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system-to-the-madness · 6 months

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My Cards - Spencer Reid x Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort Word Count: 2 916 Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence (abduction, murder), mentions of drug use in the past Summary: At the day that Spencer is clean for eleven years, he decides it’s time to show you his cards. A/N: I've got a few asorted fics that I've writen ages ago, and will publish one after another (might sprinkle some anime and soc in between). Sorry for that already. If you want to block a certain fandom: the tag to blog is #mad (fandom shortcut) for criminal minds, that would be #mad cm

13 years. That’s how long Spencer Reid was your colleague already. Actually – he would correct you – it had been 13 years, 1 month, 2 weeks, 5 days, 14 hours, 7 minutes and approximately 26 seconds.

You were not sure for how long he had been your best friend. Probably 12 years. Spencer would not have been able to answer that question if you had asked him. After all this time he still sometimes struggled in accepting that there was someone he could call whenever, literally whenever he needed someone.

You had been with him through thick and thin, had been there for him after he had been abducted by Hankel, had comforted him, when he had cried for Hotch and Jack after Hayley had been murdered, had talked until the early hours of the morning after Emily had supposedly died. You had never been further than a phone call away, had never complained when he called you in the late hours of the night because he had had another nightmare, had cooked him tea or watched trashy soap operas with him when he had felt down.

He wondered if he had ever paid you back enough. Whether the few times you had called him after a nightmare or a traumatic event or a bad case would ever be enough to make up for what you had given him. With you around, his flat felt like a home, with you on the other end of the sofa he did not worry about the shadows lingering in the corners of the room.

He felt like a pervert for the many times he had asked you to share a bad with him, so he could fall asleep more easily. Every time, without fail you had climbed under the covers with him, maybe even wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back, lulling him to sleep. He hated himself for all the times he had reached out a hand while you were sleeping, to feel if you were really there, if your skin was warm, your chest lifting and lowering with even breaths.

People often liked calling him a genius, but it had taken him many years to figure out that somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with you after you had prevented his complete self-destruction over Maeve‘s death. He felt guilty for it, for having fallen in love with you while you had helped him grieve another woman he had loved, and somewhere in his heart still did. One night you had told him, that he would always carry the people he had once loved in his heart. He had asked how it would ever be possible for someone to accept him if a part of him still loved someone else. You had shrugged at that and answered, that this person would have to understand that we are made off who and what we love, that this way Maeve had become a part of him, which this person would love too, if they loved him. He had nodded at that, and wondered if you could ever love him.

When he had first realised his feelings for you, he had thought his heart wanted to numb itself by making up emotions for you to forget about Maeve, but after years he felt just as strongly about you as he had back then, and he came to the conclusion that maybe he had always loved you, deep in his heart.

12 years. That’s how long you had been friends with Spencer. And yet you had the distinct feeling, that tonight was different, that tonight was not his usual call for comfort. He had been nervous, when he had asked you if you wanted to come back to his place after work, and he had never been nervous around you before.

Now you stood in his living room, your shoes kicked off next to the door, just like his, your jacket on the coatrack, half covered by his. Usually you had no trouble to make yourself at home, but Spencer’s behaviour, his nervousness, made you feel like this was the very first time you had stepped into his flat, so you stood in the living room, fiddling with your fingers, while Spencer was searching for something in his bedroom.

When he emerged back into the living room, he tossed you something, which you barely caught. Confused you turned a coin in your hands, the dim light not allowing you to read the lettering immediately, but then you made it out.

“10 years?”

You held up the coin to take an even closer look, but other than that, and a small symbol, you could not find anything else edged into it.

“Is that a sobriety coin,” you asked, handing it back to Spencer, who took the coin back and let it wander through his fingers.

“It is,” he nodded, letting the coin disappear into seemingly thin air, presenting his empty palms to you before he sat down on the sofa.

You tried thinking back to ten years ago, and what had happened back then. Somewhat over eleven years ago Hankle had kidnapped him-

Spencer seemed to have interpreted your focused expression correctly, because without further prompting he explained.

“Dilaudid. Hankel injected me with it repeatedly. I- I developed an addiction.”

For a long while you looked at him as he was fiddling around with the coin again. You had always suspected that there had been a phase soon after the Hankle incident in which something had been off. You had basically lived at his place for half a year, since he had called you every night, asking you to come over. You had never hesitated to do so, your desire to comfort your friend also driven by the worry he might do something stupid. Like give in to an addiction. You should have confronted him about it, should have asked. Actually, you had thought about it, countless times, but always come to the conclusion, that he would only deny everything and shut himself off. You had let him suffer on his own, he had never, until today, felt comfortable enough to tell you about it. Maybe you could have helped him. Maybe-

“Actually, it’s eleven years today,” he suddenly said, and lifted his head to look at you. The coin was, once again, gone. “I just… I wanted to spend today with you, instead of going to a meeting.”

“I-”

The voice died in your throat at Spencer’s soft, lopsided smile, the smile he always gave you when he knew exactly what you were thinking, but also knew it was wrong.

“You think you should have said something back then, don’t you?”

You nodded quietly and watched him lean back into the cushions.

“Would you believe me if I told you that you’re the person, who actually helped me to get clean?”

He chuckled at your furrowed brows and patted the space next to him on the sofa, but you remained standing, rooted in spot. You had no right to sit next to him, to be here in his apartment, to be anywhere near the man you had let down knowingly.

“You left a flyer here once, for the community centre,” Spencer explained.

You remembered the flyer. You had spent hours upon hours looking up drug addiction in law enforcement until you had come across a newly funded self-help group in a new community centre not too far away from his flat. After work you had driven by there and picked up a flyer, which a couple of days later you had put onto Spencer’s table, telling him you were interested in one of the pottery classes, and if he wanted to go with you. The advertisement for the pottery class had been right underneath that for the self-help group and been your boldest attempt at ever confronting him.

