figure that out I guess,’ she replied.

‘So you’re stayin’? You settlin’ in?’ Joel asked her, firing questions at her like an interrogation, hearing it in his voice, the sadness and the fear and the sound of something tinkling at the bottom of a well.

‘Don’t know, Joel,’ she replied, sitting heavy on the bed while he stood up, took three or four paces before he had to turn around and pace back again. There was a bare bulb hanging in the middle of the room. He checked for outlets, found a few where you could set up a nice lamp. He had one she could borrow, over by the bed, so she could read of a nighttime.

‘Fuck, Shauna,’ he started, and she shrugged at him. ‘You had no idea I was here?’

‘How could I have, Joel?’ she asked. In the half-light the curls of her hair glowed around her head like a crown. He could remember the smell of Sarah’s shampoo, the first time he’d been able to recall it in years.

‘Twenty-five years and you happen to head here?’

‘Of all the gin-joints…’ she started, but he raised his hand to stop her. He couldn’t do jokes right now. He couldn’t do much but gawp at her and try and get his brain to stay with him, here in this moment, in this little garage at the end of the Earth.

‘I just…I never thought I’d see you again.’

‘I know, baby,’ she said, and he winced a little at the nickname. She caught it, cheeks red at the habit. ‘Sorry,’ she said, when he glared at her. ‘Mistake.’

‘What do we do now? How do we do this?’ he asked, turning to her. She had always been good with the decisions. Had made him eat healthy, not stay out too late, had filled his head with ambitions of owning his own business, of bringing Tommy on with him, showing him the ropes. He remembered then that she didn’t know he’d done it, that she’d been right, and he’d never let her have that. He opened his mouth to tell her, catching himself just in time.

‘I don’t know, Joel. Wren and Steve are here, and we’ve been a pretty tight crew for a while…’

‘You with one of them?’ he asked, and she smiled.

When she’d been pregnant, properly pregnant, her bump finally poking out from beneath her ribcage, Joel had developed a habit of resting his hand on it in supermarkets, out for dinner with Tommy and her parents, would follow her to the bar and rest his chin on her shoulder as she ordered a seltzer and a beer for him. Even then, barely out of school and struggling to grow into his limbs he was protective of her, possessive of her and the baby in her belly. There were times she could practically hear him chanting ‘my girls, my girls, mine,’ as she walked beside him.

‘It’s complicated,’ she said, after a while. ‘They’re brothers. I met them coming out of the QZ in Kansas, and its...well, y’know how brothers share.’

She watched as he reared back, his shoulders rising so fast he nearly knocked into his earlobes.

‘You’re with both of them?’ he asked, and he could hear how panicked he sounded, and couldn’t be certain what was behind it, but he didn’t like it, didn’t like Wren or Steven, didn’t trust ‘em.

‘Technically, Joel, I’m not with either of them. Not with with. Just…it gets cold on the sides of mountains. It gets hard to keep going. It’s about…securing the bond. Loyalty.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, cocking a knee and wresting his hands on his hips. ‘Are you…in some kind of sex cult with those men?’

‘Joel, you can not be this naïve. Not after twenty years in the apocalypse. You know women have to…we gotta survive.’

Thoughts of you popped up in his head, instant and unbidden. You hadn’t done any of that stuff, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t allow himself to imagine any different. He knew you’d been in a QZ for a while, but you’d been FEDRA, and that would have afforded you some kind of luxuries. Security. Fuckin’ loyalty.

He swallowed. He knew FEDRA were as bad as all the others, possibly even worse since they were armed. He knew what women had to do to curry favour with them. But not you, he decided. Not you, because you would have talked your way out of it, would have charmed them with your smile and your sweet, pretty face hiding your enormous, glorious brain. You would have figured out a way around it. You would have…you wouldn’t have…

‘Joel?’ Shauna called him out of his panic, and he swallowed down.

‘Ain’t judgin’ ya,’ he said, and she scoffed a little.

‘You sure about that?’

‘I can’t…imagine…’ he said, and he felt the heat on his cheeks now. He could imagine. He just didn’t want to.

‘Yeah, well…things were bad in Kanas. They got me out. I guess I was grateful to them.’

‘You ain’t movin’ in with ‘em?’

‘It served a purpose and maybe now it’s done? Besides, not sure Maria really understands, or endorses…’

Joel nodded, grunting his understanding. Jackson ran on family values, and scorching gossip. Maria would have done it to protect Shauna as much as to keep up appearances.

‘Joel, can we talk about her?’ Shauna asked, and he found himself shaking his head.

‘Can’t,’ he said.

‘Please, Joel, I just want to know how-’

Joel felt the switch flip in his brain, the one that meant he could talk about her while he slipped himself out of the way to let the facts through.

‘Army, military, the first night. I was gettin’ her out, me and Tommy, if we could just find a road. She was hurt but I had her. They…’

‘No, no,’ Shauna said, stopping him because she could see he had fallen into the vortex, that he was miles away now, years away, bleeding and scared and holding their girl in his arms. ‘No, I…I meant, I wanted to know how she grew up. What was she like, when she was a teenager?’

Joel swallowed, felt the tears in the back of his eyes, the strain across the back of his throat.

‘She was…’ he didn’t know how to describe her. Shauna had left when Sarah was 9. 10 years they’d spent together after they’d found out she was pregnant, trying to save a marriage that had barely been more than a high school romance. He’d known it wasn’t working, had known that he was hurting her by making her stay, but he couldn’t imagine a world where Sarah would choose him if her parents split, couldn’t bear the idea of his little girl splitting her time between two houses, two Christmases, two sets of books, two sets of school bags dropped by two different doors.

He'd underestimated them both. Shauna for her ability to just outright abandon them. Sarah for her ability to know that loving her mom meant setting her free.

‘She was brilliant,’ he said, after a while. ‘So smart, basically ran the household, kept me and Tommy in line. N’she was capable, could handle her own shit. I guess…she had to grow up pretty fast, but she did it, and she was sweet about it too. Made me drink my juice in the morning,’ at this Joel smiled, tears threatening to spill, Shauna’s eyes wet as she watched him. ‘She was a brilliant little girl, and she was turning into a beautiful woman.’

He cleared his throat, letting himself remember her head on his shoulder as he all but forced her to watch some shitty Western on TV. Carrying her to bed, tucking her in, praying she never got so big he couldn’t lift her anymore, then after she was gone praying one day, somehow, she would.

Shauna wiped the tear from her cheek. ‘I figured when she was older, when I had my life back together, maybe we could…reconnect,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Joel, I know I left you both, left you the most, but…’

‘You were already gone,’ Joel said. ‘All those years, you were never really in it.’

Shauna let out a quiet little sob. ‘I wanted to be,’ she said, and he could tell that she meant it, and also he didn’t care, could never really care, when he saw the chunk she took out of their daughter when she left them, watched as that brave little girl grew out of the scar.

‘She never asked about you,’ he said, and he wanted it to be comforting and he wanted it to be cruel. He wanted to hurt her, and he wanted to hold her, wanted her to know that he’d long given up on her, even before she left them, but that he had been holding on anyway, because he thought that was what you did when you had a kid.

Shauna gasped, letting out a little hiccup of sadness.

‘Is that true?’ she asked, and she fixed him then with a hurt on her face unlike anything he’d seen in a long while. No one walked around that sad for the world to see in a place that would kill you for any weakness. He swallowed down the bile burning at the back of his throat.

‘No,’ he said, because she had written letters every week for a year to her mother that he had never sent. Because each Christmas she wrapped up a little gift for her mother that she hid behind the tree down by the corner, where she thought he couldn’t see. Because each year on her birthday she waited for the mailman, sat with a book on her lap she was pretending to read while she watched out the window, and he had to see her face fall when all that got delivered was just bills and a lottery ticket from Uncle Tommy. She never said the fuckin’ words, but she asked for her mother every day.

He had hated Shauna for it. Had burned up all the energy he had left in him working to hide his fury from his little girl.

Looking at her now, sad and folded up against herself on the end of the bed he wondered what for. All those feelings, so hot and so bright and so sharp at the time now faded, now boxed up. He wasn’t even sure if this was the same person in front of him, the one who started taking shards of his heart the moment he met her, who stranded him with the weight of her absence over years.

He wasn’t sure if he hated her anymore for it. He wasn’t sure if he felt anything at all.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said, because she was still snuffling.

��I thought I was making it better for her, that she could finally be herself if I stopped crowding her. You know when two vines are planted in the same pot either one of them will strangle the other to survive? Only way to save them both is to get ‘em out.’

Joel watched her, understanding, not wanting to.

‘I didn’t want to…pull the life out of her anymore, Joel. I had to break the pot.’

He felt the creak in his knees, the old scar on his abdomen starting to ache from standing too long. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked down at his shoes to assure himself he was still on solid ground.

‘Yeah, well, you broke it,’ he said. Shauna nodded, pulling at her sling and wincing slightly. ‘You hurtin’?’ Joel asked, and she sighed.

‘Yeah, but Wren said he’d try and get me something from the infirmary. I told him not to bother. Don’t feel like I can ask for anything when we just got here.’

‘The town’ll be suspicious,’ he informed her, plainly. ‘Three of you in one go, s’a lot.’

‘I figured I could tell them I’m a Miller,’ she said, watching his face, the way it fell. He swallowed. ‘I mean, technically I still am.’

‘You ain’t been a Miller for years, even when we were still together,’ he said, and this time he didn’t want to hurt her so much as state the plain truth.

‘I know, but…could be useful in a place like this.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah, aged 9, at the doorway, peeking in at her separating parents, wondering out of her room for all the shouting. He blinked her away. ‘I won’t do it if you don’t want me to,’ Shauna continued.

He thought of you. Your warm classroom, the little wood figurines he’d carved for you lined up on the edge of your desk.

‘Don’t,’ he said, grim and firm and honest.

‘Ok, Ok,’ she said, raising her hands in defeat. She sighed, dramatic and maybe just a little for effect. ‘I’ll let the town hate me.’

He remembered what it was like to argue with her. How she’d end up bursting into tears and he’d rush to comfort her, always wrap his arms around her even if he still seethed, and afterwards he’d always wonder if she was actually sad or if it was only ever just to win a point. Worse, when he realised he didn’t care, didn’t feel anything, either way.

‘They might hate ya,’ he agreed. ‘But just until they discover your winnin’ personality.’ She examined his face, searching it for anger, for hurt. He grinned at her. Let her off the hook.

It wasn’t that you were sad, exactly, although some part of you knew that you were. It wasn’t that you were mourning, because you knew what that felt like, and besides which, you hadn’t lost anything, not really. It wasn’t that you were lonely, because you’d already decided not to be. It was just that for a second there, things had been different. There had been the prospect of something, and now it was gone.

You watched as Joel sat with Ellie, Tommy, Maria and now Shauna. Maria bouncing Robin, growing like a weed despite barely more than a newborn, on her knee while Ellie cooed at him, tried to spoon feed him stew. You couldn’t help noticing the way Shauna ignored him, the way she almost turned her back to the infant, to instead lean in close to the adults at the table. You were probably missing it. You were only stealing glances, after all.

