Captivity - Tumblr Posts

The hair took forever and I should have been sleeping instead of doing this, but anyway! The second merfolk suggestion is done!

russian 🇷🇺 fascists kidnapped this Ukrainian from the Chernobyl nuclear power plant and kept him captive since March 2022.

Russia is evil

#fascists Russian fascists

A Month of Whump Day 2: Captivity

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Summary: Ezra is captured by the empire and tortured. Kallus stands in the room wondering what his next move is.

  The imperial inquisitor stood in front of Ezra and agent Kallus stood in the back corner of the room. "I need the location of the rebels you were with" the inquisitor hissed

    Injuries covered the boy's body. Since the interrogator couldn't get any information from him they decided on a different approach. "I'll never" he breathed, "tell you."

    Angrily the inquisitor slammed the hilt of their lightsaber on Ezra's head. With a pained yell he fell to the floor. When Ezra looked up the inquisitor stood menaceing before him. His eyes drifted to the corner to see Kallus slightly closer to him with a consurned look plastered on his face. Before the dark side user could see he stiffened up again and erased the emotion from his physical appearance.

    The room was spinning. Blood escaped from Ezra's head, dripping on the floor. Moving the boy brought his knees to his chest and held the injury. All the pain in the rest of his body became insignificant. He couldn't think straight.

    Kneeling down the inquisitor grabbed Ezra's face and forced him to look at them. "Tell me where they are street rat." Hate laced their words.

    "No." The Jedi spoke strongly. He leaned back into the wall, never letting go of his knees. Hot blood slowly trickled down his face.

    Alexander watched the inquisitor continue to interrogate the boy. His screams angered and consurned Kallus. When everything was finally over Ezra was slammed into the furthest wall and sliped unconscious.

    "Take care of this rat." With that they left. Kallus stood there. What did he do now? Only one thing came to mind, take him home. Would this risk everything he worked for in the empire? Yes. But Alexander didn't care about the empire, he cared about the people who the empire was supposed to help, to protect. That and he cared about the Ghost crew. More and for longer then he would like to admit.

    Carefully he pick up Ezra. How did he get through the building without being noticed? Though it was a grim plan the soldier decided if asked he carried the boy to the morgue out of spite. After all the trouble the rebel had caused made him want to see this through. But what about the injuries? Something had to be done. Walking out the door Kallus decided his room was first.

    Arriving at the room and opening the door Kallus entered for the last time. Quickly he wrapped Ezra's bigger wounds. The bandage job was terrible but the traitor didn't have the time to make them pretty. The glowing yellow rock sat beside his bed. Grabbing it he stuffed it into the small shoulder bag he owned. After that he grabbed the Jedi once more and set off.

    No one asked at first. It was only when the inquisitor had discovered Ezra was missing that there was any suspicion. In the last stretch of the last hallway stormtroopers did their best to stop Alexander. They failed and he was able to board a small ship and take off.

    When he finally found the Ghost he carefully but swiftly made his way to bring the boy home. Hera sat outside with Kanan beside her. As the two spotted him they stood and ran to meet him. "Agent Kallus?" Hera asked.

    "We can talk about it later." The three made their way back to the Ghost where Ezra would be taken care of.

    Ezra shifted. He was in his bed? Wait that wasn't right, he had been locked in an imperial cell. It had been a week since the padawan was in his own bed. He sat up slowly and looked around. Kanan sat nervously next to the bed. "Kanan? What happened?"

    Kanan looked up from the floor quickly. Not that he could see."Ezra how are you feeling?" He asked.

    "My head hurts" he answered bluntly. "How did I get here?"

    "Kallus brought you."

    "Agent Kallus?"

    "Agent Kallus."

    "Oh. Okay."

    A while later Kallus and Zeb came to check on the teen. The ex-imperial explained everything that had happened during the escape.

    "Hey Kallus?" Ezra got his attention.

    "Yes?"

    "Thank you."

    Alexander smiled "I'm just glad you're home kid."

Whumptober Day 11: Captivity/"No One Will Find You."

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Summary: Luka is captured by Monarch after he learned that he knows who Ladybug and Cat Noir are.

  Luka had just been walking home when he saw him. Monarch stood in front of him, smiling. Fear struck into his heart as he took a few steps back. He turned around and started to run. The boy listened to the footsteps of his enemy growing closer.

    Then Luka turned the corner into an alley. He jumped onto the fire escape. The later fell as he started to climb. Monarch slid into the alley and walked over to him, grabbing his ankle.

    "Let me go!" He screamed. Luka kicked at him. His hands started to slip. "No, no" he said under his breath. He was pulled off of the fire escape and then the world went black.

    When Luka woke up, the first thing he noticed was how dark it was. Then he saw the garden that had what appeared to be a coffin. Startled he jumped back. His back hit metal and for the first time he noticed the chains around his wrists.

    Monarch stepped out of the shadows. He grinned.

    "Why am I here!?" Luka yelled.

    "I know you know Ladybug and Cat Noir's identities. I need them."

    "I won't give them to you." Luka claimed himself. "They will come for me."

    The villain chuckled. "No. Even if they do," he walked over to the boy. Monarch kneeled down and grabbed Luka's face. He forced him to look at him. "No one will ever find you." With full force, he pushed Luka's face off to the side, making him fall.

    Luka pulled himself back into his legs. "I believe in Ladybug and Cat Noir! They will find me and they will stop you! You won't win this!"