“Without that flyer, I never would have had the courage to get help,” Spencer confessed. “Other than you, of course.”

“What did I do,” your voice almost was not loud enough for him to hear, drowned by tears that now also blurred your vision. “I just left you alone, I-”

“You always came when you called,” he explained, “I wanted you over as much as possible so I wouldn’t have time for the next fix. I- well I practically used your compassion to get clean.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

Spencer’s smile slowly died, and he pressed his lips together, a clear sign that he knew the answer but felt uncomfortable sharing it.

After a moment of deafening silence, he answered. “I was scared you’d be disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed? Spencer I could never-”

“It was easier to believe that than to accept the truth, that there really might be a person who would care for me either way, no matter how much I fucked up,” he confessed. “It’s still- I still struggle to accept sometimes that you are always here for me. Like… nobody ever really cared about me, other than my mum, and yet… you’ve been here every time I needed you, for years.”

“Not every time. I should’ve-”

“Every single time. And I just can’t understand why you would do that to yourself.”

“Because you’re my friend, Spencer. And I wanted to help you. Just like you helped me, too, when I needed help.”

“When did I help you?”

“You were the first one to check in on me whenever I had to shoot someone. You always make soup when I’m sick, you come over when I have nightmares, or am just lonely. You take me out to movies when I whine about not having a social life, you read me to sleep, sometimes for hours. Do you even realise how much you helped me all these years? Without you I would’ve quit the BAU a long time ago, but with you I can face the demons.”

Spencer looked at you, really looked at you. The soft orange light of the reading lamp beside the couch made his brown eyes glow like ambers. Neither of you turned away, just blinked occasionally. You wanted to tell him, then and there, that you loved him, that you had loved him for years, but you figured that there were some truths your friendship could not withstand. Maybe Spencer had felt that way about his addiction the whole time too. You wondered if there would ever be a time where you could tell him ‘hey Spencer, actually back then, I was totally in love with you and thought I’d spent the rest of my life with you’, and then you’d laugh about it. You blinked the thought away.

“Why did you tell me now,” you wondered, being the first to break the silence.

“I figured, after eleven years, it’s time to tell someone. So tonight I’m showing you my cards.”

“Cards? Plural?”

“There is one more thing.” Spencer got up from where he had been sitting on the couch, but did not step closer while your thoughts were reeling.

One more thing. Another secret he had never told you. Had he been diagnosed with schizophrenia? No, statistically he was too old for that. Dementia? His mother had it, and sometimes even young people got diagnosed with it. No, probably not, you would have noticed. Was he leaving the BAU? Did he have cancer?

“Whatever world ending scenarios you’re coming up with right now, it’s none of that, I promise you,” he spoke quietly. You hated how well he knew you. Well, not hated, but.. well.

“Is it bad,” you asked, watching how he started fiddling around with his hands again. He suddenly got nervous.

“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice a little higher than before. “It depends, I guess.”

“On what?”

“You.” His answer made your heart sink. “But things will be different, no matter what.”

“I don’t want things to be different,” you shook your head, silent panic rising in your chest. “I like the way things are now.” Quickly you took a few steps across the living room right to him and grabbed one of his hands. “I don’t want things to change!”

“And I don’t want to keep secrets, so please let me be honest.”

For a moment you looked at him, at his beautiful brown eyes, which had brought you comfort for so many years, at his wild, brown curls, at his dress shirt and the loosened tie, and the soft cardigan, and then his eyes again. If you allowed him to speak, you might lose everything you had had with him. He had been your anchor, long before you had developed feelings for him, but now that you had, you wanted to fight, so you did not have to give him up.

But he was his own person. Earlier or later, he would tell you. And he had said whether that secret was bad or not depended on you, so you needed to be ready to accept what he was about to tell you, just like that time your high school crush had confessed to you that he was gay and you had ended up with setting him up with his crush. They were married now. So, whatever it was-

Slowly you nodded, and Spencer’s previously tense features softened slightly. His eyes skipped over your face, making you feel strange self-aware, and his fingers tightened around yours, from where you had taken his hand; a comforting squeeze. Carefully he shuffled closer and bent down. For a moment you thought he might kiss you, but of course he would not do that. Yet he did not lean to your ear either. He just looked at you for a moment, making you hold your breath.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your lips hotly, “That’s my last secret. I’m in love with you and have been for the past three years. What you do with that information is now up to you.”

For a moment you did not move, did not dare moving, just stared at him with your heart hammering in your chest. You were an excellent profiler, had studied human behaviour for soon 20 years, had learnt to recognise what lying looked like. Spencer was not lying. Maybe you were dreaming, but even then-

A flicker of your eyes to his lips was all it took for Spencer to lurch forward and close the remaining distance between your lips. He was not gentle as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in, but rather desperate, desperate to finally feel you as close as he had always dreamt of, desperate to taste your lips and feel your breath. Hoping to find anything to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around him too, slid one hand into his fine locks, the other gripping tightly into his soft cardigan.

Kissing him was nothing like you had imagined it to be, but so much better. He was careful and yet demanding, and he slipped his tongue over your lips and into your mouth, gentle but unrelenting in the way he held you, walked you back to the couch, where he slowly lowered you down, before sitting down next to you, never breaking the kiss. Faintly you felt his heartbeat in his lips and under his skin, hammering hard, testimony of how much he had wanted this. And with each touch of his, your own guilt over the feelings you had developed for him slowly melted away and left nothing but hot, searing love in its path.

Only when you were out of breath, lips red and swollen, cheeks hot, did you pull away, gently shoved against Spencer’s chest, who was still trying to chase your lips. His eyes were wide and glassy as he finally met yours, still completely entranced, and yet confused as to why you had pulled away.

“Enough,” you commanded with shivering voice and a smile on your face, “enough, I need air.”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbled, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he started building up his walls, already searching for an excuse to explain what just had happened.