Word had spread that the three were staying, and you knew that Wren was already out on patrols because you’d seen him go out with the morning group to check the perimeter. The other one, Steven, was apparently good with animals so he had been placed on stable duty. Shauna was helping out with the town council, doing admin and filing and things. It made sense, and it was easy work, and you wondered how she’d survived so long on her own without apparently being able to shoot or ride worth a damn, but it didn’t matter because it didn’t involve you, anyway, unless Shauna happened to decide she needed to redo grade school.

Joel didn’t look at you, and you didn’t want him to, you really didn’t, not at all. A few times Ellie waved you over and you had to pretend you hadn’t seen her. You should have brought a book with you to try and make it even vaguely plausible. You would remember, next time.

You just weren’t sure how you were going to tell Ellie that you couldn’t tutor her anymore. It didn’t feel fair that she had to lose out, but at the same time you knew you didn’t have it in you. The idea of sitting at Joel’s kitchen table, remembering his lips on yours, his arms holding you to his chest, his little gasp as he consumed you. Rose would have been able to carry on. You weren’t Rose.

You weren’t sure why you came down to the mess for breakfast. Normally you just grabbed an apple and ate it at your desk. As you left, you noticed some of Ellie’s stars were still strung up along the walls. You wondered if they would ever come down.

‘Didn’t you see me?’ Ellie asked, bounding up to at the end of the school day as you wiped the chalk from the board.

‘Pretty sure I’ve been seeing you all day,’ you said, and she made a face.

‘No, I mean this morning. You came by and then you sat on your own?’

‘Oh, you were there? Sorry, I had my mind on…the eggs. Just hadn’t had them in a while. Must have been craving it.’

‘Are you ovulating?’ Ellie asked, in that unnerving way she had of cutting you directly to the quick.

You paused, considering your answer for a moment.

‘I’m not sure why you ask,’ you said, eventually, settling for truth.

‘Craving eggs,’ Ellie shrugged, as if this was the most obvious explanation.

‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ you said, and then you paused, because to be honest your sex education also stopped around the end of the world. ‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ you clarified.

‘Well, whatever, I just wanted to ask you what time you wanted me for tutoring today. You didn’t tell me last time.’

You felt your heart rate pick up. Part of you had wondered if you just said nothing maybe she would forget.

‘Hey, I’ve been thinking about that,’ you said, smiling like you were about to bestow her with good news. ‘You’ve been doing some really great work, really strong, and I can see that you’ve come along so much.’

You paused for a moment, watching the pride break like a dawn over her face, wanted to take a mental photo of it, laminate it and stick it in your memory for eternity.

‘So yeah, I don’t think you need me anymore,’ you said, the smile feeling forced across your cheeks now, the strain in the muscle pulling across the back of your scalp.

You watched as her face collapsed, the light immediately shuttering away from it. You swallowed. ‘Tutoring, I mean…I don’t think you need tutoring,’ you said.

You knew Ellie was doing better socially, you could see she was more talkative in class, that she and Dina were edging their way towards friendship. But you knew, too, how much of a comfort it was to have routine after so long of living through chaos. That the two of you in the dying light of the evening waiting for Joel to finish cooking dinner so you could stop pretending that you were doing any work and take yourselves in to him, that there was a gift in that, that there was a prize in it, and that you were taking it back from her now, snatching it from her arms. You swallowed, heavy and tired and wondering if you were doing the right thing and knowing that you were. That it was necessity. That it was choice.

‘Oh,’ she said, and you nodded at her, smiling still, trying to keep her energy up, trying to dull the blow.

‘You really are doing so well, I’m super proud,’ you said, and then you felt wrong, like you were her mother when really, you realised, you had become her friend.

‘Is this because of Joel being a shithead?’ she asked, and you shook your head to hard and so fast you could hear your neck creak in protest.

‘No,’ you said, tightly, trying to regain your composure enough to get the girl over you and out the door. ‘No, it really is just that you’re…a superstar.’

‘So why don’t you want to keep going, then?’ she asked. ‘It’s not like I know everything.’

You had thought of this question, and had prepared an answer, and even though it wasn’t even remotely true you knew it would appeal to Ellie’s better nature, that it would work on her, and you hated yourself for it even as your mouth started to form the words.

‘It wouldn’t be fair on the other kids,’ you said, and she nodded her head, immediately understanding, immediately agreeing, immediately nailing the last of your self-worth to the floor beneath your feet.

‘Right,’ she said, but she was quiet, and she was backing away, and you saw that her face was closed off, and that she was turning inwards again, just like she had been when she first got here. You stepped towards her, but she was already out the door.

‘Thank you for everything,’ you called after her, and you realised at the same moment that you said it how final it sounded, and how trite. You had dismissed her, thoroughly. Had slammed the door behind her as she left.

For a long while after you stood in your classroom and surveyed the tables in front of you, the pictures on the wall, the photos you’d pulled from old, half-rotten Encyclopaedias and taped to the walls. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn, to see the wooden figurines lined up along the edge of your desk. You stood, instead, facing where Ellie had been minutes ago, half an hour ago, an hour ago.

You wondered if you could unspool time around you, just wind it down to a stop so that you didn’t have to move into the next moments, into the ones without her, without you at their kitchen table, without Joel’s warm eyes on your face as he spooned mac and cheese into your bowl.

Joel didn’t like that Wren guy, and he wasn’t too sure about Steven, either. He didn’t like the way Steven eyed off the women in the town, like he was figuring out how best to herd them, seeing as how he was apparently a cattleman. Wren, well he just got on too well with the rest of them, had fit right in with Guillaume, and he fuckin’ hated Guillaume. That was too strong, maybe. He just didn’t trust any of ‘em, when it came down to it. Preferred to be defending himself and his loved ones if it ever came down to it, if he had somehow failed to get them all far, far away.

He found himself turning over what Shauna had said as he surveyed them now, coming to the end of his shift on the wall. He wondered if that was really something women out there were doing, having to do, to keep themselves alive and he knew that of course they were, knew that as much as he had seen it in the raider camps he’d had the unfortunate luck to come across, but now Joel was wondering what kind of man would let a woman do it. What kind of man would let her make the offer, let alone accept it. He knew the answer to that one, too.

As his shift ended, he decided he’d go talk to Tommy about it. Tommy had a good read for things like this. Would have the sense Joel didn’t to see it straight.

Except that it wasn’t just Tommy when Joel got back to his little office, the room crowded again with half of the town council, Maria and Shauna sitting perched on Tommy’s desk.

‘Seems risky,’ Tommy was saying, and at this Shauna rolled her eyes.

‘Course it’s risky, but show me something that isn’t,’ she huffed. Joel recognised that tone, had it imprinted somewhere along his spinal column.

‘Don’t see why its necessary, we have everything we need here,’ Robert was saying. Joel liked Robert. Robert was steady and had survived the fifteen-some years on his own by living off the same ranch he always had with his wife of thirty-years. He only came off it when she died, and he found himself unable to justify working land that size for one man. Joel could respect that.

‘If we don’t keep pushing out, we won’t have everything we need for much longer. We need to…keep up,’ Shauna was saying. Joel caught Tommy’s eye, who was looking at him as if this was somehow his fault.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Joel asked, stepping forward and trying to ignore the way Shauna brightened when she saw him.

‘Town council meetin’,’ Robert said, ‘though as far as I can see it’s only half of us here.’

‘Not everyone was available at short notice,’ Shauna said, and he grunted at her.

‘That so?’ he asked. Joel watched his face carefully, as the older man gave absolutely nothing away.

‘I’ve got plans to expand, just an idea, really,’ Shauna said, backtracking when she saw Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Thought I should bring it in for…consideration.’

‘You ain’t been here five minutes,’ Tommy started, but Joel waved his hand and the younger brother immediately stopped. He wasn’t happy, Joel saw the way he rolled his shoulders, the little tic in his jaw Joel was fairly sure his little brother had learnt from him, but he quietened down, just the same.

‘Not for me to say,’ Joel said, trying his hand at post-apocalyptic diplomacy, ‘but that feels like something…if the town council thinks it has merit, mind…seems like something the whole of Jackson should get a vote on.’

He watched as Shauna’s smile faltered, for just a second, and Joel was surprised to find none of her tells had eroded over time. It wasn’t the answer she had hoped for, he could see that. What he couldn’t see was why.

‘We’ll call a proper meeting, with all the council, to consider it first,’ Maria said, definitively. ‘Now it’s dinner time, and some of us got family we need to get to. G’night, all.’

Joel saw Shauna move towards him, darting off Tommy’s desk and over to his side, but he was quicker than her, pulling away through the side door and out onto the street before she could get to him. He didn’t know why he did it, just that his brain stem had told him to get out of there. He felt a little bit sorry about it, but not enough to change his mind.

At home, he slipped his feet from his boots and left them by the door, calling out for Ellie as he stepped inside. She wasn’t at the table doing her homework, wasn’t on the couch reading her comics. He felt a little shiver of hope in his belly as he walked out the back, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of the two of you before it got too dark to work.

‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked, only a little bit hoping that he was, as he rounded the corner to the back porch. He stopped when he saw her, folded up against herself with her head resting on her knee. It took her a moment to notice him, so she didn’t turn her gaze to him right away. When she finally did he stuttered, saw that her eyes were red-rimmed as she furiously tried to wipe the evidence away.

Later that evening you dozed on your couch, finding yourself deserving of the strain in your neck and the ache in your lower back. You would eventually take yourself off to bed but for right now you had your blanket and some pulpy murder mystery you were starting to realise you’d read two summers ago.

The pounding on your door startled you, jolting you up and off the couch. You could feel your pulse roaring up your neck as you looked down at your trembling hands. You allowed yourself a second to catch your breath, another second to wonder if there was ever a future for you where you didn’t startle at the slightest sound. This wasn’t slight, though, and it was still coming from your front porch.

‘Hello?’ you called out, willing the panic to evaporate from your voice such that whatever burglar or murderer was trying to get in would immediately reconsider his actions and retreat.

‘Teach!’ Joel bellowed, and you took a step back, his anger striking genuine fear in your belly. ‘Open the damn door,’ he followed up when you didn’t reply.

‘It’s late, Joel,’ you said, not moving, and you heard his grunt of frustration.

‘Open!’ he demanded again, and you wondered how far he’d go if you let him, if he’d splinter the wood. You tried to shake the tremor from your hands as you moved towards the door, bracing yourself against the frame as you pulled it open.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ Joel asked, his eyes crackling with barely restrained fury.

You knew. Of course you knew, although you hadn’t expected him to be so angry about it. ‘She’s really doing so great…’ you started, but he wasn’t there to hear you out, wasn’t there to do anything other than chew your face off, it seemed.

‘Why…she’s barely talkin’. She’s over there all quiet at the kitchen table, won’t even swear or nothin’, tells me you said she don’t need you anymore?’

‘She doesn’t…’ you tried again, your voice feeble.

‘Ah, that’s bullshit,’ Joel said, and you faltered, casting your eyes down, unable to look at him. ‘You know it was more’n that.’

‘Joel, she’s a bright girl.’