    "You'll crack and when you do, I win."

    Panic set into Luka's heart. He tried to escape his chains, hurting his wrist. He looked back at Monarch. He was a looming and intimidated figure. "we'll have to see."

    The villain chuckled and walked towards the kwami's.

    "Sass!" Luka yelled.

    "Luka? What happened?" He asked.

    "Kidnapped."

    "Are you okay?" Trixx asked.

    "I will be."

    Luka watched as Monarch akumatised a poor unsuspecting victim. He yelled at him, not really trying to get him to stop but more so to see if he could be heard.

    As time passed, Luka started to wonder. He knew they would look for him and he knew that it would take time. But now Monarch was hitting him. He was tired of Luka not talking, of resisting his attempts to akumatize him. The boy still wouldn't give.

    Trying to stay positive when you feel like you're dying in some man's basement because you know your best friends are superheroes, proved itself to be difficult. Somewhere in Luka's mind, he knew he was angry with them. Maybe if they had avoided the blast from 'live your childhood dream' guy, he wouldn't be here.

    But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was staying silent and alive. Monarch made that hard. He tried to sleep often. He has to watch as Julika was akumatised, worried about him. Not just her but his parents as well.

    Time passed slowly. He wasn't sure how long he had been in the basement. Luka thought it would be cold. It was cool, the temperature having to sustain the plants. At least it smelled pleasant.

    When the villain would hurt him that's what he focused on. The good. The people he was protecting. When Monarch came to the conclusion that Luka would't break, he started to leave him alone.

    Then Ladybug and Cat Noir learned how to manage their powers better. They didn't have to worry about transforming back anymore. Monarch came over to Luka, angry.

    Luka had been scared. He was scared of his capture and of the power he held. But not like this. The rage that the man held in his eyes alone made his skin crawl. "Things didn't go your way?" he said.

    But he didn't get an answer. Instead he was kicked in the side. The force threw him back, the chains around his wrists pulled tight. It didn't take long before all Luka could feel was pain.

    But in a way it was relieving. He felt so alone. He'd never felt that way before. After Monarch's temper tantrum Luka stayed laying on the floor. He tried to think of something good, he tried so hard to hold onto hope. But he couldn't.

    A purple butterfly landed gently on his ring. "Hello Victim, I'll give you the power to escape your Capture. I return, you will give me Ladybug and Cat Noir's identities."

"No" Luka whispered softly. Every part of him tried to fight the akuma. He tried to get up but fell back to the floor. His body was too weak and mind hurt too much to stop him from winning.

Purple fog covered him for just a moment before he stood up. "Let me leave."

"Third identities."

"Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng and A- Adrien, Agreste."

Monarch was silent before he snapped and Luka was released from his power. He just smiled as he walked away from the weeping child on the ground. Now to go find his son.

Part 2: Aftermath of Failure

Art by @elgrajaz of my innocent oc son, Trouble. Trying out a cute onesie for Halloween. Look at that cherubic face. How could anyone not see an angel when he smiles? Very mean and unfair things happen in Ch 13 of Overcome.

“I don’t think you should be around Paul anymore.”

Trouble looked up at F, holding his gaze while he scraped the muzzle against his shoulder and whined.

“I didn’t want him to try and get away, but he’s terrified of me and I don’t like that.” F opened a door in the back corner of the room and rummaged around. “You understand that, right?”

Trouble whined again and twisted his wrists against the ropes.

“Did you see how he looked at me?” A rattling of chains accompanied F as he retraced his steps to Trouble. “He screamed, like I was a monster out of a nightmare.”

Trouble’s eyes went wide as he spotted the chain. He started to yank against the ropes on his arms in earnest, kicking against the ones on his ankles. He whimpered and shook his head, but F wasn’t looking.

“You wanna know what it made me think of?” F attached one end of the chain to a d-ring fixed to the floor a few feet from the couch. “When I first found this place, sometimes I would find animals caught in traps. If I found them because I heard them, they’d thrash and run, tryin’ to get away from me as much as tryin’ to get out of the trap.”

“Mmm?” Trouble’s heart raced as he watched F approach and kneel, the free end of the chain in one hand and a padlock in the other. “Mmmmmph!” He yelled into the muzzle, brushed it frantically against the chairback and his shoulder, desperate to get F’s attention.

“Yeah. I’ll take that off you, let me finish talkin’.” F frowned, his mind clearly far away as he wrapped the chain around Trouble’s ankle below where it was roped to the chair. “I helped those animals, you know? As much as I could. Some of them ran off before I could, and I hope they’re okay. Some were so small and so broken...”

Art by Alectric of my oc Trouble, who has been the goodest boy and followed all of his captors rules. If you need proof, ch 15 of Overcome is ready.

Alec is wildly talented. See more of his art/animations: TikTok YouTube Twitter

“I know y-you’re there.” Paul’s voice wavered as he clutched his hands together at this throat.

“Please don’t scream. I’m not here to hurt you.” Trouble moved onto his knees and unbelted the blindfold, lifting it off Paul’s eyes.

“You,” the human gasped softly, unable to shrink back.

“Call me Trouble.” He grinned and winked. “Do you want out of here, Paul?”

“...n-no.” Paul’s eyes were huge with fear. “W-why would I want that? I’m b-being taken care of.”

Trouble rolled his eyes. “Eff’s not here. He went out to get you food.” He set the blindfold aside. “I thought you needed to use the bathroom?”