Not wanting to allow this, you quickly grabbed his face in your hands, and forced him to look at you. His cheeks were hot, and his eyes danced around uncertainly, before finally resting on yours.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered, and leant forward to peck his lips, before quickly hiding your face against his neck. You barely saw his look of doubt turn into that of surprise before a smile took over his face.

“Oh,” he repeated, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer against his chest. He smelled divine. Like safety, like home.

“Can we just stay like this forever,” you asked, you voice muffled against his skin.

“Actually-” from his tone of voice you could tell he would doubtlessly tell you how long it would either of you approximately take, until one of you needed the bathroom or something to eat, but then he stopped himself. “Yes.”

You chuckled against his neck, causing a shiver to run through him and goosebumps to rise on his arms. Gently you brushed your lips against his skin, not getting enough of how soft it felt. Forever was probably not long enough.

You had been colleagues with Spencer for 13 years, his best friend for 12. But from tonight on you also were his lover.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x yn #tw: drugs #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: abduction #mad stories #mad cm

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fantasiesnfairytales · 8 days

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Auctioned off || Open Starter

Mia had been in the same facilty for a good decade it felt like now. So when she was informed that she'd be relocating, it had really thrown her off. She feared the worse, because she knew what the people here thought of her and her kind. For all she knew, relocating could mean an end to her life to them. Or it could have meant a tranfer to a newer facility that maybe had even worse equipment that could be used to test on her. She wasn't sure which of the two sounded worse.

Regardless, the mutant found that cooperating was always the best course of action. She had fought a bit at the beginning of her stay here and the consequences were far worse than some of the testing they'd done to her. Which probably spoke volumes in itself to anyone who'd witnessed that testing. It was late in the evening when two of the guards approached her holding cell. She had been fitted with a collar that counteracted any of her mutant genes. One she'd had on for a while now that they could remotely activate or deactivate when it suited then. Right now the green light was on indicating it was absolutely keeping her abilities at bay. Not surprising to her. They never came into her room when it was deactivated.

She stayed toward the back of the room watching as they pulled out the rope and blindfold. Mia's blue eyes widening with fear. "Blindfold.." she questioned instantly earning herself a glare from those handling the items. "#6570 step forward, slowly, strip out of your robes, and get on your knees, with your hands in front of you" one of the men spoke. They never called her by name, it was too personable. She did as she was told, despite not understanding. Her wrists were tied tightly in front of her, before the blindfold was slipped over her eyes. Before she could attempt to express any concerns or question where she was going, she felt the metal press agaisnt her lips. A gag…she resisted that just a bit before it was tugged in roughly and locked into place.

Where she was led next she wasn't sure, not until she could feed the cool breeze indicating for the first time in years she might be outside? Then the sound of metal door opening and she was pushed inside of what she could only assume was a vehicle. It sounded like someone was on the phone, indicating that she was to be delivered soon.

#c: Mia #open starter #tw: abduction #tw: dark themes #tw: kidnapping #tw: auction

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walkitoffrogers · 8 months

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muse: Steve Rogers (MCU/616 mashup) limit: 18+ only please, mutuals and non-mutuals set: 51st Street subway station in NYC, any Earth/dimension; 2.5 years post-snap (MCU timeline); immediately after the events of Castaway in Dimension Z (616 timeline) open to: other Marvel/comics muses, multifandom crossovers, ocs, whatever! triggers: death/child death, self-harm, severe injury/blood, brainwashing, explosions, abduction

Eleven years. It had been hard to keep track of the time in Zola's dimension, where even the sun and stars didn't move in any predictable pattern, but he'd been able to guess at the number watching his son grow up. In truth, he had no idea who Ian shared his genetics with. He didn't want to hazard a guess at where or how Zola had procured an infant in a test tube, but regardless of the biology, Ian was his kid. He'd raised him, fought for him, told him stories of the Avengers to help him fall asleep, taught him how to use the shield, how to use his gifts to protect. He knew Zola had been trying to recreate the super soldier serum, and to some extent it must have worked. Ian was stronger and faster than the average human, but he was good too, not a trace of Zola in him.

And now he was gone. Ian. Sharon. Jet. The portal back to Dimension Z destroyed when the subway tunnel collapsed behind him. Steve didn't know how he was cursed to be the last man standing every time. The one who threw himself on grenades and punched Nazis and arm-wrestled Titans, and he was still here, against all odds, even when he would have preferred to lay down his life for the ones he loved. It was harder, Steve knew, to be the one who carried on. Before Z, it had been Thanos, half the universe snapped away in an instant. God, it felt like a lifetime ago. He didn't know, yet, that time moved differently in Dimension Z, and only minutes had passed in his world, leaving him a man out of time, once again.

Assuming he didn't bleed out on this dirty floor. He'd stumbled off the inter-dimensional elevator, tucked away inside a subway station, and that was far as he got before he slumped to the ground, back to the concrete wall, defeat heavy on his shoulders. The stab wound in his abdomen was self-inflicted and still trickling blood where he'd tried to carve out whatever Zola had infected him with--his own consciousness, it felt like. He'd had that fucker's voice in his head for a decade, but it was quiet now.

He might have drifted, but the sound of footsteps snapped his head up. On your feet, soldier. Can't just sit here and wait to die. You listen close, Steven. You always stand up. He pressed a hand over the wound, not quite stifling a groan as he hauled himself to his feet. Steve's pain tolerance would put most people on their knees, but goddamn, that hurt. "Hello?" he called. The shield still hung on his arm, battered and scratched from a decade in hell, much like Steve himself. He wasn't even positive the elevator had brought him back to his own dimension following the explosions, but the sign on the wall still said 51st street, so that was something.