‘You know what it’s like to lose someone?’ he asked you, and you reared back like he’d slapped you. ‘Because you actin’ an awful lot like you don’t.’

You could hear Rose in your ear, whispering at you to think for a second, reminding you that he was hurting, that he was worried for his girl.

‘You can’t fucking come here and ask me that,’ you said, instead, drowning Rose out. ‘On my fucking front porch? Fuck you.’

‘Fuck you,’ Joel shot back, shouldering his way further into the doorway while you planted your heels, squared your shoulders. You were furious now too, angry and hurt and wanting to tear his stupid gorgeous face off his stupid beautiful head. ‘She’s only ever had like…three people in her life she trusted, one she had to shoot, and the others is you and me.’

You didn’t hear him, not at first, priming an insult on the tip of your tongue, getting ready to spit venom and bile such that Rose had to scream over your shoulder to get your attention.

‘Wait…’ you said, faltering, ‘she had to what?’

But it was too late, now, Joel was too far gone, too angry, too hurt, too confused why he was telling you to fuck yourself when all he wanted was to carry you up to your bedroom and do it himself. Too surprised he was sitting at the table at the mess hall with fucking Shauna as if she hadn’t abandoned her daughter and him, as if Sarah didn’t matter, as if the loss could be erased just by her mother resurfacing. Too hurt for Ellie, too aware that it was hurt you had every right to inflict, that he had been the source of it, that you were just protecting yourself. Too sad and too old and too fucking tired for any of it. For parenting a teenager. For reparenting his daughter’s ghost.

‘You gonna stand there and tell me you don’t care about her?’ he was seething, barely hearing his own thoughts. ‘You gonna tell me you don’t care you’re ripping out her heart?’

For having you and not having you. For missing you and having to try so hard to look away from you in the mess hall.

‘Joel,’ you said, and suddenly your voice was so small, so far away. He looked down at you, saw that your eyes were wet. ‘What did she have to do?’

‘Let her tell you herself, if she’ll talk to you,’ he said, and he watched as your shoulders slumped.

Guilt, then. Already he could see he was snuffing out your light, your warmth. Not two minutes talking to him and you were drawn, pinched, folding in on yourself. He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep going to you just to push you away. ‘M’sorry,’ he said, all the adrenaline retreating to leave him woozy and sick. ‘That wasn’t fair.’

‘No, I get it,’ you said, sniffling.

‘She just…she’d been doing so well.’

‘She still will,’ you said. ‘She’s so tough, tougher than I ever…’

‘F’you could find your way to still work with her…’

‘…but I just can’t…it can’t be where…’

He was nodding, too, the two of you nodding at each other so neither would have to say the words, talking over each other so you didn’t have to hear your own thoughts let alone the other person’s.

‘It’s different, now,’ you said, and he knew it, agreed immediately, tasted bitter across his throat that told him just how much he didn’t want it to be true.

‘She has her eyes,’ Joel blurted, surprising you both. ‘Shauna. Has Sarah’s eyes.’

He looked at you from under his brows like he was asking you a question, and you supposed in a way he was. Asking you to understand that he had this piece of her, this fragment, that he couldn’t turn away. Asking you to hold it for him, the brightness and the heat of it, that part of himself still reverberating with the spark of her, with the love of her pierced through it, hold it for him lest it scorch him. Asking you to forgive him, to let him go.

‘Oh, Joel,’ you said, and you wanted to throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shirt, hold him as he shook with it, with the love and the loss and the grief of it, as it wrung him dry.

You took a step forward, holding out your hands to him. Without a second thought, he stepped away.

‘OK,’ you said, retracting your arms and wrapping them instead around your middle. ‘I’ll work something out with Ellie.’

‘Want us to still be friends,’ he said, barely scratching the surface of the things he wanted and knew he could never have.

You paused for a second, considering this.

‘We’ve always been friends, Joel,’ you said, after a while. You smiled at him, that same fixed grin you’d deployed on Ellie not six hours before.

You supposed it worked about as well as it did, then. In the circumstances, it would have to do.

Joel was cold. It was late, and it was dark, but his room had no business being cold like it was the dead of winter. He rugged himself up, put his jacket on over his old woollen pyjamas, blew hot air into his fingertips. Ellie had gone to bed after he’d got back, even if she’d been a little happier knowing you’d still agreed to work with her. He could read it on her face, knew Ellie better’n she knew herself in a lot of ways. It didn’t feel great that her Dad’d needed to go over and beg you to stay with her. He knew that, just as he knew the alternative was worse.

After she’d gone to bed he’d found himself wondering the house, trying to tread as light as he could so as not to disturb her, but still unable to still his hands. He considered going down to work the wall for a while, see if he could be of use, but coupled with his inability to stand still was also a bone-weary fatigue that would have made him dangerous up there. A herd of elephants with dynamite strapped to their bellies could have sidled up to the gate and he probably wouldn’t have clocked ‘em.

Up in his room he checked the window seals, looked for any lifting of the wall from the floor, checked the cornices for any gaps that could explain the cold. It made it impossible for him to settle, his bones jangling with the sharpness of the chill, his knee pulling him up to standing to try and shake some of the tightness out of the joint.

He felt like he might be going crazy. More than a few times he went and stood on the porch to try and figure if it was colder inside the house than outside of it, but each time he forgot exactly how vicious the chill had been. He worried, then, about a gas leak, that the town wasn’t getting any heat, that people would freeze in their beds even though it being a late Spring night, and he was walking, then, down the familiar path only because he’d taken it so many times in his head, right back to your front door.

Your lights were still on. For the second time that night he wrapped on your door, and when you pulled it open, he knew you hadn’t been sleeping either.

‘I just got so cold,’ he confessed, and you blinked up at him. He could feel the heat on his face radiating out from behind you, knew that if he lifted his fingertips to your cheek he would find it warm, welcoming.

He pulled you to him, snug into his body, and put his icy lips on yours.

Warm honey, slow and calming, seeping over the tip of his tongue.

It’s hands, then, up under your shirt and onto your warm skin, backing you into your hallway and up against the wall, your head knocking with a thud into the plaster and neither of you noticing. Joel’s mind, finally quiet, just seeking out your warmth, driven by the want to have all of your skin mapped by his fingers, driven by the want to have all of you, take you apart in his hands. You hitched your thigh over his hip, felt him lift you and carry you over to your worn-out couch, leather and patchy and somehow now always reminding you of Joel.

Just a quiet huff as you both landed, Joel’s mouth seeking out yours again to latch to you, keeping his arms tight around your back, pulling you down onto him, grinding you onto his cock, already straining under the flimsy twenty-year old material of his sleep pants. You gasped into his mouth, the ache in your core screaming for attention as you shivered against him.

‘So fuckin’ beautiful,’ he muttered, almost too himself, as he lifted you, one arm on the back of the sofa to steady you both as he deposited you down onto the cushion beneath him, shucking off your own pyjamas as he slid down onto the floor beneath you. You mewled, wanting him back on top of you, wanting his heat and his muscles rippling under his soft skin, his broad chest pushing hard into yours as he hovered over you, the press of him into the seat of the couch.

He sensed you needing him, lifting one hand and running it up over your belly, coming to rest, palm up just below your breast where you grabbed it, held it in yours, let him anchor you to him while you threw your head back and hooked your ankles over his shoulders.

‘Fuck, Joel, fuck…’ you whimpered, needy and breathy and already so wet you could feel it trickling down between your cheeks to the leather. Joel, rearing back on his heels, took a moment to admire the view, his eyes dark and wolfish as he surveyed his prey.

‘I need to taste it,’ he grunted, palming himself through his pants as you glistened in front of him, warm skin glowing in the lamplight as he spread you, reached down with his hand and slid his fingers up the inside of your thigh, inching towards your drooling cunt.

You couldn’t speak, the back of your throat so dry you could only swallow and gasp, nodding your head at him, the thundering of your centre so encompassing now, so deafening, you could barely hear his high, gentle whimper as he descended, sliding his lips over you, his tongue licking a fat and not at all tentative stripe at your slit before pulling up, opening you, descending on your clit like he had a homing beacon, every nerve ending screaming for him as he sucked the fraught bud between his teeth.

Joel felt it, your warm nectar, sweet and scorching, sliding down his throat and he swallowed it down, consumed it, drank from you, felt the heat pooling in his belly where it would sustain him for another day. Still gripping your hand in his right, he slid his left further up to tease at your slit, the slick of you collecting on his skin as he hooked his fingers, spreading you further open again, unfolding you, fastening you to him as he reached high and forward, found that spongey spot that made your breath hitch.

He wasn’t even sure he was doing it for you, just needing it for himself, greedy and desperate, hunting for your heat. You were enlivening him, emboldening him, giving him something to shield and something to shield with. He muttered against you, little whimpered praises neither of you could make out, as he felt your cunt tighten around him, left your hand go to steady your hips, pull you harder onto his face as you bucked against him.

He wanted you to come. Wanted to hear you scream, feel your hands in his hair, wring you out with his tongue and his fingers, wanted to be the one that made it happen. He wanted you for his own, to consume you, keep you tucked away inside himself for crisp afternoons and chilly midnights. Wanted you, always wanted you, here like this, split open and writhing for him, always wet and dripping on his skin and his floor, open and needy and crying for him, grasping him to you, calling his name.

And when you did, when you finally released around him, when he swallowed down your come and your cries, with your hips in his hand and your cunt in his teeth he knew, then, this was it for him, that he’d never feel a heat like it again, that the wanting would be all the worse for having finally held it, for just a moment here in your living room, while you gasped and writhed and trembled, your breath the only sound as you fought to catch it.

Taglist (as always lemme know if you wanna jump on):

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

@wand-erer5

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fic

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ownlittleuniverse · 7 months ago

Text

snippet #2 - the villain surprises the hero

warning: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, harmful behavior, touchy villain (not nsfw), depictions and descriptions of physical violence, may be uncomfortable or triggering for some readers, reader discretion is advised.

The hero had been captured again, tied to a chair, blindfolded, and beaten to a pulp until the only thing they could taste, smell, feel, was their blood.

It was routine at this point.

Get captured, refuse to give up information, get a few new scars before their team showed up. At a certain point, these so-called villains became predictable. None of them truly scared the hero anymore.

The hero’s head came up at the sound of a door creaking open then slamming shut, footsteps following behind. They clenched their fists against their restraints, sighing, preparing themselves for another round of mediocre scare tactics.

The footsteps of the person started to become louder and louder, the hero could hear them slowly circling their chair like they were tracking prey.

They stopped right behind the hero, their breath tickling their ear, making the hero shiver behind their blindfold.

Their captors before had never gotten this close, at least without a weapon or some weak verbal threats. This felt… different somehow. It made the hero a bit antsy. Their chest became heavier as they listened to the sounds of the person’s even breathing.

Their gut was trying to tell them something.

Something was wrong-

Their heart stopped when they heard the person’s whispered voice.

“Hello, Darling.”

No.

The hero frantically jerked at their restraints but they wouldn’t budge, it only made the rope dig more into their body. Loud and panicked sounds escaped them as their heart started to beat in their head.

The person only chuckled at their attempts to free themselves.