“I can hold it.” Paul looked away, blushing. “Y-you shouldn’t be here.”

“Because I’m a liar and I could tear you to pieces?” he scoffed. “If I wanted that, you’d already be dead.” Trouble stood, grimaced, and held out a hand to Paul. “Are you coming, or not?”

CONTAINS: captivity whump, forced murder, graphic depiction of death

Two whumpees lay together, one sitting up against the wall while the other lays their head in the first's lap.

They both move to sit on their knees as the basement light flickers on, their chains rattling obnoxiously. The lights' hum buzzes through the air eerily, accompanied by the thump of footsteps down the stairwell.

Whumper steps in with a grin, a large knife in their grip.

"Darlings, good morning!" Whumper beams at the two. "Rise and shine! How are my pers this morning?"

Whumpee A just scowls at them, while Whumpee B presses their back against the cold cement wall, shaking.

There's a long pause, and Whumper continues without response.

"I've had you two for what- 6 months now? You know- feeding you both, keeping you hydrated, paying for medicine and gauze and such- it's a lot. So!" They smile, pausing to scan the faces of their pets, "we're cutting down on expenses."

Whumpee B is still shaking, and Whumpee A feels their clammy hand grasp at their own. They let B hold it, rubbing their thumb delicately across its dry back.

"I'll make it simple. One of you will die tonight." Whumper states this breezily; it's a fact, not a suggestion.

The knife hits the floor and is kicked at the pair. B yelps and wraps their arms around A's waist, shivering with their head on A's thighs.

A glares up at Whumper, resting a hand on B's back. "What are you talking about?"

"Whoever lives gets to be my one and only pet. The one who dies- well- dies." Whumper shrugs.

B turns their head to Whumper, looking up through wet lashes. "Why? I thought- but-"

Whumper sighs, smiling as they come closer, just out of range of the chains. "Im assuming you won't be killing A, then? Unfortunate- ill miss that darling look of fear on your face." Whumper's grin widens as they continue, their voice becoming mocking.

"Unless A is too weak to kill you? They've got a soft spot for you, don't they? They've always been a coward." Whumper teases. A rubs B's back firmly.

"They aren't a coward!" B cries, "they-"

B cuts off with a shriek as the knife sinks into their neck.

"You're right," A glares at Whumper. "I'm not."

B is in shock, looking up at A as blood fills their mouth.

A winces at their expression. They run their hand through B's hair, holding them against their own body. "Shhh, shh... hey, it's okay. Close your eyes." They speak softly and steadily as the other claws at them with all the desperation in the world. "I've got you. Sleep."

Whumper is grinning ear to ear as they watch. "I almost wish I would've recorded this! How intriguing~"

"Shut up." A hisses, then returns to their gentle tone as they console B. "I know it hurts, I know..."

B is fighting to stay awake, to stay alive as the blood pours down their neck. They let out a gurgling groan, gripping onto A as tight as they can. Their eyes are so full of fear that A can't look for too long.

They pull B's weakening body flush against their own, shushing them sweetly.

They lean down and whisper into their ear, "it's over now. You're free."

Heartbeats later, the blood stops gushing. It slows to a trickle as B finally slumps against them.

"Well," Whumper chimed, "wasn't exactly expecting that. Didn't know you had it in ya."

"You know damn well that they wouldn't have lasted a second as your only pet. I saved them from a lifetime of torture." A spits, pulling B's corpse closer to themself.

Whumper laughs, shaking their head. "What, you think you're the one who sacrificed yourself? B just died so that you could have another couple of months in here. Face it, A. You're a selfish prick."

A pulls the blade from B's neck and tosses it dangerously close to Whumper's foot. "Get the fuck out of here," they bite, glaring at the other as they sit with B's body.

Whumper grabs the knife, taking a horrible second to lick off a bit of the blood, and heads upstairs.

A lets themself cry as they cradle the corpse of B, tracing their fingers along cold skin.

"I'm so sorry, " they whisper. "I had to save you."

Whumper lines #3

“I will never ever let you go.”

“You surely didn’t think that I’d let you escape, did you?”

“Found you.”

“Yes. Keep gasping for air.”

“Stop acting so tough.”

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Aren’t you happy?”

“You sure got some nerve.”

“Stop struggling.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I said something about that, didn’t I?”

“How troublesome.”

“Don’t you remember?”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t. Try. Me.”

“With that beautiful face of yours, you deserve nothing but pain, don’t you?”

“You fainted already? How boring.”

“I will punish you for that.”

“This will have great consequences.”

“You were wrong.”

“Just wait and find out then.”

“You shouldn’t think that you can escape from me.”

“Beg for me to stop.”

“Turn around and look at me. Now.”

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

“You won’t say anything like that anymore after I’m done with you.”

“That’s a good boy.”

“You asked for it.”

“Time to say goodbye to the world you once knew.”

Whump prompt by @your-local-vamp

"I feel broken," they said to the darkness, a secret whispered between them and their fellow captive in this place.

Only the quiet inhale and exhale of the other's breathing answered them.

They stared into the darkness above them, wondering if they'd get any response. What did they want them to say? Words of comfort? Of affirmation they felt the same? Some confirmation at least they were not alone in this nightmare.

But the silence stretched. Until they became convinced their companion was asleep. Their admission had gone unheard. Perhaps it was the best, to keep such things inside. That once fears were said out loud, they would become reality.