#indie starter #mcu rp #indie mcu rp #marvel rp #indie marvel rp #open starter #spoilers #castaway in dimension z #tw: death #tw: child death #tw: severe injury #tw: blood #tw: brainwashing #tw: explosions #tw: abduction #tw: self-harm #verse: castaway

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kit-williams · 4 months

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Automat

Yandere Iron Hands gonna be honest this is my least favorite chapter but the male lead might show up again if we decide to try our hand at Chaos [loyal legion] or Loyal [Chaos legion] boys lol

tw: Body horror, technophilia, dubcon/noncon, abduction, Yandere

She ran the numbers again as the servitor slowly put her arm back on and she all but slapped its hands away as she grabbed her other mechanical limbs. She had little under two hours to get repaired and leave. She silently wept for the machine spirits in her mechadendrites how they buzzed their litany of errors. But he would be back and she was certain she would be punished for singing to a servitor to enter his room and give her her limbs back.

He shouldn't have gone for a spirit singer if he didn't wish to run the risk of this... a variable he should have known. She whimpered as her leg wasn't connecting right... the abuse her connectors suffered under his hands but she managed. It would make escaping harder but she still had time.

She pulled her red robes over her form as what bit of flesh she had of her body was bruised and marked up for improvements that he wanted to make to her. Oh she felt so dirty as she looked over herself in the mirror, her skin slick from ungence and oil... her connectors overly tuned and sending jolts up her spine and to her core. She felt sick as she would have to adjust her settings to not be trained to expect what was coming next. It was logical for her body to be dreading and equally aroused for what usually happened after he would overclock her connector ports and adjust the sensitivities to be too high.

She didn't have time! She pushed her way out of his room and looked around before quickly moving. She went to the right after seeing that he always entered the door from the left... having learned what the sound of his bootsteps were. The cold sanitized air slipped through the slits on the back of her robes where her mechadendrites would be but she had to go. She was terrified of what Marlos Vauth would do to her if she dallied too long.

She had to warn someone of the malfunction! He was malfunctioning! That's what it had to be. She engaged his curiosity and desire to copulate a few times when the time allowed it. It was hard to not be aroused by the bionic specimen that Iron Hands were and they normally espoused the weakness of flesh the impracticality of emotions. But Brother Vauth kept coming back to her seeking out to crudely "plug and play" but she happily sucked on those usb ports he placed into her mouth... feeling the electronic tingle on her tongue as she was flooded with data streams. Hormone pumps were adjusted and her limbs would spasm occasionally but there was a trust she had put into Vauth when she would give him control over her limbs and their sensitivities.

Several things had blown out or overly stimulated her at once during one of these sessions and soon she found herself in his room. Her limbs on a repair table... her mechadendrites were still operational then but her insistence on repairing her limbs and logical desire to leave aroused the illogical response from him to break her mechadendrites leaving her fully helpless. No way of moving herself or interacting with the world around her. Marlos seemed to derive more pleasure from that fact and she truly felt like a toy from those trashy noosphere pleasure sites. It was all some disturbing plot from one of those too... helpless and at his mercy.

<<Byte where are you>> His message slammed into her skull as she turned off more and more systems to keep him from tracking her. Her breathing became more rapid as she tried to not arouse suspicions weaving through the menials and servitors on her way to escape.

<<BYTE WHERE ARE YOU>> She physically winced and held her head for a moment as his message hurt her mind. <<There you are my little Byte>> Her head whipped over her shoulder seeing Brother Marlos' mass make its way toward her. She would have like to say she reacted logically... that this nightmare would have ended with her messaging the right people... but she would weep until the end of her days as she reacted oh so very much human like... she ran.

It hurt to run due to how overly sensitive her limbs were still registered at but she had to get away! <<BYTE! If you keep running you're only going to be punished more>> She could feel the anger rolling off of that message.

<<LEAVE ME ALONE>> She slammed her message back into him, breaking her self imposed 'silent treatment' of him. She turned a corner a bit too quickly and that loose connector gave out. Her body slammed into the metal floors making her feel so dizzy as her overly sensitive body sent the wrong message to her core and she sobbed out an orgasm.

<<I can smell the mess you've made Byte>> She looks over her shoulder and holds in her binaric scream as he is kneeling right there. She only can pull her body once before his mechadendrite shoves its connector spike into its proper port on her shoulder... too big... to much data flow.

She falls to the ground helpless as she is trying to process the sudden amount of data overwhelming her. Her eye looks to him as she lays there helpless as his mechadendrites move over her form in the same way a close lover may gently caress their partner... reach for their mechadendrites to interlock with each other to increase proximity with each other. << I would beg... but those processes have no bearing on your actions>> She sends to him as she can hear the way his eye zooms on her form.

<<Correct. You have been trouble. Punishments will be doled out to an extent I deem appropriate.>>

<<Statement: You are a monster>>

<<Incorrect Statement. Corrected Statement: I am an Angel of the Emperor>>

<<Defiant jab: I hope you Rust and you malfunction>>

She could hear him 'chuckle' as he grabbed her and pulled her close. <<We will be leaving this location soon. To meet with more appropriate individuals>>

<<Why bother telling me?>>

<<Due to disagreements you might have with them>> Is all he said to her before her world went dark once more.

#tw: body horror #tw: yandere #tw: abduction #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: abuse #Yandere #Yandere Space Marine #Yandere Iron Hand #Iron Hands #Space Marine #warhammer 40k

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clubwnderland · 11 months

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⤷⋆⋆ 𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♡

[pt one]

[This plot contains abuse, violence, kidnapping and mentions of injuries and blood. Read at your own risk]

1 HOUR LEADING UP TO THE INCIDENT

The wolf was busy, he's always busy but he's always checking his phone and replying. Jangmi has been making it her life's mission to make sure he isn't locked away in his studio, even if he tells her that he isn't but the hybrid never believes him.

She messages him as she makes her way home, showing him things that she sees on her walk back to her apartment. It's been a while now since she's been walking home, Chan offering a ride since Jongin's been away but she never wants to make him drive around the city for her. "It'll do me some good, get out and enjoy the sun!" She said with a smile on her face and everyone believed her because it's Jangmi.