No. No.

They— there… it’s not possible.

“Did you miss me?”

No. They needed to get out. Tears started to seep through their blindfold, as well as sweat as they jerked their head around. They couldn’t get out, they couldn’t even see where they were. The hero was frantic, horribly panicked, and the villain reveled in it.

The villain was the only one who could evoke genuine terror from their hero. Turn them into a screaming, begging mess at their feet.

The villain trailed their hand delicately over the hero’s neck, wrapping their fingers around them and stroking. The hero let out a choked whimper, their body completely shivering.

“You never thought you’d feel this again, did you?” The villain smiled, “My touch making you deliciously crazy?”

No. They didn’t. The villain was supposed to be dead.

The hero’s breathing grew more erratic by the second, more and more tears streamed down their face, mixing with the dried blood and stinging their fresh shallow cuts.

They saw their dead body. They buried them in that grave. They stuck that knife in their chest so many times they lost count as they watched the life drain out of them. How?

“It’s been far too long, my love,” the villain said, “I think we should relive some good memories.”

The hero couldn’t answer, only cry out and tried to wiggle their way out of their restraints again and again and again. It was a pity, the sight of someone trying to escape the inevitable.

The villain started to slowly lift the hero’s ripped sleeves, rolling them to expose their skin. No. No. No. Anything but that.

The villain watched in awe as their hero completely lost it and tried so hard to escape them, even though their hero was smart enough to know there was no hope. No one was coming to save them.

“Sh, sh, sh,” the villain cooed, their hand sickenly stroking the hero’s neck like comfort, “There’s no need for that, you know you're not escaping me.”

The villain trailed their hands softly up their hero’s arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They loved how their hero tried to push them off, completely losing it when the villain finally touched their scars.

They had dreamed of touching these sensitive things again. The deep scars they left all over. They hated the scars others dared to leave. They already killed those others who dared to call themselves ‘villains’, who dared to touch the hero. Only they were allowed to touch their little hero like this.

“All our fun times, etched into your skin,” the villain said in awe. Their hero tried to get out of their hold, their sobs echoing across the room.

The scars felt different this time, some of them. The hero must have tried to rid themselves of their marks, but failed miserably. How cute.

Their hero should know better than to try to rid themselves of the villain.

They continued to trace over the uneven skin, the memories of the many long lovely torture sessions they subjected their hero to flooding their brain, and they were sure their hero was reliving it too.

“Stop,” the hero whispered, choking on their sobs, “Please-

“Just like my scars,” they cut in, pressing delicate kisses to the skin making the hero’s body shiver, “I will never leave you, love.”

It has been so long since the hero felt that terror, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through their veins, their heartbeat reaching heights that could kill them. Their breathing was so rapid, their body was in a state of complete shock and panic.

They forgot what it felt like to be terrified, and they wished it stayed that way. They thought they made sure it would.

“But, you did leave me,” The villain dug into one of their scars, making them gasp, reopening it and letting their hero’s blood trickle down their fingers.

“You left me to rot in the ground,”

“I-I didn’t-”

“Let the world forget about me.”

The villain dug in deeper. The hero cried out.

“Let yourself forget about me,” the villain whispered, their breath over the hero’s mouth.

“I’m- sorry.. please— I’ll do-“

The hero jerked and sobbed again as the villain ripped off their blindfold, the light seering their eyes.

“Your begging is pitiful,” they spat.

The hero’s eyes adjusted to the sudden light as they looked up into the villain’s. They jerked their head away. Those same eyes haunted them when the hero slept, even when they thought they were buried deep underground.

The villain grabbed the hero’s chin, digging their nails into the skin and forced their head back up.

“You really thought you could get rid of me?” the villain snapped, venom lacing every syllable.

The hero sniffled, their eyes completely bloodshot from their tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” the villain whispered with crazy in their eyes, “and neither are you.”

The hero couldn’t answer, only cry out as exhaustion took over their body. Their body stopped fighting, just twitching every so often from the adrenaline. They were slowly accepting their fate.

“I’m keeping you, Darling,” the villain smiled, stroking the hero’s chin, “and I promise you, this time, you’ll never be able to forget me.”

The hero whimpered a slur of incoherent words in response.

The villain loved their hero like this, shaking and on the verge of insanity knowing what things the villain was about to subject them to. It was a sight the villain was going to come back to every single day. They planned to come back every night, keep them tied up, bloodied and bruised, completely helpless and at their mercy. Then afterwards, they’ll really get to work on molding their hero into perfection.

The villain mercilessly tied the hero’s blindfold into a gag, enjoying the way the hero jerked in response, and took a syringe out. Their hero’s eyes winded, as they tried to plead behind the fabric, but the thing was too tight.

They sobbed. The hero knew what was coming next. They remembered, those memories were burned inside of them. Cut into their skin.

“Don’t worry,” they whispered, kissing their hero’s tear and blood-soaked cheek, “I’ll be all you ever think about soon enough.”

They could only cry and try to plead through their eyes, shaking their head. The villain though had no mercy for them whatsoever.

Their hero betrayed them. They stuck a knife in their heart when the villain let themselves believe someone actually cared for them, they finally let themselves trust and their little hero shattered it.

They stuck the syringe right in their scar. Their hero let out a scream of terror covered by the fabric.

Now it was only fair they would shatter them in return.

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itsabouttimex2 · 8 months ago

Note

Since ROTTMNT are allowed, how about some headcanons of the turtles with a reader who’s very reckless? They’re always throwing themselves into danger whenever the team is fighting, and reader just insists they’re trying to help.

also love your writing ❤️❤️

Turtles with a Reckless Y/N

(Thank you so much💗 I’ve been watching season two, and I’ve got a lot of thoughts!)

No. No, no, no. Raphael does not tolerate your shenanigans. He’s worried sick about you every time you try something new, you hear him? Expect lots of gruff lectures about how ‘You need to learn to work with me and the others as a team, or you’re staying home with Splinter!’

This is not an empty threat. Keep pushing and getting reckless, Y/N. Realizing that he’s going to have to teach you a lesson the hard way, Raph sneaks up behind you as you try to sneak out, wrapping you into his arms.

“Sorry, Y/N- but I did warn you,” he says, carefully binding you up in sloppy knots. After he’s got your wrists and legs tied, he wraps a blanket around you. Then, another round of rope. Raph plops you onto Splinter’s chair, grabbing the remote and turning on a safety awareness video he (with the help of everyone in the Turtlefam) made for you.

This isn’t necessarily going to be a one time thing, though. The ante is upped every time you make another boneheaded decision, another grounding, another lecture, another video. He’ll get through to you.

Eventually.

Leo can be arrogant and overconfident himself, so he’ll relate to the things you do and say. It’s easy to want to prop you up and encourage you. He’s suffering from an inferiority complex, trying to make up for his self-perceived shortcomings by acting like he’s better and stronger than the people around him.

And he wonders if maybe you’re going through the same thing with the way you insist that “I’m just trying to help, Leo,” and “I don’t need you to baby me!”

And then Leo starts to think that telling you off for the way might only make things worse. For all he knows, you’ll decide that getting even more reckless will be the way that you finally ‘prove yourself’, making the same boneheaded approval-seeking decisions that he does.

In the end, he decides to settle things by subtly sabotaging your efforts to join fights. Leo “accidentally” locks doors before you can run through, sneaks your gear into dark corners where you’ll take too long to find it, taking extra risks to try and end fights before you can join.

It’s for your own good. Please believe him when he says that.

With poor communication skills and a potential developmental disorder that only muddles his understanding of others further (same, bud), ‘talking it out’ is not an option for Donnie.

So he turns to the one thing he knows best- tech. A tracker first. Then two. Then three. Eventually he’s got a dozen tracking devices in all different shapes and sizes, each one snapped into a different device or gadget.

It’s not that he wants to hurt you, of course not.

But if an electrical shock or painful squeeze can “convince” you to keep out of danger and think things through before you hurtle headfirst into an enemy’s unmerciful hands… fine. Fine.

Donnie will snap a bulky metal cuff around one of your wrists, sighing as he does. Does this make him the “bad guy”? Probably. But he’s fine with that, because being “bad” is better than being at a funeral. He’ll muster up a half-hearted apology, sighing as he locks the metal around you.

“Enough with the reckless stunts, Y/N. You’re keeping this on until I know you’ve grown a functioning brain.”

Big-hearted and equipped with a somewhat gentle demeanor, Mikey decides to try talking things through first. It’s very possible that this problem is some kind of misunderstanding that could just be unraveled with a little bit of one-on-one time!

Sure, he probably doesn’t have to cuddle up to you and wrap you both in blankets with hot drinks, but he does anyway! (Because he wants to steal you away for a moment to have all to himself, under the guise of ‘helping you’.

There’s an admitted half-effort from Mikey to talk you through whatever it is that’s causing you trouble, at least. It’s just that he’s more focused on the ‘therapy’ approach, hoping that he can grow closer to you while keeping you content and out of danger for the moment.

Though, if you really insist on such reckless behavior, Mikey always has his kusari-fundō to wrap you up head to toe. Given his status as the ‘baby’ of the family, no one is going to take his behavior all too seriously.

You’re stuck tight, helpless against his loving, brotherly whims.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere ROTTMNT #Yandere Raphael #Yandere Leonardo #Yandere Donatello #Yandere Michelangelo #Yandere Brother

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imdeadinsidesiriuslydead · 1 year ago

Text

Shut Up! | Bart Allen x villain!reader

Bart Allen x fem! Reader

Based off this imagine I made.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Violence. Blood(tiny). Smutty! Just go ahead and read the imagine if you don’t want spoilers. Slight smut. Maybe I’ll write a part 2 with full on smut😏

notes: female reader. Villain reader. Villain name never mentioned. Race or appearance of reader never mentioned.

a/n: dude I was minding my business when this scenario popped into my head and now I just have to share it with the world. Enjoy!

———

Being chained up to a chair with his feet being bound together isn’t how Bart thought he’d spend his Friday night.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in Gotham. He protects Central City with Wally. Kinda. Wally doesn’t really like Bart as a sidekick. He was more of Max Mercury’s sidekick.

Max was probably worried out of his mind. He just really hoped Max wouldn’t show up or try to look for him, or else he’d find something he doesn’t need to know.

Bart has a secret. A secret crush on a certain Batman villain. Ever since he had to fight her with the young justice team, he was smitten.

His favorite pass time is running to Gotham city and foiling her plan before heading off to go hang out with Tim.

She would always catch him, she always did. And he would always let her. He loved it. A game of cat and mouse.

He loved watching her smile in victory as she caught him. He loved watching her integrate him. And he especially loved annoying her.

Like right now. He could vibrate his molecules and get out of the ropes, but what’s the fun in that?

She had caught him by freezing the ground and him falling into a trap she had made. She than knocked him out and tied him to a chair.

She stood in front of him with a scowl. She didn’t enjoy this game as much as he did. Her mask had been removed, giving Bart a few look at her face. She stared him down before smiling.

“Butch you can leave.” You said to your guard standing by the door. He left and closed the door, leaving the room in a dark cast.