Or perhaps, they had never said anything in the first place. Maybe they only imagined the admission had whispered past their lips. More of their sanity, slipping through the cracks.

A shuffle broke the silence, their companion turning over to face them. They heard them sigh, as exhausted as they were.

"You're not broken," their companion whispered in reply, their voice low and hoarse.

They smiled softly at the words. Perhaps that's what they had wanted to hear, needed to hear, to make it through another night. Until their companion finished with-

"Not yet."

Guess what, ya’ll! I’m still alive! And I’m back with some very good content hehe~ Anyway, I wrote this piece a while back, but I only now decided to post it :’). I hope that ya’ll enjoy it, though!

~ A Special Occasion ~

Whumpee would rather have to endure a violent beating to the kneecaps than to be here. Be watched at like this. Humiliated. Whumper thought it to be a wonderful idea to dress him up in a neat tuxedo. They actually tried! A bit too hard in Whumpee’s opinion. Now every single soul in the building has their eyes on him. Because a Whumper-only party is the place to be, right? The hungry stares from the others scare the little one to no end. He doesn’t dare look anyone in the eyes, too afraid that they will swallow him up whole just like that. But Whumper’s warm, strong body towers over him by his side. They’re not touching him, not with a single finger. But they make it clear enough that this boy is theirs.

He already knew they were up to no good, when he heard the news that he will join his captor to a ‘special occasion’. But before he could utter the words “please, I don’t want to go”, Whumper was already helping him put on his clothes. There was never a choice to begin with. And now they are making their way through a swarm of people, the eyes of the others filled with the need to torture the boy for hours on end. He has seen that look before. One too many times.

Much to Whumpee’s disliking, he occasionally gets prodded by teasing elbows, making him wince softly. The audience is unable to see under the expensive looking tuxedo he’s wearing, but his body is covered with bruises and cuts. Whumper was in a particularly happy mood last night, which in turn caused them to visit their favorite boy until the sun was coloring the streets with its bright rays again. His body feels sore and awfully tired now, but sleeping is not an option. Not when the predators are about ready to attack their prey.

Whumper’s unorthodox, sweet voice fills the quiet room, as they are greeting their fellow evil minds. The others don’t say anything back, obviously too preoccupied with this beautiful little thing being near them. An elbow finds its way to Whumpee’s bruised rib, making him stop dead in his tracks. His body doubles over, as pain suddenly shoots through him. Whumper stands behind him, a subtle grin on their face. “What’s wrong, hmm?” they hum. Whumpee’s eyes widen in an instant, afraid that he just made a mistake. He tries to recollect himself as much as he can and answers.

“N-Nothing!”

“Keep walking, then.”

And that he does. They continue to move on, now thankfully almost being at their destination. Well, more like Whumper’s destination. Whumpee is never allowed to drink alcohol. His brain will get all fuzzy and stupid, and it’ll filter out the pain. But they want him to feel all of it. Every single sharp knife tearing his tender skin open, every nail violently getting pulled out of his fingers. It would be a waste to hear playful chuckles instead of raspy cries for help. That’s why he may never drink alcoholic beverages. They finally reach one of the waiters on the other side of the room, holding up a tray with glasses of champagne on it. Whumper lifts their hand up, grabs a glass, an entertained smile on their face.

Whumpee stands next to them, present to serve just as decoration. There’s not much he can do anyway. But the adorable, panicked expressions and involuntary flinches whenever someone makes a sudden move cause such happiness in Whumper’s body. They could have never asked for a better boy than this one. Whumpee watches as his captor downs the champagne in mere seconds and grabs another one right after. His hand is grabbed by them suddenly, leading him to a fancy looking seat in the corner of the room. They gesture for him to sit down on it. Whumpee obeys, as he should, and looks up at them with worried eyes. Are they going to just leave him here to suffer in silence? “Stay here, Darling. I’ll unfortunately have to leave your side for now to get the necessary pleasantries out of the way. But I promise that I’ll tend to you afterwards. Oh, don’t you worry about that.” The smile on their face never left. If anything, it got even wider after their statement. Whumpee’s blood runs cold, as Whumper turns their back on him to join the others. He’s alone now. Alone in a room filled with people.

One might think that this is a good thing. But he knows that even though their eyes are not on him, they can see everything he does. How his chest heaves up and down heavily as fear starts to set in, how he’s anxiously fidgeting with his fingers. There is no chance for him to escape while they are not paying attention. However, this is not even what bothers Whumpee the most. No, it’s the terrifying realization that his captor just gave the other Whumpers the approval to do with him whatever they want. They did so the very second they turned around and left. It’s almost as if they threw a sheep in the lion’s den.

To Whumpee’s surprise, though, no one seems to approach him. The others occasionally glance at the poor thing sitting all by himself, but none of them actually come closer. It confuses him, but who is he to go and complain about it? A swift smile appears on his face, feeling happy that he can finally take a break and just feel safe for once. This feeling is soon replaced by worry once more, as his bladder starts to act up. He looks around for Whumper, but he’s lost them out of sight. The very last thing he wants is to wet his pants right now. He has done so many times before. And all of those times ended horribly. Whumper loathes it when he makes a mess.