Happy, smily Jangmi. Nothing could go wrong.

Until it did.

When she had called him, Chan was putting some finishing touches on the song he was working on, almost ready to be sent off before the weekend. A relief really. "It's okay if you're busy! We can always reschedule!" Despite the words coming out of her mouth, Chan could tell she would be a little bummed out if he didn't make it.

He never disappoints, though.

They continue talking as Chan saves the file, quickly drafting up a message for the person he's sending it to when Jangmi pauses and hums, confused. "What's going on, little fox?"

"Oh, there was a knock on the door but nobody was—" That's when it all happened. It all happened so fast that nothing Chan could do would have been enough — not while he was at the studio.

"Jangmi?" He calls out, standing up so fast that his chair rolls back. He hears her shouts, her screams for help while his hand tightens around his phone and he's forgetting to grab anything, everything but his keys as he's out the door, music still playing on loop. "Jangmi!" He can hear the struggle, smashing as her ornaments fall to the ground and her begging him to leave her alone. "Jangmi!" There's a loud smack then slam and Chan doesn't need to see what's happening to know what had happened; her assailant hit her so hard that her head collided against a hard surface, probably knocking her unconscious considering she went quiet.

So quiet.

He's in a rush, tyres screeching as he throws the car from reverse to drive and speeds off. The phone still to his ear as he hears movement, heavy footsteps getting closer as if the intruder is looking for her phone. "Ah, there you are."

Chan growls, eyes glowing yellow before he catches himself. "I'm going t—"

The call ends. Dead.

20 MINUTES AFTER THE INCIDENT

Chan runs into the building, car still running and sees Seungmin standing at Jangmi's open door, looking at his Alpha with a grim expression. "Hey, Seungmin," Chan's voice is calm, his distress hidden for now as he runs a hand through his hair, "did you find anything?"

Nothing but blood... lots of blood. There's blood drips down to the carpark, Chan could smell and see that but the mess in the apartment is worse than he thought. Glass and porcelain from picture frames and the ornaments Jangmi likes to collect are scattered around the place, an pulled over shelf in the living room, water and flowers on the rug with a broken mirror and vase on the floor shows that Jangmi had thrown it at her attacker. There's patches of her fur stained with blood throughout the apartment as if whoever it was that attacked her ripped it out when she tried to struggle. Blood... her blood is everywhere.

"Chan?" Chan is staring at the indent in the wall, clearly the place where Jangmi was knocked out, his hands balled into fists before Seungmin's voice breaks the silence. "I found her phone."

He knew that the person wouldn't have been stupid enough to take the phone with him but he had hoped... really. The device was smashed, stood on and Chan told himself that when they find Jangmi, he'll get her a new phone.

Hell, she can move in next door to him.

He thinks like that as he looks around, trying to ignore the strong and heavy scent of fear, blood and Jangmi surrounding him as he tries to focus on anything that can stand out to help him figure out who it was that attacked her. He's trying to figure it out but he doesn't know much about her past, never pushing her to open up about things she never wanted to talk about — he wishes he did now to have some clue. "It's not all her blood." He says with finality, he can tell that she managed to hurt her attacker when he notices how there's inconsistency in the patterns if they were from one person. "She must have hurt him." He can't help the small tone of pride in his voice knowing his little fox fought back as best as she could.

He hopes she's still fighting until he can find her.

"Jangmi!" There's a shout from the hallway that causes both Chan and Seungmin to look towards the door. Jongin. "Jang—" He stops dead in the doorway when he sees the mess before him. Chan can see it, the fear that swells behind his eyes as he takes it all in and then he can see it all shift to pure rage as the older wolf's scent changes. "He has her."

Chan doesn't need to ask who it is that Jongin's speaking of when there's only ever been one person who she's lived in fear of.

"We'll find her, Jongin." Chan says, trying to calm the older down but he's brushed off as Jongin does his own search, noticing a slightly shaking Channie still in the doorway, eyes wide as they look at each other.

"She'll be okay," his voice is calm but it's all a rouse. Deep down, he's hoping she is. He's hoping there's a clue somewhere that'll help them. Fuck, he's hoping they can bring her home.

ABDUCTED

The car jostles as it goes over a speed bump faster than it should have and the fox groans as she comes to, trying to touch her head that had hit the roof of the boot hard enough that it woke her up.

Except she can't.

This is when Jangmi starts to panic, everything is dark, she smells blood and dirt and metal with loud noises hurting her sensitive ears. Everything happened at once, it all happened and she couldn't do anything to protect herself because she's weak. She should have known better than to think that he didn't know where she was. That she was going to be okay. She should have known that her old master had eyes everywhere and that the only reason she was safe was simply because she was never alone.

Until she got too comfortable.

Her hands are tied behind her back, her ankles tied together while her mouth is gagged and Jangmi doesn't have enough energy to shift or to fight. Everything hurt, she feels dizzy and sore and even if she could shift — she is sure they'd find a way to trap her.

She's helpless and nobody knows where she is.

Or, where she's going.

#post: jangmi #tw: abduction

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comment-exchange · 10 days

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335. His Sondra (Jo Jo's Bizarre Adventure)

Title: His Sondra

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37572019

Platform: AO3

Creator: temperamentalGuile

Work Type: Fanfic

Fandom: Jo Jo's Bizarre Adventure

Rating: T

Pairing: Kakyoin Noriaki/Kujo Jotaro

Word count: 1,418

Warnings: yandere! Jotaro Kujo, abduction

Number of comments: 0

Completion Status: Complete

Short summary/description: When Kakyoin is fleshbudded by an enemy stand user for the second time, Jotaro Kujo takes drastic measures to ensure his Sondra is never harmed again.