The lights from outside the windows cast shadows across your features. The only other light was a small one back behind Bart, giving him the tiniest bit light to see your face.

“Impulse.” You stated “why do you always pop up and ruin everything?” You asked, no malice in your tone, Bart noted. Only curiosity.

“Well when you’re about to do something bad it’s kinda my job to come stop you.” Bart said as he smiled at you.

“Hmm” you hummed as you moved to a table full of weapons.

You grabbed a knife and turned to face him. Bart watched as you walked up to him slowly before leaning down to be at his eye level.

“You know,” you started with a sly smile “usually, I’d let you off with a warning. Maybe a slap on the wrist.” You whispered to him as you raised the knife to his face.

“but today you didn’t just mess up my plan. No.” You whispered with fake sorrow. You dragged the knife against his jaw, causing Bart to let out a breath. “You messed up the Bane’s plan too.”

Bart sucked in a breath. He didn’t know that. Obviously, he could put run Bane, but that didn’t change the fact that he was scared of him.

“Yea so, now I have to teach you a real lesson Impulse. Either with me or Bane. Take your pick.”

“Oh I’d much rather be punished by you.” Bart said as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

Your smile turned to an annoyed look. “Suit yourself.” You dug the knife at his neck, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to hurt.

Bart winced in pain, but another idea popped into his head. Acting like his name, he impulsively took action.

“So what do you do when you’re not trying to kill me?” He asked teasingly. The smirk on his face prevalent.

Your face slipped for a minute before the walls were back up again. “Is that really what you’re asking right now?” You asked dumbfounded.

“Well,” he started staring you right in the eyes, you could finally see the color of them. A nice golden brown. “I figured since your bodyguard wasn’t in here anymore, we could get to know each other a little more.” He smiled seductively.

Your blush was very noticeable, especially since your mask was off. “But- stop trying to distract me from your punishment.” You said sternly, though Bart was not convinced.

“Well I normally wouldn’t let someone tie me up the first official date, but you’re a special exception.” Bart winked. “So, at least tell me about yourself, since I’m being so nice.” He looked at you with faux innocence. You won’t lie, the look on his face was turning you on. You had to figure out a way to have him keep the look on his face.

You quickly remember that Bane would have your head if you didn’t take care of Impulse. Your need for survival trumped the need between your legs.

“That’s a vague question.” You say as you resume moving your knife against his neck, watching the goosebumps that it leaves in its wake.

“Huh?” Bart asked.

“Thats a vague question. Be specific. What did you want to know?” You ask as your knife slowly pierces the skin of his neck.

He hisses at the pain, before almost chocking on air. You moved your head towards his neck and licked the blood off of his neck. Bart stares at you, completely turned on and kinda scared.

You watched as the cut immediately healed itself, leaving no scar. You notice his shocked staring and laugh.

“How about a deal? Every question I answer, you have to answer one of mine. Deal?” You asked as you made the same innocent look he had given you earlier.

He nodded dumbly and you smiled.

“So too fast too furious, what’s your question?” You asked him.

“What’s your name?” He asked, his smile returning.

Your knife continued on its path across his neck going up to his jaw line.

“Y/N” you said as your knife gently touched his jaw line. He breathed out, liking the sensation of it gently touching him. “Your turn.” He tells you.

“Why do you heal so fast?” You asked as he breathed deeply. You were genuinely curious.

“Super fast metabolism.” he breathed as your knife made its way to the end of his suit by his neck.

Your knife gently teared the spandex, revealing more skin to slice at. His skin was incredibly soft. Slightly tan with freckles all over the part of his now exposed shoulder.

“Why are you working for Bane?” He asked. You weren’t really a villain in his eyes. More of an anti hero. You didn’t really harm people. You helped bad guys though, but you didn’t seemed fond of that.

“Cause I have to.” You said, still mesmerized by the goosebumps you were creating on his supple skin.

He figured he can ask you about it another day. Right now he didn’t want anything to stop you from dragging the knife all over him.

“Why do you always come to Gotham? I thought you and the flash protect Central City. That’s like two states away.” You say you start to cut the skin of his shoulder gently.

He breathes out a whine as it hurts. You try not to focus on the way that noise made you feel.

“What do you think sweetheart? Why am I here?” You might have been intimidated by his words if you weren’t meant to be torturing him.

You grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head back fast. He whined again and stared at you in shock.

“I asked you a question, speedy!” You say, giving him a dangerous look.

He stares at you in shock and overwhelmed lust. You smirk and decide to sit on his lap instead of kneeling on the floor.

You let go of his hair and go back you his shoulder. Watching the blood drip down a little. You saw the cut had healed and just to turn him on more, you lean down and lick the blood up his shoulder. You lick a little higher than where the blood stopped just to mess with him.

“Because I wanted to see you.” He states. Blushing madly.

You look up at him, and look through his goggles into his eyes. You saw shame and embarrassment. He’s telling the truth.

You won’t lie, that statement might have made your day, hell, your week. You try to hide the smile on your face but miserably fail. You had a lot of body image issues growing up and were bullied heavily, it was nice to find out someone actually wanted to see you, not just for a business deal.

“Your turn.” You tell him, still a little giddy.

“Why do you always kidnap me?” He asked with a handsome smile.

“You always try to stop me. So why not just stop you before you can?” You say as you pick your knife back up and continue your assault of his skin.

your hand pulls down the fabric a bit that had been cut on his shoulder, revealing part of his chest.

Bart sucks in a breath. Waiting for your next move.

“Why aren’t you actually hurting me?” Bart asked. You looked up at Impulse.

“Do you want me to actually hurt you?” You whisper as your kinda gently trails down from his shoulder.

“No.” He said as the cool knife hits his chest.

“I’m not gonna hurt cause I don’t want to.” You say turning back to work.

“But won’t the henchmen outside notice I’m not hurt?” Bart asked.

“What do you mean?” You asks as you slice a tiny shallow part of his right pec.

Bart makes a small whimper at the sensation, as another better idea pops into his head.

“Like don’t people who are tortured usually scream and make noise?” He asks in a seductive voice.

Your knife stopped moving again and you look at him and see his eyes blown out with lust. Your mind made a decision before you could stop yourself. You leaned down and licked up the blood before dragging your tongue up his shoulder to his neck, before sucking on the skin of his neck.

Bart moaned as he leaned more into your touch. The noise he made went straight to your core.

You pulled back, a tiny bit of blood on the corner of your mouth. Your hands went into Impulses hair and you gently tugged, causing him to leg out another whine. You moved your sitting position so that your legs were straddling his.

“Yea. I suppose they do. You wanna help me make this sound real?” You ask as your hand move onto his face, pushing his goggles up so you can see his eyes.

“Yes.” Bart says as he felt his dick harden against your thigh.

“Good boy.” You say before leaning in to kiss Bart.

——

anyone want a part 2?

Edit: Part 2 here

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last-starry-sky · 2 months ago

Text

kinktober day 2 - oral fixation

ghost x gn!military!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1k, vague descriptions of anxiety and self-destructive behaviors, oral fixation (obviously), no actual sex but it's suggestive as hell, lmao.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

This is his fault. Mostly.

Your nervous ticks were entirely innocent, absolutely unintentional. Never intended to annoy, let alone provoke anyone. But old (bad) habits die hard, and once your anxiety takes hold you find yourself falling back on them. If anything, they only harmed you in the end. Your stubby nails, picked skin, and raw lips were evidence enough of that.

You find yourself chewing on your nails in the middle of the meeting. It’s nothing high stakes, at least not right now. Not that you’ve been told. If you’d learned anything in this job it’s that anything can go wrong at any time. Even when you’re overprepared. Even when your superiors are sure. Old mistakes can come back to haunt you at the worst times. The worst part is that, nine times out of ten, nothing happens. Everything is fine. But that other ten percent? It has you up late, sleeplessly rummaging through data for the hundredth time, trying to prepare for the unpreparable.

You’d just finished gnawing through your thumbnail when Price called for a break. Most of the crowd, the several teams and special teams gathered for this specific mission, filter out. They chatter about grabbing a snack, some water, of stretching their legs. The Scot on your team: Soap, you believe Price had called him, roped an arm around another teammate in a blue baseball cap, asking to bum a smoke. The other man scoffs, mumbling something unheard as he digs in his breast pocket for his pack. They amble out of the room, Price not far behind. He peels off in the opposite direction to the other two, phone pressed to his ear, grumbling low responses that disappear in the thud of boots down the hall.

That leaves you alone. Finally. You let out a sigh of relief. You’d been surrounded by people for the better part of a week and it had done nothing to soothe your fraying nerves already strained with anxiety. You went into data analysis for a reason. You didn’t mind people, but computers made for better coworkers. You ran your finger over the destroyed edge of your thumbnail. Can’t keep doing this to yourself, you think with a scowl. You looked over the others on the same hand before reaching for the pen slotted in your notebook.

Perfect.

You slid the cap of the pen along your bottom lip. The cool plastic was more soothing than your thumb. You slid it back and forth absently, stimulating whatever strange part of your brain needed it, while you flipped open your notebook. Your eyes quickly darting around the page and a half of scrawled notes you’d managed to take in the dark during the presentation. Not that the dim lighting now was any better. Your eyes were almost zoned out, on the edge of absorbing into your notes, the little square of table you’d claimed for yourself your whole world, pen in your mouth long forgotten.

If he hadn’t moved, you’d never have caught him. The sight of him alone at first gave you a fright. You flinched, biting down on the cap as your hand pulled the rest of the pen out of your mouth. You’d thought you were alone. Shame didn’t even have time to flush your face, because, as you took in the hulking brute of a man sat in the chair across the room, he stood up. You asked yourself how you could be so stupid to not notice someone that big, (and tall, good lord was he tall) let alone one dressed so conspicuously. Yes, his gear was mostly black, but a skull mask? Your brain must be especially fried to-

“‘ear me?” he asked gruffly, using the time you’d wasted in your head to cross the room. You swallowed, the cap falling from your lips in the process. You looked up at him, finding his shadowed brown eyes, ringed in black with stark blonde eyelashes. They peered out from behind the bleached, skeletal white of his mask. They were nice eyes, quite pretty with rare flecks of broken amber that caught the light.

“No,” you answered guiltily.

He huffed, gloved fingers reaching and taking the pen from your hand. It looked ridiculously small in his thick fingers. They’re decorated in skeleton print as well, you notice. He made the clear plastic tube look as delicate as spun sugar, flipping it easily between deft fingers. Good with his hands, you think. The motion distracts you, you don’t see his other hand until it’s on you. The second time he’s caught you out so far.

The spinning suddenly stops as he grips your jaw, petting his own thumb across your sensitive lips. It doesn’t take much persuasion or strength on his part to open your mouth, letting him graze the pad of his gloved finger across your teeth. Your tongue darts out, tasting the worn, rough plastic.

The pen, laced between his knuckles, snaps. Your eyes dart up to his, wanting and frightened. He tossed the shattered remains of the pen to the floor, hand coming back up to adjust himself. He watches as your teeth leave permanent scrapes in the plastic pads the whole while, saliva absorbing into the fabric until it drips down his palm.