But what can he do? He can’t just go to the bathroom without permission. Whumper will make him regret doing that for sure. His mind weighs off all his options and possible horrifying outcomes, but eventually gets up to look for the restroom, completely disobeying his captor. Whumpee finds himself in multiple different hallways before finding the correct one, causing a relieved feeling to wash over him at last. He may very well could have gotten lost in this massive building, but luckily his eyes are now meeting the doorway to the restroom. He walks inside, empties his bladder, and quickly walks out again to return to the seat before Whumper notices he’s gone. If they didn’t already. Now almost nearing the end of the hallway, silently praying that he won’t take a wrong turn again, a tall figure approaches him. His heart skipped a beat, begging words almost rolling off his tongue already, as he thought it was Whumper.

After a careful look, however, he realizes that it’s not his captor. A deep sigh escapes him, but gets drawn right back in, as the figure is now mere inches away from him. They chuckle, their breath reeking of alcohol. “I didn’t see you when I came in just moments ago,” they come even closer towards Whumpee, causing him to take a step back. “You don’t seem to be one of us. Are you perhaps lost, little one?”

Whumpee takes yet another step back, pure terror now taking over his body. What if they take him? Whumper will make sure he will never hear the end of it if they have to retrieve him from someone else. Or feel the end of it, rather. He’s not sure what’s scarier. The figure continues to come closer, now reaching out a hand to grab onto his chin. They move his face around to take a good look at him. “Not a single ounce of defiance left in you,” they smile, their head tilted in delight. “Would be a real shame if someone were to just take you, wouldn’t it?” Shivers run down Whumpee’s spine. “P-Please, I-”

“Whumpee,” a new voice fills the hallway. Not questioning, not searching. But just low enough to let Whumpee know he is in trouble. He looks behind the one now hovering over him, only to see Whumper standing there. The figure sighs, and turns around to look at the person who, to their annoyance, joined them. “Who the fuck dares to interrupt-” they quickly swallow their foolish words, seeing the all too familiar face. Whumpee takes this as the perfect opportunity to run back to his captor, hiding behind them. He finally feels safe. The stranger looks at them with wide, fearful eyes. “I-I-I-I didn’t k-know he was y-yours!” they stutter, any sign of intoxication suddenly gone. “Oh, I’m sure that you didn’t spot us when we walked in,” Whumper’s voice sounds awfully sarcastic. That has never shown to be a good thing. “I j-just got here! I s-swear!” panic visibly starts to set in for the stranger. Whumper chuckles and turns around, their eyes falling upon what’s most precious to them. “Darling, be a good boy and return to your seat,” to this, Whumpee nods, and immediately does as he is told. He definitely doesn’t want to aggravate them more at this point.

After a short while, Whumpee thankfully manages to find his way back to the main hall. Not long after he takes a seat, a bloodcurdling scream fills the building, where just moments before many chatting voices could be heard. Whumpee jumps up, facing the maze-like hallways where he just came from. It is definitely not Whumper’s voice that’s screaming in agony like that. It must be the drunken stranger that approached him before. Whumpee wonders what Whumper must be doing to them. The screams then cease, whereafter Whumper returns to collect their little one. Droplets of red have appeared on both of their hands, as well as their tuxedo. They grab him by the arm and lift him up from the seat. “We are leaving,” Whumper says sternly. Both of them then walk off towards the exit. “W-What happened back there…?” Whumpee looks up at them with doe eyes, seemingly seeking for answers. “I had to teach them some manners, is all. One simply does not touch what is mine.” Whumper’s grip around Whumpee’s arm tightens considerably after that. The stranger definitely angered them. Whumpee isn’t even sure if they are still alive as of now. He can’t help but feel proud of his captor for protecting him like that. It leaves a warm feeling all over his body. “Thank you. F-for protecting me.” A chuckle then escapes Whumper’s mouth. “Did you truly think for even a second that I was doing you a favor?”

The atmosphere suddenly changes. Whumpee frowns, now feeling confused more than anything. They did that to protect him, right? Why else would they do such horrible things to someone they don’t even know? “I wasn’t trying to keep you safe, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Whumper says, seemingly reading the little one’s mind. “I abhor it when other individuals touch my property. It is unjust.” So, they did it just as a vengeful act? Whumpee’s head spins, as the gears in his head work overtime. “Besides, you are in big trouble, Darling. You were foolish enough to leave your spot, even though I had told you to stay put. You are not very obedient after all, it seems,” a wide grin appears on Whumper’s face. Regret overwhelms Whumpee. “I’m sorry, really! I-I won’t do it again! Just, please forgive me!” he pleads, but alas, it is in vain. “Pets should be punished when they misbehave, no?” Whumpee cries and thrashes in Whumper’s grip, but there is nothing he can do to save himself now. His skin crawls, as he realizes what horrors await him when they get back to the place he was forced to call ‘home’.

my favorite thing about captivity/torture whump is just like…that initial anticipation. someone wakes up tied up in a shady basement or fancy hotel room or wherever with their enemy looming over them and they know, they know they’re going to get hurt, they don’t know how and they don’t know what exactly will happen to them, but they know they’re in a position of vulnerability and that this enemy is going to take full advantage of that and there’s nothing they can do about it. meanwhile the captor also knows this and they’re just reveling in the anticipation and the fear and basking in the full knowledge that they can do whatever they want to their captive, their mind is full of possibilities, but right now they just want to savor the fear. MMM i LOVE it i could just play that exact moment in my mind again and again  

Defiant Whumpee is being tortured and Teammate is forced to watch. Teammate is more distressed then Whumpee but refusing to crack while Whumpee spits insults at Whumper. Eventually, Whumper decides that they aren't going to break and puts them both in a cell while they try to think of another method to get to them.