#submission #jo jo's bizarre adventure #Kakyoin Noriaki/Kujo Jotaro #ff #ao3 #knxkj #jjba #1k #0c #temperamentalGuile #tw: abduction #complete #one shot #fanficton #archive of our own

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merelyplxyers · 8 months

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open to f TW: dub/noncon; abduction plot: Ulfr travelled the sea, following an old map and ending up in the Mediterranean. He expected to come home with a boat full of riches, but instead he caught himself a pretty princess (bonus points for a severe language barrier)

Ulfr hadn't expected to spend as much time away from home as he did. The seasons there must have changed more than once, considering how much higher the draw of water of their ships was, filled with all the riches they had found in the lands that were so far away. It was only on their way back, though, that he caught himself the greatest treasures of all. A woman so ravishingly beautiful that she had to be blessed by Freya herself. Taking her for himself hadn't even been a decision he made, it was his instinct kicking in. Shielding her from the other men and making it perfectly clear that he would break every bone in the body of the man who would even attempt to make a move on her. What was a lot harder than keeping his men at bay though was keeping his own desires in check, and now with his hometown showing up on the horizon, he knew that his long wait was finally over. His eyes wandered back from the settlement in the distance to her, wrapped in the furs he had given her, knowing that this rough and cold climate was not something that she was used to. He couldn't wait to finally discover the beautiful curves she was hiding under there and with the long winter nights just around the corner, he would have more than enough time to explore every inch of her beautiful body.

#indie rp #indie smut rp #indie period rp #indie viking rp #indie kink rp #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: abduction #{{test muse alert}}

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wildlixg · 7 months

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♛ → THE NORTH presents HADIS, the WOODS WITCH of HOUSE HARCLAY. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought BOTH would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the THIRTY year old CIS-WOMAN who was ZEALOUS & UNSWERVING before they saw the first of the flames, is now UNFORGIVING & WARY after seeing the last. they’re often associated with calloused hands dirtied with mud, watchful eyes in the thick of trees, a home that you can never return to.

updated (9/23/23)

TW: ABDUCTION, BRIEF DEATH MENTIONS

BASICS

name— hadis

titles & alias’— clanwoman of harclay, woods witch

gender— cis woman

pronouns— she/her

romantic & sexual orientation— aromantic, pansexual

age— thirty

place of birth— east of antler river, beyond the wall

current residence— with clan harclay, currently in court as a lady in waiting

PERSONALITY.

positive traits— zealous, unswerving, tba

negative traits— unforgiving, wary, tba

likes— hunting, fighting, killing, watching the stars, traveling, sailing

dislikes— nights watch, the houses in the north, time spent inside, conversing/pleasantries/gossip, law and order

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

eye color— moss green

hair color— dry wavy hair that is dirty blonde

hair style— she usually wears it in a loose braid down her back, during events it is down and free

complexion— light, freckled from the sun, ruddy in the face

build— athletic

height— 6'1

clothing— heavy matted furs, patched linens and old leather, tall black boots, faded smocks with trousers, the occasionally gown that had the least amount of patches that doesn't exactly fit her.

accessories & jewelry— a single carved stone that she wears around her neck, the only piece of home she has

faceclaim— frida gustavsson

RELATIONSHIPS.

parents— unnamed mother and father

siblings— five deceased siblings, seven unnamed living

spouse— one of the clansmen of harclay, wanted connection

children— one, a boy named ras

pets— a dark bay coloured horse

MISC.

religion— follower of the old gods

known languages— old tongue, common tongue

BACKSTORY.

hadis had always believed she would live and die in the true north, a life destined for so many like her. the fifth child of twelve, two brothers lost to the raids south of the wall. another one lost climbing it. one sister who died of sickness, another in childbirth. the north was harsh and could be wicked, but it was all she had ever known.

she was stolen away at seventeen, fought tooth and nail, and lost. married into a clan who enjoyed their raiding more than their wives, not that hadis was complaining. her husband of six months died in the south, and hadis quietly moved on. she continued her role as a spearwife in the clan; learning, training, fighting, and killing.

the idea had been hers, a quick quip about knowing when it would be best to attack. she had been ignored and heard. but eventually, someone had entertained the idea, and she was sent to the other side of the wall. she gathered her resources, planned for the right moment, and left. she knew she might never come back, and yet she gladly got on the boat that sailed her to death.

the timing was perfect, chaos of ended war masked her entrance. she traveled the new land with directions from previous raids. spent months in the woods until she stumbled upon the mountain clans, who looked more wildling than the rest. they welcomed her and made a show of hospitality. and soon hadis found a place to stay, it helped keep her hidden under a disguise. close enough to know the workings of the men on the other side.

marriage soon was proposed, one that hadis hesitantly took. she had been with the clan as a woods witch, healing wounds with medicines of the earth, bringing babes from their mothers' wombs. older men often believed every word from her, believing her words were visions of truth. hadis was married after a few months with clan harclay. a year later, hadis had her own child, one that she never wanted. a boy named ras.

NOW.

hadis hadn't expected all that has conspired over the three years since she sailed around the wall. with the tensions of the realm, she still hasn't been able to gather all she wishes to share with her fellow free folk. she feels that she needs to get closer in order for her mission to be a success, and has been given the opportunity to do some as a lady in waiting for princess cassana stark.

WANTED CONNECTION.

her husband: i feel that despite whatever their relationship may be, hadis cares somewhat towards them. not love nor tender feelings, but definitely an understanding with them

#tw: abduction

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beautifulxboy · 22 days

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Don’t underestimate how unhinged Hal can be. He will kidnap your muse and take them in a road trip in his van, take your muses phone, put them on a missing persons register, make them go on hikes, cook food outside with them, show them the most magical views, have the deepest vulnerable conversations that make your muse say things they have never told anyone before and give them a life changing life altering event… all against their will.

Open to f/m/nb 18+ shipping preferred.

Drop me a message if you want to do this thread.