“Asked if you’re doin’ that shit on purpose,” he grumbled, pulling his thumb from the bite of your molars to stroke his middle and pointer fingers across your tongue. You close your eyes and moan as your lips close around the oversized digits, shuddering in your cold plastic chair. He doesn’t stop to motion of his hand, sawing in and out past your spit-slicked lips. It’s lovely how blank your mind becomes. Absolutely nothing in there except the motion of your teeth and tongue against the hard, dull material of his glove. He laughs at you when you reach up, laying your hand on his wrist.

“Figured,” he huffs, stroking himself through his pants. “Newbies always get the shakes. Happens,” He grabs your jaw again, forcing your blissed-out gaze on him. Your cheeks pinch as he slowly draws his fingers from your mouth, lips still sucked close. He groans when they pop free. He inspects his glove and the slick shine you’ve left on it. “Could blow off some steam m’self,” he says, a groan following a squeeze of his thick cock through his pants leaving no doubt of his intention before he sauntered away.

#mw2 #starry writes #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #kinktober 2024 #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #im such a tease for ending it like that lmao sorry

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tacticaldiary · 1 year ago

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Taken

Pairing: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

When she gets taken, kidnapped right under his nose, Soap knows that he’ll do anything to get her back. All hell breaks loose as the search begins and a tearful reunion ensues.

A/N: First COD fanfic! Request box is open, please send through anything you’d wanna see written from Modern Warfare 1 and 2!

Masterlist

“Where is she?” Soap snarls, roughly slamming the soldier against the nearest metal beam. Gunshots ring around them, pinging off the warehouse as the rest of the Task Force clears out the remaining grunts. When the man says nothing, scowling up at him instead, Soap slams his against the metal again, a sickening crack cutting through the air as the soldier’s head cracks against the surface.

“Not gonna ask you again, ya hear me?” Soap hisses, accent thick and rough with furious urgency. “If the next thing I hear isn’t a location, there’ll be a bullet between your eyes.” The man goes clammy as the hot barrel of Soap’s gun digs into his forehead.

She was gone.

The love of his life, the one person who was the best at keeping him afloat. The one person he swore he’d protect throughout the shitshow that his life was, had been targeting.

Because of him.

The thought sends another wave of fresh fury through him.

The moment he’d found out that she’d been plucked right out of their apartment, Soap had grabbed his gear and was fully ready to storm off to do whatever it took to find her. The only reason he had backup was because Price had physically ordered him to stop and cool his head. The others were just as fond of her as he was, so Soap knew that their intentions were level-headed but with just as much urgency as his.

She worked as a strategist on their team, an integral part of the foundations of their missions. Well liked amongst the team, even by people as notoriously cold as Ghost, she’d caught his eye the moment he saw her.

It hadn’t taken long for Soap to take the chance to ask her out and here they were now. 5 years later, engaged and going strong.

And now she was gone.

When Soap cocks the gun, finger placed on the trigger with the intention to shoot this bastard and move on to the next, he’d slaughter this entire warehouse until he wrung out the information from their corpses if he had to, the man finally stutters out what he’s looking for.

“S-safe house three miles west.” He blurts out.

“Good lad.” Soap spits out, venomous and jarring. It’s so unlike him to be this intense, the easy-going fellow nowhere to be seen. Knocking the man unconscious and shoving him unceremoniously to the ground, he makes his way to the exit of the warehouse, tapping on his comms and relaying the location to his team.

“Copy.” Comes Ghost’s gruff voice over the comms. “Rendezvous at the vehicle in 5.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She can’t move without some part of her body spiking with pain.

For the past 12 hours, she’s been tied down to a chair upright, the wood digging into her back, her wrists raw and bloody from rope burn.

The organisation wanted to know about Johnny, about the Task Force, about their safehouses, and future plans. Knowing the consequences of blabbering, she’d kept her mouth shut and her glare sharp, disclosing nothing even after being beaten bloody and touched in ways that made her skin crawl.

Bruises mar her skin, and she wonders how long it’ll take before her team find her.

Because they would find her. She had no doubt about that. As loyal as a pack of dogs, the team had grown close to something akin to a family for her. they would find her, she was sure of it.

She just wasn’t sure she’d last until then.

Johnny. Her heart aches as she thinks about what she would give to see him right now. Capable as she was, he always brought about a sense of safety with him. She always felt like nothing could touch her when he was with her, making her laugh, flirting, throwing her over his shoulder, and making her squeal.

Letting her body sag forward when the two men interrogating her finally, leave the room is a painful relief. Admittedly she’s not sure if she can take many more rounds of their cruelty. Which is exactly why she needs to escape as soon as she can.

One of them had been standing behind her, yanking her head back by her hair earlier, and she’d taken the chance to blindly swipe at a small pocket knife tucked into his pocket. She draws it out of her tattered sleeve where it had been concealed and slowly, clumsily saws at the ropes around her wrists with it.

the blade nicks her a few times, but eventually the ropes drop loose. Sighing in relief, quickly undoing the ones around her ankles, she stands unsteadily, looking around the room for anything she could use to assist her.

A metal table bolted to the ground near one of the corners and a cupboard pushed towards the back of the room. Aside from those, the room is barren.

Limping over, she pulls the cupboard open, groaning in frustration when she finds it empty, save for a few cobwebs. What the hell was the point in having it here if-

There’s a bang from outside, a door slamming. Footsteps thundering down the hall.

Her heart races.

Angry. It sounded so angry.

They’d had enough of her silence, she guesses. Those footsteps would only sound that angry if they decided she was worthless to keep around. They were coming to kill her, or worse, put her through something that would make her wish they’d kill her.

She scrambles into the cupboard, clicking it shut and submerging herself in darkness. The beating of her heart was too loud, her shaky exhale too audible.

She slaps a hand over her mouth as the door to the room slams open, voices barking clearer, footsteps louder. She can’t make out what they’re saying, just that it’s loud and aggressive and tight.

They were going to find her any moment, throw open the cupboard and shoot her there and then. God, she wished she could see the others one last time. Tease Ghost with Gaz, and spend her evenings with Price going over maps and plans.

Be in Johnny’s arms one last time. See that smile that made her warm and hear that deep voice whisper in her ear.

Tears prick the corners of her eyes, burning hot as she readies herself. Clutching the knife in tightly, she resigns herself to her demise. If she was going out, she was going out fighting.

‘I’m sorry, Johnny.’ She thinks, holding her breath as footsteps approach the cupboard. ‘I hope you’re not the one that finds my body’ With that one last morbid thought, she throws open the door and yells, barrelling into the first person in her way, swinging the knife.

She hears a curse as it nicks someone’s shoulder, and then someone’s got her by the wrists, prying the knife out of her hands.

“Let me go!” She yells, kicking and scratching, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her body aches but she refuses to die on their terms, she-

“-me, It’s alright!” The voice filters into her mind, ebbing into coherency. She realises that the grip on her wrists is not bruising, the hold her captor has on her is not painful.

A deep voice, Scottish drawl, familiar hands holding her firmly in place.

Her knees buckle with relief at the realisation.

“I’ve got ya, baby. You’re safe, I’ve got ya.” Soap says frantically, catching her, and lowering her to the floor gently. He goes down with her, kneeling and releasing her wrists to cup her cheeks. “Shit, your freezing.” He breathes, wild eyes looking her up and down, charting her injuries and wounds.

“Johnny?” Her voice breaks, hands coming up to clutch at his arms.

“Yeah, it’s me, darling. It’s me.” He pulls her in fiercely, pressing her against himself. His arms winding around her waist, his hand in her hair...it all cracks the knot of tension in her chest and draws out a terrible sob.

“I didn’t- I couldn’t-” She trails out into a sob, crying out her exhaustion and terror into his strong shoulder. “They wanted to know-”

Soap hushes her, tells her not to talk, to not worry, that he’s here now, and all of it just makes her sob harder.

He was here. He was here and real and she was in his arms and safe.

Safe.

She was safe.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The relief of having her again, of seeing her not unharmed, but alive...it has him praying to whoever the hell was up there.

Soap holds her while she cries, reassuring himself that they had made it in time.

The way she had lunged at him, how she’d attacked with such a wild, instinctual fear had anger igniting his blood. There was so much blood, her clothes half in tatters. Bruises, gashes, cuts, and injuries everywhere.

The fact that her hair was damp and tangled gave him a sneaking suspicion that waterboarding had not been off the table.

Once she’s calmed down- hell, once he’s calmed down- Soap pulls away slightly, brushes some of the tears off of her cheeks. “I’m gonna get ya outta here, alright? The boys have cleared this place out, nobody else is gonna hurt ya.” He assures her, gently helping her stand. The second he catches her limp, he disregards all plans of helping her walk, picking her up easily in his arms instead.

The fact that she’s too tired to protest otherwise only makes him more worried.

“I didn’t-...I didn’t tell them anything.” She whispers after a few seconds of silence. Soap was walking them out to the medic tent they had set up outside the safehouse.

“I know.” He nods, offering her the smallest of smiles. “You’re a stubborn one, we know.” He had no doubt she wouldn’t comply. Always been a strong one, that girl.

“Thank you.” She closes her eyes, breathing through the ache in her body. “I didn’t know if I could...you know,” she admits quietly. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. Any of you.” Her breath hitches at the last part, a testament to how close he’d gotten to losing the best thing in his life.

His heart twists painfully, his grip tightening on her as they enter the tent.

“I’ll always find ya, baby.” He says, laying her down, watching people crowd around her immediately. “This’ll never happen again, I swear it.”

He sure as hell would make sure of it. Soap can tell she won’t cling to consciousness much longer, not when the adrenaline is fading out of her systems and those injuries, so he sits himself down next to her, clutches onto her hand until she drifts away, his name on her lips.

“I’m right here.” He whispers, bringing her bloody palm up to press a kiss onto it. “Always will be.”

Requests Are Open!

(13/06/2023)

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starzwithapen · 11 months ago

Text

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

VIVA / GN!READER / CLAY ☆ poly dating hcs !

Headcanons for being in a polyamorous relationship with these two !! Reader is gender neutral and this is ENTITRELY self indulgent lmao the target audience is ME

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

☆ if you're more bubbly and excitable like Viva- you and her team up to help Clay unwind after work, walking into the admin building every few minutes to help him take regular breaks

☆ if you're more serious like Clay, you and him help Viva stay grounded and not get too in over herself from excitement- making sure she calms down and thinks things through

☆ they're both very grateful for having you, and they show it in different ways!

☆ just know you'll always be sporting a little braid in your hair throughout the day- Viva loves to add little hair charms so you two can match [and tries to rope Clay into it, too]

☆ all three of you have matching bracelets, and you'd be surprised to know that it was actually Clay who made them! The thread is tied off a little sloppily, but he tried to join you and Viva in something you both loved, and it warmed your heart and had Viva squealing

☆ Clay tries to be smooth and subtle but Viva gets too impatient lol

- "Sooo.....I was thinking-" "We want to go out with you." "HEY- I was gonna, y'know, build up to it!" "You were taking too loonnggg!"