Whumpee uses the last of their energy to crawl over to Teammate, lay their head in Teammate's lap, and cry themselves to sleep, knowing that they have to do it all over again when they wake up.

Praise Whump

I'm a sucker for when the whumpee is so desperate for affection they'll put up with anything from the whumper, so I figured for my first post I'd write one of those. I'd appreciate any feedback you can give me :)

...

Whumpee crouched in the corner of the cold, damp cell. The chains around their wrists chafed the raw skin, yet they clutched them tight, like they were the only thing stopping them from fading into the shadows around them.

The door opened with a creak and a shaft of light filtered into the darkness.

Whumpee whimpered, both in relief and in fear, as Whumper strode into the room.

Despite their aching limbs, Whumpee hoisted themselves onto their knees, straightening their back as well as they could with their wounds.

Whumper smiled with approval. "Good," he said, crouching down before Whumpee, who had their eyes glued to the floor in front of them. They warmed at the praise.

"We're going to play a little, Whumpee," he said, lifting Whumpee's chin to face him. "Would you like that?"

Whumpee almost shuddered at the thought. They knew what play meant. It meant that knife. It meant pain. But if they did well, it also meant Whumper's praise. And they really wanted Whumper's praise.

Whumpee nodded, and Whumper smiled. He leaned down and began to unlock the cuffs, careful not to touch Whumpee's skin. He never touched them, not unless he was hurting them.

He was training them, Whumpee knew. And it was working. They were beginning to crave the pain, if only for the comfort of Whumper.

Whumpee stood on shaky legs, following a few steps after Whumper with their head down. When they emerged into the antechamber outside the cell, Whumpee's heart did a little leap. This was where they played. Where they got to touch Whumper, and hear him whisper praise. There were two other doors leading off of the chamber. One heading upstairs. One to the room where Whumpee was punished.

They shuddered at the thought of that room, doing their best not to look at the iron door.

Whumper sat on the chair in the middle of the chamber, watching as Whumpee sank to their knees before him. "You know what to do," he said, and Whumpee nodded. "Yes, Whumper," they said, rising again to gather the supplies from around the room.

They were quick in their work, grabbing the bucket of water and the cloth and placing them beside Whumper. They took the knife last. Long and sharp and sparkling, it had cut every one of the scars into Whumpee's skin. They lifted it with shaking hands and stood before Whumper, offering it to him.

"Good," Whumper told them, taking the knife, "come here."

Whumpee bit their lip to keep from sighing as they sat down on Whumper's lap, their hands quickly knotting themselves into his t-shirt. He was so warm, and Whumpee was so cold.

Whumper didn't give any warning as he began to slide the knife down their shoulder, shallow but still drawing blood. Whumpee whimpered, clutching him tighter. Whumper shushed them, one hand stroking their arm as the other drew the knife down across their spine. He was always careful not to permanently damage Whumpee. He needed them in good condition so he could keep playing with them.

Whumpee sobbed silently as Whumper carved up their back, praising and shushing them with every cut.

"You're doing so good, Whumpee."

"Shhh, you can do it," he would say, as Whumpee clutched onto his soft t-shirt and sobbed into his shoulder.

By the time he was done, Whumpee's back was little more than a mess of blood, but Whumpee almost didn't want it to be over. They wanted to stay in Whumper's lap, and feel his warm chest and soft clothes and hear his gentle praise.

Whumper carefully unknotted Whumpee's hands from his shirt and pushed him gently off. Whumpee whimpered at the loss of contact, but slid off of Whumper's lap and fell into a kneel before him. Whumper smiled. They were being so good.

Whumper stood and walked to the small sink against the wall, placing the knife there, before returning to where Whumpee knelt. He'd have Whumpee clean it later, as always. But first, he had to deal with Whumpee's back.

He needed Whumpee ready and healed for their next session.

He knelt behind them, and, using the cloth and water, washed off the wounds on Whumpee's back. Careful not to touch their skin. Careful that only the rough scratch of the cloth and the bite of the cold water were felt by the silent Whumpee.

When the wounds were clean, Whumper dressed them cleanly, then stepped away from them, and turned towards the room where he punished Whumpee. He strolled inside, shut and locked the door behind him, as he left Whumpee to clean and deal with the bloody mess in the room.

It was a warning. If Whumpee didn't do a good enough job, they would be joining Whumper in that room.

Or if they displeased Whumper by spilling the bucket of bloody water on the floor, like they just had.

"You know you need to be punished for this Whumpee?" Whumper told them as they knelt on the ground, ready to beg. But they knew it was futile, and just nodded.

Praise Whump

I'm a sucker for when the whumpee is so desperate for affection they'll put up with anything from the whumper, so I figured for my first post I'd write one of those. I'd appreciate any feedback you can give me :)

...

Whumpee crouched in the corner of the cold, damp cell. The chains around their wrists chafed the raw skin, yet they clutched them tight, like they were the only thing stopping them from fading into the shadows around them.

The door opened with a creak and a shaft of light filtered into the darkness.

Whumpee whimpered, both in relief and in fear, as Whumper strode into the room.

Despite their aching limbs, Whumpee hoisted themselves onto their knees, straightening their back as well as they could with their wounds.

Whumper smiled with approval. "Good," he said, crouching down before Whumpee, who had their eyes glued to the floor in front of them. They warmed at the praise.