#plot #muse: Hal #starter #roleplay #Rp #tw: kidnapping #tw: abduction #tw: missing person #gay rp #gay roleplay #rp starter

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mybeautifulbeautifuleternal · 2 years

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Part One

They enjoyed your pain. It wasn’t something new to you nor was it a surprise. They had made it clear to you that the louder you screamed, the more you begged and pleaded with them, the more they laughed and smiled. It had been days of various torture techniques, on some sort of schedule that you could never figure out. They didn’t seem to mind it when you eventually passed out from the pain or the dehydration or the hunger.

It wasn’t like that stopped them after all.

However, it had been a quiet few days – only a handful of men coming into your torture chamber (the only correct title for this room, filled with a various but numerous number of tools of the trade topped with concrete walls and drains in the floor for easy cleaning) compared to the nearly endless number that had started your stay with them.

You suspected something was going to happen today that differed from your schedule. The men that had started piling into the room were all smiling and joking about with one another, lining the edge of the room and completely ignoring you. It sent bolts of concern and apprehension through you. John had warned you, even if only briefly, that such things like that were bad. When they started to ignore you, it usually meant that they were done with you.

Minutes later, the man seemingly in charge of this entire operation sauntered into the room and everyone went silent. In his hands, he carried a handful of papers topped with what looked like a photograph. You could see nothing at the range he was at but the sight of him with that coy smile on his lips froze you down to your soul. Nothing good ever came from him coming to you but you knew this was going to be the worst sort of torture yet.

“You know, Mx. Wick, your husband has been very very dedicated to trying to track you down. In fact, a great amount of time and effort had been put in place to throw him off our tracks,” during his slow amble closer to you, you went cross-eyed dizzy with the force you shook your head. You knew you didn’t want to hear what he had to say anymore. Nothing good could come from continuing this conversion. Unfortunately, you rarely got what you wanted in this place. “But this? This might have been the greatest plan we’ve had to date.”

He finally got close enough to you that you could see the photo that was on top of his pile. It was a photo of John in all black, standing over a fresh grave.

The tears that started to pool on your eyes didn’t mask the pleasure the leader had written across his face as he leaned down and made complete eye contact with you. “I have to say Mx. Wick, your funeral was very touching. We shed some tears just watching it.”

The men lining the room burst out laughing but you couldn’t bring yourself to break eye contact.

“We’re so glad your stay has been extended. I can’t wait till I can start sending pictures of your broken and dead body to John. It’ll be a grand time.”

@themerrywhumpofmay

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salemsimss · 1 year

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Beginning | Previous | Next

Transcript under the cut

[Phone vibrates]

[Thud]

Johnny: May, is that you? Gabriel?

Johnny: May, I swear to God. You better not be fucking with me.

Johnny: May?

Johnny: [Sigh] Malaya, I swear to fuck, if this is some sort of prank, it's not funny.

Johnny: What the- [Shove]

Johnny: Fuck!

Meanwhile...

Casper sending a voice message: Hey, just got to the park. Let me know when you're on your way.

Man: Stop. Resisting.

Man: I guess we'll just have to go about it the hard way.

#ss:changes #changes: chapter 6 #the sims #the sims 4 #the sims 4 story #the sims 4 storytelling #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #johnny zest #casper otero #tw: kidnapping #tw: abduction #tw: violence

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bowlerhatwearer · 8 months

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Always there, always watching

TW: Blood, TW: Torture, TW: Abduction

Characters: Margteth Robinson, The Launderer aka Albert Clear, Victor Owens.