☆ I'd actually imagine you or Clay had to be the ones to confess! Viva's a very affectionate person in general, but with something as delicate and important to her as this, she's scared of changing your dynamic and what it could bring [and is afraid of either of you not feeling the same and leaving her behind]

☆ Once she gets over that initial fear the PDA is amped up by 100! She's holding your hands and dragging you across the golf course, constant hugging and kisses in public

☆ Clay's a little more quiet about it- he doesn't want the other trolls thinking he's gone soft, but....he'll link his pinkie with yours and lean down to kiss your forehead when no one's looking

☆ They're not the type to get jealous- Viva loves seeing you and Clay being all cute together, and Clay's glad you two have each other when he's busy with work

☆ Speaking of- if Clay's taking too long working on something and won't take a break? You and Viva are sitting behind him on the couch being as dramatic and ridiculous as possible

☆ "ohhh....I'm just so cold and miserable....if only our boyfriend would give us the time of day!" Viva slumps back on the cushions and puts a hand across her heart, trying to hold back her smile, "Viva, it's hopeless....he cares only for calculus and equations, the cheater." You both look at each other and burst out into a fit of giggles. Clay sighs and turns his chair around, opening his arms wide for a hug "fine, fine. Get over here."

☆ It gets a little hard to cuddle with 3 people [and a work table that Clay insists on, because these supplies won't order themselves] but you all make it work

- it's usually Clay in the middle, you sat in his lap with your arms wrapped around his waist, and Viva behind the both of you fiddling with Clay's hair and gossiping with you

☆ Clay really likes reading aloud to you both- he knows Viva can't sit still long enough to finish his favorite books, though she does try, and he doesn't really mind it. Reading out loud to you makes it more of a date activity, and your reactions make reading all the more fun

- [especially when Viva gasps at the plot twists and you fumble over Clay's shoulder to make sure he's not messing with you, and the book really did say that]

☆ Viva LOVES sleepovers, and you three usually have them at your place. While Viva's house is perfect for sleepovers, she tends to get too lazy to make her bed [and you'd rather not sleep on sticky candy], and Clay's bedroom is just.....well.

- "it's distinguished!" "No- no, Clay, it's just sad."

☆ Clay's surprisingly clingy in the mornings- while Viva's up and ready to go, rushing to bring you a mug of your favorite drink and kiss you, Clay's clinging onto you and shoving his head into your back to stay away from the sunlight

☆ Viva can really unwind with you, being open and vulnerable without the fear of being weak or being left behind- she knows you'll always be there, by her side

☆ Clay can be his true self around you, without forcing himself to have this serious image all the time- he knows you see him for all he is, and if he has fun around you it won't be all you define him as

☆ The putt putt trolls all know you're a close trio- to the point that seeing any of you without the other two feels wrong somehow, even before you all started dating

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book-place · 2 years ago

Text

Run Boy Run

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, violence, mentions of killing, weapons, cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: BAU x reader platonic

*not my gif*

Summary: When things get out of control, your team is always there to have your back

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!

Inspired by: Run Boy Run by Woodkid

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Run boy run, this world is not made for you

As a groan escaped your lips, you slowly- and painfully- peeled your eyes open, squinting against a light that, though dim, was still enough to hurt your already pounding head.

With slightly blurred vision, you allowed your eyes to sweep over your surroundings. You sat on a small wooden chair in the middle of a room with your hands tied to the back- with rope no doubt, you could tell by the way it was rubbing into your already raw skin. The room you were in was small with no windows, only one door that sat directly across from you.

And then, all at once, the events leading up to how you got there all came crashing down on you at once.

You had gotten a lead on the unsub for your current case while down at the police station to a location that was only a few minutes away from where you had been. Your team was out getting some much needed rest- something you had tried and failed at doing- so you decided to go over by yourself. It was only to scope the place out, though. You would never have gone in alone, you weren’t that stupid.

Apparently though, the unsub had gotten some sort of tip off that you would be there- or you just hadn’t been as discreet as you thought you had been- and had been able to sneak up behind you.

The last thing you remembered before blacking out was something hard and cold- like a pipe- hitting the back of your head in one hard bash, and the sound of a deep chuckle before the darkness had fully taken you.

“Well, well,” The voice that belonged to the laughter from your previous memories sounded through the small room and the door across from you was opened, and in stepped a man that you had no doubt was the unsub. He grinned menacingly, “What have we got here?”

Run boy run, they’re trying to catch you

The police station was thrown into complete and utter chaos the moment your BAU team got back and realized that you weren’t there after being informed by some officers that you had mentioned something about a location.

“You’re sure she didn’t say where she was going?” Morgan interrogated the poor officer yet again, needing for his own sake to be absolutely thorough with this.

It wasn’t like you to just leave without telling one of them, let alone for three hours with your phone being left in the station. That part had to have been an accident.

“She had to have gone after the unsub, and he must have taken her.” Spencer muttered, mostly to himself but everyone felt their blood run a little colder at his words.

Derek sighed, running a hand down his face, “You’re free to go.”

The officer didn’t waste a second before scrambling out of the room that had been set up specifically for the FBI team, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

“Why wouldn’t she come to us first then?” JJ questioned, “It’s not like her to go anywhere without backup.”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Garcia asked softly from the computer screen she had been propped up against the table on.

“Of course she is,” Emily was the first one to try and reassure everyone, “She’s tough. You all know that.”

Aaron and David exchanged worried glances until Hotch stood up from where he had been sitting and sighed, “We’re doing her no good by panicking.” He tried to reel his team back in, “We need to stay focused. That’s the way we can help her the quickest.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, all turning their eyes to the evidence board they had pinned photos up on, the one that the cops claimed you had been staring at for at least an hour before leaving.

Wherever you were had to be on that board, they just needed to figure out what you saw that they didn’t.

Run boy run, running is a victory

“You’re one of them FBI agents, ain’tcha?” The unsub asked, shaking his head with a small scoff, “You thought you could- what? Come out here all by yourself and try to stop me?” He snickered at the thought.

You looked up at him with a neutral expression, remembering from the profile that he didn’t do well with being talked back to. That was oftentimes a trigger for his murders, “I am.” You agreed with the first part, “But I didn’t come out to try and stop you.”

He scoffed, rounding on his heel and pointing an accusing finger your way, “Bullshit!” He seethed, “You came all the way out here figuring that you could bust me for the things I’ve done.”

Still looking unphased, you simply shook your head lightly, “I just want to talk.”

“Bullshit!” He cried again, this time sending the back of his hand towards your face, emitting a burning sensation to your cheek.

You gasped, head flying to the side on impact and tasted the metallicness of blood right away.

Roughly, he gripped your chin between his large hand, holding it in a way that would surely bruise, “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He hissed, spit flying out of his mouth and into your face.

Run boy run, beauty lays behind the hills

“Tell me again what we know about the unsub.” Emily said, crossing her arms as she stared intently at the board.

“He’s a white male in his late thirties,” Spencer began reciting without hesitation, “He has anger issues so severe that any little thing will set him off and push him into a killing spree to anyone that could possibly be used as a witness. The only reason he hadn’t been caught yet is because he somehow never leaves prints at the scenes and always flees before anyone can show up.”

“If he gets angry with people really easily…” JJ trailed off, squinting her eyes at the map of the town on the board.

“Then he wouldn’t want to be around them.” David finished, standing up with the realization.

“Oh my god,” Derek breathed out, “How could we have been so stupid?”

Their worry for you had obviously clouded their brains, not letting them think properly about the situation at hand.

“What?” Penelope asked desperately from the computer screen, “What is it? What am I missing?”

“The woods,” Aaron spoke up, “He has a cabin in the woods.”

Run boy run, the sun will be guiding you

“What do you have on me?” The man demanded, taking a handful of the front of your shirt and shaking you violently, “Huh? None of my prints are ever left at the scene! You have absolutely no proof that I did anything!”

“I didn’t accuse you of anything,” You reminded him gently.

“Don’t patronize me!” He snapped, pushing you back into your chair as he harshly let go of your shirt and reached both hands up to lock behind his head as he began pacing, “It’s not like any of them didn’t have it coming! Those sons of a bitches all deserved to die! Every last one of them!”

He was beginning to spiral, and you knew it. There was no other explanation for the blatant disregard for the fact that he had denied committing the murders before proceeding to tell you that he did in fact do them.

“Do you really believe that?” You asked calmly, “What did those people really do to you? Did you even know them? Did you know if they had families? If they were good people or not?” You were pushing him, and you knew it, but you needed to stall, do anything to keep him here instead of going out and killing more people. Hopefully if you stalled long enough, then your team would have found where you were and come to your rescue.

“Shut up!” He stormed over to you with a shout, “I said shut up!” Without another warning, he threw his fist into your face, making it snap to the side for the second time as your lip painfully split open.

“I just want to help you-“

He hit you again, effectively making you stop talking.

Run boy run, they’re dying to stop you

“I want every inch of that forest searched for any sign of a building or house.” Hotch informed the chief sternly, “No stone left unturned. We need to find this unsub and we need to find him now.”

He received a nod in return before the chief turned around and began barking orders to all the other officers, who immediately sprang into action.

“We’ll split up,” The man turned to his team as he spoke, “All of us into two cars searching the most likely spots.”

He received a nod and they all immediately broke into two groups, not wasting another second before scrambling out of the station and into the cars.

“I’m worried about her,” JJ admitted to Aaron and Spencer softly as the three of them piled into the first car, “I know she’s tough, but that doesn’t stop my worrying.”

Hotch sighed, beginning to drive away, “I know, me neither.”

“She’ll be alright,” Spencer whispered, seemingly trying to convince himself more than anyone else, and the other two let him, knowing that they needed those comforting words just as much as he did.

Run boy run, this race is a prophecy

“You!” Punch. “Stupid!” Punch. “Bitch!” Punch.

You spit out a wad of blood after he had finished his miniature meltdown and took stumbling steps backwards, reaching up while out of breath and running a hand through his hair.

“So what now?” He asked, only slightly out of air by that point, “Your little team comes to rescue you and I go to prison for the rest of my life for doing something that shouldn’t even be wrong?”

“Why did you kill those people?” You needed to keep him talking, “Why wasn’t it wrong?”

“Th-they pissed me off,” He huffed out angrily, “They had no right to do that- no right. No right.” He shook his head back and forth.

“So you killed them?”

His face turned into a hard glare once more, “Shut up!” He roared, another punch coming to your face less than a second later.

Run boy run! Break out from society

“There!” Emily called, leaning forward and pointing to a rundown shack in between a bunch of trees, in a small clearing towards the middle of the woods.

Derek pulled the car to a quick stop and they all hopped out, calling to inform the police and the rest of the team.

He began tapping his foot impatiently, looking as if he were about to run in without any back up at any moment.

“We have to wait,” David told him as calmly as he could, trying to mask his own worry for everyone’s sake.

Morgan tan his hand over his head, “We don’t know what’s going on in there, man.” He insisted desperately, “What if-“

“Hey,” Emily cut him off slightly sternly, “No ‘what if’ questions. She’s gonna be safe and so are we.”

Tomorrow is another day

“They didn’t have to die.” Despite being hit over and over again, you couldn’t seem to shut up, “You didn’t have to kill them.”