"We're going to play a little, Whumpee," he said, lifting Whumpee's chin to face him. "Would you like that?"

Whumpee almost shuddered at the thought. They knew what play meant. It meant that knife. It meant pain. But if they did well, it also meant Whumper's praise. And they really wanted Whumper's praise.

Whumpee nodded, and Whumper smiled. He leaned down and began to unlock the cuffs, careful not to touch Whumpee's skin. He never touched them, not unless he was hurting them.

He was training them, Whumpee knew. And it was working. They were beginning to crave the pain, if only for the comfort of Whumper.

Whumpee stood on shaky legs, following a few steps after Whumper with their head down. When they emerged into the antechamber outside the cell, Whumpee's heart did a little leap. This was where they played. Where they got to touch Whumper, and hear him whisper praise. There were two other doors leading off of the chamber. One heading upstairs. One to the room where Whumpee was punished.

They shuddered at the thought of that room, doing their best not to look at the iron door.

Whumper sat on the chair in the middle of the chamber, watching as Whumpee sank to their knees before him. "You know what to do," he said, and Whumpee nodded. "Yes, Whumper," they said, rising again to gather the supplies from around the room.

They were quick in their work, grabbing the bucket of water and the cloth and placing them beside Whumper. They took the knife last. Long and sharp and sparkling, it had cut every one of the scars into Whumpee's skin. They lifted it with shaking hands and stood before Whumper, offering it to him.

"Good," Whumper told them, taking the knife, "come here."

Whumpee bit their lip to keep from sighing as they sat down on Whumper's lap, their hands quickly knotting themselves into his t-shirt. He was so warm, and Whumpee was so cold.

Whumper didn't give any warning as he began to slide the knife down their shoulder, shallow but still drawing blood. Whumpee whimpered, clutching him tighter. Whumper shushed them, one hand stroking their arm as the other drew the knife down across their spine. He was always careful not to permanently damage Whumpee. He needed them in good condition so he could keep playing with them.

Whumpee sobbed silently as Whumper carved up their back, praising and shushing them with every cut.

"You're doing so good, Whumpee."

"Shhh, you can do it," he would say, as Whumpee clutched onto his soft t-shirt and sobbed into his shoulder.

By the time he was done, Whumpee's back was little more than a mess of blood, but Whumpee almost didn't want it to be over. They wanted to stay in Whumper's lap, and feel his warm chest and soft clothes and hear his gentle praise.

Whumper carefully unknotted Whumpee's hands from his shirt and pushed him gently off. Whumpee whimpered at the loss of contact, but slid off of Whumper's lap and fell into a kneel before him. Whumper smiled. They were being so good.

Whumper stood and walked to the small sink against the wall, placing the knife there, before returning to where Whumpee knelt. He'd have Whumpee clean it later, as always. But first, he had to deal with Whumpee's back.

He needed Whumpee ready and healed for their next session.

He knelt behind them, and, using the cloth and water, washed off the wounds on Whumpee's back. Careful not to touch their skin. Careful that only the rough scratch of the cloth and the bite of the cold water were felt by the silent Whumpee.

When the wounds were clean, Whumper dressed them cleanly, then stepped away from them, and turned towards the room where he punished Whumpee. He strolled inside, shut and locked the door behind him, as he left Whumpee to clean and deal with the bloody mess in the room.

It was a warning. If Whumpee didn't do a good enough job, they would be joining Whumper in that room.

Or if they displeased Whumper by spilling the bucket of bloody water on the floor, like they just had.

"You know you need to be punished for this Whumpee?" Whumper told them as they knelt on the ground, ready to beg. But they knew it was futile, and just nodded.

#4 - Drugged

When [Villain] opened the door of the cell, they saw nothing. The small room was pitch-dark, only letting the dull light of the corridor inside.

“[Hero]?”, they whispered lowly, not daring to speak any louder. “Where are you, we need to talk.”

It had been a real helltrip to sneak inside [Supervillains] mansion. [Villain] prayed to all gods they knew that nobody had seen them. If someone had, the aftermath would be fatal.

They did not want to think about it; just the mere idea made them shudder.

When there was no answer from [Hero], [Villain] stepped inside. It was safer anyways, because the sequence in which the guards controlled the cells was unknown to them. The risk of getting caught was much lower if they hid with their enemy.

After closing the door softly, [Villain] needed a moment until their eyes eased into the gloomimess of the cell. There were many dark splatters on the floor (probably blood, they thought) and a huddled figure, miserably crimped into the corner. [Hero]. [Villain] could not suppress the wave of pity that washed over them when they saw in what wretched condition their nemesis was. They knelt in front of them, putting a hand on [Heros] shoulder.

“Hey…” [Villain] whispered, “You need to get up, I will bring you out of here.” They gently nudged them. “Come on, we don’t have the time to dally.”

But [Hero] did not move. [Villain] frowned and inspected their body. There were no deeper injuries severe enough to cause this comatose state.

A distant noise halted their thoughts and made them look around nervously.

They shook [Hero] again, this time fiercer. “Get up. I don’t know when one of their minions comes past!”

[Hero] gave a faint murmur, twisting their head a little bit to the side.

They were adressable.

…Well, at least a little bit.

“Come on, we have to hurry. Can you walk?”