Originally written: 9th June 2022

~~~

It was a beautiful afternoon in the town of Mayberry, the sun was shining with not a single cloud shielding its rays, birds were chirping happily in the trees that had been planted on the sidewalk to make it feel more alive and people smiled as they usually did. The young girl with her school bag was walking home as cheerful as her surroundings, sure, school was not always easy, especially the lessons of Mrs.Brunswick but that could not dim her day, she was wondering if father was already at home, but given his job, probably not, so it would be her and mother again, with father returning when she was fast asleep. Maybe on Sunday then, they had breakfast and dinner as the whole family.

Continuing her way on the sidewalk, she noticed a white van having been parked partly on the pavement, occupying at least half of it vertically, but for her size there was no problem, she wouldn’t have to-

Her thoughts were interrupted, as she suddenly heard shouting, but not one that sounded angrily, but rather, desperate coming from the residential building next to her, all the other people who walked on the street, hastened their speed, men who looked down on the ground as they walked near the building, women who pulled their children to make them walk faster.

As if from one moment to another, the girl could no longer hear the sounds surrounding her, not the birds chirping, the cars driving on the street or the people walking and talking, only the voice of the woman.

“No! Please, I-I have children!”

The voice grew clearer and when the girl opened her eyes again, she saw a cat, similar to her, with two men in plain white coats who carried her by having hooked in her arms. One of the two men let out a grunt, before his mouth started to move.

“You should have thought about that, before staining yourself!”

The other let out a cough before speaking.

“Your husband has informed us that your children will be taken care of.”

Frantically the woman tried to free herself, however their grip was tight around her, that was, until she was able to bury her hands into the doorframe, using her claws to get a grip.

“I will NOT be sent to the Laundry!”

“Ma’am be reasonable, Mayberry’s Laundry for tainted Woman is the right place-“

Taking another pull, she did not let go of the wooden frame, annoying the man that was pulling.

“-for sinners like you!”

The girls fur bristled when she heard the name of the institution spoken out, father had told her about the place, woman and girls who misbehaved ended up there, only leaving after many years of “readjustment”, some even never returned from this place according to father. He always told her to behave and to do as other expected her to be, for her own safety he would say, so that she would never end up in this place.

And now she was witnessing how this woman, she never saw in the past, would be brought there, who at this point was screaming distraught as the two men continued to pull on her and her clothing, not caring that the fabric stretched or slightly began to tear because of their violence.

“You can’t do this to me, I am an exemplary ci-“

“No, you were Madame, you were, now will you just-“

The quick and sudden opening of the white vehicles door made all of them look into the direction of the car.

First one black shoe tapped carefully on the black pavement, before the second followed suit, with a slight hop the owner of the two stood on the pavement, giving silently, a quick glance to his surroundings.

When the girl was already disturbed when she saw the two man with their white coats, the appearance of this one, made her body heat vanish.

She knew who this man was.

With his orange fur, brighter than any chimney fire she had ever seen, the black suit with its red tie that never showed a sign of wear but most prominently his eyes, that were just like hers, but darker.

“The Launderer”

The one not only father talked about, but who all girls in the school she attended knew, who they were thought rimes so that they would always remember. That they wouldn’t forget to never ever get on his bad side. The one who would always know, no matter what, if they did something bad and if they overstepped this line, he would come and get them to the Laundry.

And here he stood, only a few steps away from her, walking towards the door, with an unemotional expression on his face as he approached towards the three in the doorframe.

“S-Sir, there really is no need for your involvement.”

The other one was rolling his eyes, probably thinking what a suck-up his colleague was.

“There really is, she won’t move an inch, no matter what. Should we sedate her?”

The young girl just watched, she couldn’t do anything else, it felt like as if her feet were frozen or rooted into the ground, all she could do was watch, as the Launderer shook his head to say no, instead he was pulling something out of the pocket of his jacket.

Pinchers, that given the dots and specs of rust, appeared to have been already in use for some time. Some of them looked more red and darker than the others.

He pressed the tool together, one, two times before handing it to the men who asked if they should sedate the woman, he looked down on the pinchers for a while, before giving a nod.

“Oh, of course Sir.”

“No! No please! No I-“

But the woman was ignored by all of them that were around her, as the man held her tight, and the other of the two began to take one of her fingers into the pincher, starting to pull, ignoring how the metal cut into her flesh as she screamed in pain.

“It never would have come to this if you would have just-“

With one pull the finger was removed from the wood.

“-submitted to your duties!”

Tears ran down her face and so was slowly blood from her hand, but he didn’t bother and continued, neither his colleague who looked away, or the Launderer, who observed what was happening.

Despite the pain and them continuing to loosen finger by finger from the wood they had clawed themselves into the woman refused to move, only, when three fingers where left that were not injured by the pincher, where they able to remove her.

One of them was mumbling something about finally being done, as they dragged her to the car.

“I will be good, I will be good!”

Screaming and kicking in all directions she tried her best in an attempt to free herself from her captors grip, but it was all to no avail.

“Please I, I will never sin again, I promise, please, I don’t want to lose my children!”

They didn’t respond, instead one of them opened with their free door the backdoor of the plain white van.

Tears were rolling down her face, looking into the faces of the two that held her, for a sign of compassion or understanding, but there was none to be found.

“I beg you, don’t-“

With one swing they threw her into the van, screaming could be heard, that soon died down as they closed the door and locked it with the key, that the girl assumed belonged to the vehicle.

Finished and satisfied with their work the two men, without even noticing the young girl they stepped into the white vehicle, waiting for their superior.

The Launderer meanwhile, stared for a while into the emptiness of the doorframe, before slowly his head moved, like the seconds hand of a clock, until the eyes of the girl, met his.

Has he always known that she was there?

Despite her whole body and mind telling her to run away, not to look back and to tell no one about what she saw, she couldn’t as the Launderer approached her.

Even when his hand placed itself on her head, scruffling trough her hair.

“If it isn’t little Miss Rivers-”

His voice was, unassuming, for someone with such an intimidating appearance, it was quiet, too quiet in the young girl’s opinion who stared at the orange cat, who bend his knee to look at her on eye level.

“Now, you shouldn’t have seen such a thing my dear, but I guess some things are just meant to be, but you are a good girl, not like, the one you just saw us take away, aren’t you Miss Rivers?”

She nodded, probably faster than she should have, she was a good girl, always doing what she was ordered to do, not questioning anything as she was thought.

“I know you are, you are such a good girl, always listening to father and mother, knowing what is right-

A slight grin appeared on his face, one, that looked, out of place as the thoughts told her, the ones that were not scared of the situation and were trembling in fear.

“-obeying the cities rules and status.”

He stood up now, she didn’t want to be around this man anymore, all she wanted to do was to run, to leave, to be home and hide in her bed until she could forget the encounter, but she couldn’t, her legs didn’t allow it. His eyes opened, the red iris looking down at her.

The eyes looked like blood as if they have consumed the souls of at least a hundred souls who begged for freedom they never would see.

„Now remember before you go.“

Placing one hand on her shoulder he pressed against it slightly.

“Do good and be aware-“

The stare the Launderer gave her felt like what she believed being struck by a thunderbolt must feel like. As if her whole body was cramping in pain, yet there was none.

“- for my eyes are everywhere-

His very same eyes were staring at her, deep down, as if directly into her own soul, looking if she really was without any sin, giving again an unnatural grin as the Launderer spoke one last word to her.

“-Margaret.”

<…>

She woke up, without a yell or scream, just her red eyes snapping open and her upper body suddenly raising.

Margaret could feel how her heart was racing and she breathed in and out sharply, looking around she saw how her second husband was blinking with his eyes, his sleep must have been disturbed by her abrupt awakening deep in the night.

“Mar- Margaret is everything alright?”

She looked at the lynx who gave her a worried glance, a part of her wanted to tell him about what she had dreamed, what she had remembered, but she didn’t want to bother her husband with such, ghosts of the past, at least, not now…

“No dear, everything is fine, really.”

Despite her reassuring smile, her husband, Victor looked at her puzzled and again, concerned for a while, before he placed his head back on the pillow, in a matter of seconds he was fast asleep again.

Margaret however was not, her red eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling as words were echoing through her mind.

Always watching.

Always there.

The Launderer.

Is everywhere.

#TW:Blood #TW:Torture #TW: Abduction #Albert Clear RKZ #Victor Owens RKZ #Bowlers old fanfictions #Bowlers old stories

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