“Stop talking,” The unsub dropped his head into his hands.

“Why is it you haven’t killed me yet?” You asked.

“Because you could be of some use to me.” He grumbled with a glare.

“Or maybe you don’t want to kill me,” You offered, internally cringing at the thought of possibly of just having pushed him over the edge, “You know it’s wrong.”

“Nah, nah.” He shook his head, “I just- I just don’t need the FBI on my ass.” He nodded along with his own words, “Yeah, just don’t want them coming after me.”

And you won't have to hide away

“Took you long enough,” Morgan sighed impatiently, pushing off from where he leant against the car as soon as the others pulled in with the police cars right behind them.

“I want you and your officers to form a perimeter around this building.” Hotch immediately told the chief, “Nobody comes in or out of here without my permission.”

Quickly, the entire team put on vests and prepared themselves for going inside.

“Let’s go,” Aaron said as soon as everyone was ready, taking out his gun and leading the way into the cabin.

The inside was disgusting and looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in over thirty years, but nobody focused on those details as they strained their ears to try and listen out for you.

Finally, the sound of voices carried through the floor, letting them know that you and the unsub were in the basement.

Needing only a glance to communicate, they all immediately made a single file with their guns raised and trekked down the stairs, ready for whatever was waiting for them at the bottom.

You'll be a man, boy

Your ears perked up the tiniest bit at the sound of a floorboard creaking from above you, and you automatically knew that your team had been able to find you in time.

All you had to do was stall him for a few moments longer.

But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

All at once, the team rushed into the only room that had the door firmly closed. And though Morgan kicked it in with ease, there was a rare, dangerous look on his face that could have made anyone he didn’t know shit themselves.

The sight of you, doubled over with blood running down your face, staining your clothes, and making you groan had all of their hearts stop for a minute.

“What the hell-“ The unsub wasn’t even able to finish his sentence before Hotch had cleared across the room and delivered one solid, swift punch to the man’s jaw, effectively knocking him out immediately.

It was silent for a moment as everyone’s chests rose and fall in pants, “There will be no discussion of that.” He said after a moment.

There was a teasing smile on your face despite the gore running down it as you replied with, “What do you mean? He attacked you first. It was only self defense.”

JJ immediately rushed to where you sat, crouching down and untying the ropes that still dug into your wrists.

“Are you alright?” David dropped down in front of you, gently moving some of your fallen hair out of the way so he could inspect you further.

“I knew you guys would get here.” You grinned despite the clear pain you were in, “Just had to stall him for long enough.”

“You actually did a surprisingly good job.” Spencer began ranting, “Normally, he would have killed you a long time ago and-“

“Reid.” Aaron cut him off, “Lets just be grateful that that didn’t happen.”

The man cleared his throat, cheeks turning red, “Yes, of course.”

“Come on,” Emily helped you to your feet, wrapping your arm around her shoulder, “Let's get you to a medic.”

“Hey, guys?” They all paused as you spoke, “Thank you. For coming to get me, I mean.”

“Next time you get kidnapped,” Derek joked with a lopsided grin, “You’re saving yourself.”

Everyone was able to crack a small laugh at his words.

BAU Agents 📁- @kiyomi-uchiha777

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playbucky · 11 months ago

Text

Operation Safe House | 2 |

Price needs a safe house, you have a safe house. Should be an easy deal, right? Well when he and the team appear in the middle of the night, you come across Ghost, Gaz and Soap, all who are unsure of you an the solitude that you have. The solitude that will soon beep broken when the people they are hunting show up unannounced. Characters - Reader (Reaper), Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz. Word Count - 2k.

Part 1

‘Samuel, it’s Samuel Reagan.’ You faltered at their name, you looked at his broken fingers, they were bloody and had started to turn purple. ‘Who?’ ‘You heard me.’ He leaned closer, you clenched your jaw as you brought the rolling pin down, it connected with his fingers again. ‘Why is he here?’ You asked. ‘You helped the wrong people last month.’ Percy breathed out, your brows furrowed. ‘The two girls?’ You asked, not saying their names but he nodded. ‘Anya was his wife.’ He informed you. ‘You’re kidding?’ You said, he shook his head, ‘she was barely twenty.’ ‘Nineteen and he wants to know where they are.’ Percy said, you shook your head and stood up. ‘How did you know it was me?’ You quizzed, Percy chuckled and followed you up. ‘One of his men got close enough to watch, he was going to get in but you moved them before he could do anything.’ He explained, you pursed your lips. ‘And the team?’ You questioned and pointed behind you, they had fallen silent momentarily. ‘He hired me and I knew that if they were pushed hard enough they would go to a safe house.’ He said, you dropped the rolling pin onto the floor as you pushed up. ‘When is he coming?’ ‘Soon.’ ‘How soon?’ You asked, leaned his head back as he gave a tired smile. ‘You’ll find out.’ He commented, something snapped inside you before your arm swung forward and connected with his jaw, it cracked and he went backwards, the chair toppled with him. You went to climb on top of him but a large arm wrapped around your stomach and pulled you away, you fought against the person but they didn’t budge. ‘As much as we want to see you do it, now isn’t the time.’ Ghost stated as he set you down, you turned to him. You went to object but them movement on the security cameras caught your attention. You stalked away from the group and sat at the computer, you typed furiously and deleted anything that connected anyone that had came through the building. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘You need to leave.’ You told them, you stood up and pushed the chair back before you picked your computer up and dropped it to the ground, you stomped it a few times as the screen shattered. ‘Y/N who is Reagan to you?’ ‘Y/N -,’ a large bang filled the room, everyone ducked before guns were pulled out and aimed. ‘Looks like it stands up to a rocket launcher.’ You commented, you looked at the footage and noticed the large group of men that surrounded the house. ‘You guys should leave now.’ You told the four men who were bewildered by your calmness. ‘Reaper.’ ‘Reaper?’ Percy chuckled, you snapped around to him before you made eye contact with Price. ‘Take your team and leave, through the back.’ ‘What about you?’ Price asked, you titled your head to the side. ‘I’ll be fine.’ ‘I’m not leaving Captain.’ Soap said, you ignored him as you walked over and bent over Percy, his eyes widened before you freed his limbs of the ropes and pulled him up. ‘Neither am I sir.’ Gaz added, Percy tried to fight you but you grabbed his destroyed hand and twisted it behind his back so you could guide him to the area in front of the cracked door. Price looked at Ghost, eyebrow raised under the hat as Ghost tilted his head, Price sighed at the unanimous vote that everyone made. You kept Percy in front of you, your free hand moved along the wall before you found the panel. ‘Y/N.’ ‘Sorry boys.’ You apologised as you pressed the button and the heavy glass panelled door slid over, they tried to get through but it was useless.

They thumped against the glass before they stopped, you lifted your pistol of the counter it had been sat on earlier and moved, your back against the wall. Percy tensed up when you rested the gun on his shoulder, aimed at the door. Another loud bang filled the house, brightness seeped in from outside as you ducked behind Percy, muffled voices sounded before Percy’s head was flung back, his blood coating everything. Before his body dropped to the ground another shot was fired, you were flung into the wall, a bullet lodged in your chest the gun fell from your hand. The task force watched as you smiled, Reagan appeared, he turned his head to the panel and then back to you. It was a two-way panel. ‘Gaz, get this open.’ Ghost commanded, he moved to the edge were it should be connected to the panel. They watched as you and Reagan talked, your lips moving as your face remained stoic, Reagan got angrier. Suddenly he lurched forward, his wide hand wrapped around your throat as he straightened your back, leaning closer to you and whispered into your ear. He pulled back with a smile that you returned, your leg jerked out, his knee went backwards and he dropped down. You leaned down and moved to beside his ear, you silently told him something as your hand slid into his suit jacket, you pulled it out to reveal the silver gun pressed against his chest. ‘Got it.’ Gaz announced, the door slid open as you fired the gun. Reagan slouched and you waited for the waves of bullets to come your way but you were quickly pulled the to side and Soap and Ghost fired out the front door. Price guided you to the couch and lowered you into it, you yelled when he pressed down on the bullet wound. He yanked you forward to see if there was an exit wound, which there wasn’t, he leaned you back. ‘Need to get you to a hospital love.’ He said, the heel of his hand pressed against the bleed. ‘I told you to leave.’ You tired to pull away from the pressure. ‘Not gonna happen.’ Ghost said, you glared at him as he and Soap walked back over, you noticed the pile of bodies at the front door. ‘Who opened the door?’ ‘I did ma’am.’ Gaz said, you groaned at being called that before you noticed the whole in the wall, the cables pulled out and sliced. ‘Hope your gonna pay to get that fixed.’ You joked, Gaz’s lips curled and he looked away. ‘Soon as you’re better ma -,’ ‘Call me ma’am one more time, please, try it.’ You warned him, he stopped and took a step back. ‘Stop threatening my team, you should be focused on getting out of here.’ Price said, you slid your eyes to him before you sighed. ‘Press the star key and then leave.’ You gritted out. ‘What?’ ‘You can’t be linked to any of this, you can’t be in the system, they will be here within ten minutes so you’ve got to go.’ You told them, they shook their heads. ‘We aren’t -,’ ‘Leave.’ You snarled, you pulled away from Price and pressed your own hand against the wound.

You stepped through the automatic doors, the busy hospital gave way to the chaotic street, silence was hard to find here. You inhaled deeply, wincing as your shoulder pulled in the sling. Rolling your neck you turned and went to walk away but a loud whistle pulled you from your thoughts. ‘Need a ride love?’ Price called out, you looked at the group that waited around the black jeep, Ghost situated in the front passenger seat whilst Gaz and Soap leaned out the back window and waved. ‘What are you guys doing here?’ You quizzed as you walked over to them so the conversation wasn’t being shouted. ‘Thought you might need a pick-up.’ He said. ‘I can get the bus.’ You motioned to the bus stop about twenty feet away. ‘You saved us, we can give you a ride back home.’ Gaz commented from the back, you look at him. ‘I don’t have a home anymore.’ You reminded them. ‘Yeah, you do.’ ‘Pretty sure it’s in pieces.’ ‘With us, you’ve got a spot with us.’ Price said, your brows furrowed as you looked at him. ‘What?’ ‘We discussed it and talked to our bosses, and we think it’d be good for you to join us, become part of the one four one.’ Price said, you looked to the group who watched you expectantly. ‘I can’t impose.’ You held your good hand up. ‘You aren’t, we offered, you can say yes or no either way you will be seeing us.’ Price said, you raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a threat?’ ‘It’s a promise.’ Ghost spoke up, you looked at him before you sighed. ‘We don’t want to replace the team that you lost,’ you lowered your head, ‘but we want you to became part of us, you belong taking down bad guys and helping behind the lines instead of sitting in a house waiting for them to stumble onto you.’ Price said, you rolled your neck. ‘When would I start?’ ‘Now?’ Price said, ‘we’re heading back to base to write up reports and gather ourselves before we head out.’ He finished, you nodded. ‘Okay.’ ‘Soap, Gaz move over.’ Ghost told the men as they did, Price reached for the door and opened it for you.

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