[Villain] grasped [Heros] arm to pull them up and frowned when they touched the bare skin. [Heros] body temperature was far too high. “What has happened to you?!”, they hissed, irritated by [Heros] dullness. “I don’t see any wounds that-”, [Villain] froze in the middle of the movement.

There were several punctures in the crook of [Heros] arm, fresh and old ones. When [Villain] twisted their arm to get a better look at the red dots, their foe gave a painful moan.

Oh…

Oh no.

They slapped [Hero] in the face. That could not be true.

[Villain] looked at the little wounds again, making sure they did not hallucinate. But the small entries to [Heros] veins were still there, some also inflamed and festering.

Hot anger was slowly rising in [Villains] chest, mixing with the cold fear that crept up their spine. [Supervillain], that bastard. They had drugged [Hero]. They had made them completely helpless, not able to do anything to defend themselfes. [Villain] felt nauseous.

There was a noise again -this time nearer- that cut harshly into their thoughts. The guards had to be checking every cell, also looking inside them.

Fuck.

The panic started rising in [Villains] body. “Come on, wake up! I need you here!”, they begged, shaking [Hero] violently by the shoulders. “Fuck, I can’t carry you all the way back!”

Oh god… What if [Hero] did not wake up at all?

“…’s that… you… [Villain]…?”

They jumped at the sound of [Heros] slurred voice.

“what…’re you… doin’ here…?”, they breathed. Every word [Hero] said was articulated with a huge difficulty. But they were awake and adressable and that was all [Villain] needed.

Never had they ever felt such a strong sense of relief like the one that washed over them right now.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me! I will get you out of here!”, they exclaimed euphorically, “You need to stand up.”

“Why would you… help me…?”, [Hero] asked, eyelids fluttering. They nearly slipped back to unconsciousness again, but [Villain] grabbed both of their cheeks, forcing them to keep eye contact. “Hey, you stay with me! I will explain you everything.”

They grasped [Heros] wrists and pulled them up, laying an arm around their shoulder.

“But first… I will bring you out of here.”

@lumpsbumpsandwhumps FEM!JONAS AU HOURS

Whumper gives Whumpee the choice. The offer of a lifetime. They can't quite believe their ears.

"Do you want to go home?"

It's too good to be true. But it is. If Whumpee answers yes, Whumper will oblige and respect the decision. They'll be returned home within the next 24 hours, they'll never have to see them again.

But they promise to take another. With whumpee gone, they'll be replaced.

So what can whumpee do? Accept? They get to put an end to their own suffering at the cost of starting another's? Dooming an innocent to a life of torment and anguish, and dooming themselves to a life of guilt. Is it worth it for freedom? To be away from Whumper?

Or stay...and suffer for a stranger. But to sleep at night knowing that they did the right thing. Stuck as a prisoner but at least it's them - it was always meant to be them.

animal trap / captivity / no one will find you (all the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed)

Pain.

Confusion.

The horror of being alone when once there were many.

Where were his siblings? The absence of their presence was felt in the cold air pressing in on his sides where once other squirming bodies squished him in from not just the sides but often above and below as well.

Where was his mother? Her soothing scent, the warmth of her fur, the reassuring noises of her body that had loomed so large in his existence for the entirety of it thus far.

The solitude was terrifying. Never had he been apart from his family. Even after his eyes had begun to open and he and his siblings started to tumble around one another in games of play, he'd never been out of sight of the rest of his family. Barking, licking, biting, wiggling, jumping, learning how to walk on wobbly legs... drinking milk from mother until they all passed out into the most blissful and comfortable slumber.

There had come a day when mother had decided they were old enough to venture out of the cardboard box that had been their home since his birth. She led them from the torn up newspaper bedding and it had been exciting yet scary. The sky was so far overhead it wasn't even a concept he grasped. The ground underfoot was laden with smells and so too was each and every building they passed! And then people! Giants roamed the streets and took no care of where they put their hard-bottom paws. He yipped when his paw was nearly stepped on but the human paid no mind. He hadn't realized how good they had it at the time. Being beneath notice was better than being observed, as he was beginning to realize.

There had been some sort of cage... his memories of this were vague. Distress was the most prominent part. An animal trap that he had not known was a trap at all. But how would he have known? How did he know that now? His head ached with all the thoughts racing through it. Connections being made, pathways being forged.

A whine escaped him. He hadn't even known to enjoy freedom before it was taken away and replaced with captivity.

The room he was in now stank of chemicals and other scientific human scents. He was one of the few things that smelled natural. There were a handful of other creatures. Things he could not have put a name to as a puppy but which he could now identify on sight and scent and sound. A giant tank filled with water held an octopus. A cage near the ceiling with a faux branch within it held a squirrel and he instinctively wanted to chase the frightened animal as it huddled near the top of its enclosure. Other cages, other creatures. A pig, a raven, a raccoon, several rats, a parrot that kept saying "fuck you" to the men and women in lab coats as they came into the room and performed tests. Even a cow, or a calf at any rate.

None of the other animals seemed any more certain of what was going on than he was. None of them seemed at all content with their current lot in life.

He whined unhappily again and one of the lab techs kicked at his cage in irritation. "Shaddup, mutt! No one wants to hear you! You pathetic little-"

"Don't be cruel, Elon. And you're wrong anyway - hearing him speak would be incredible! Just imagine if the process works... if we're able to figure out how to communicate with these creatures..." Another white-coat individual spoke then.

A snort from the first. "Oh yeah I'm sure they'll have amazing things to say. We'll be lucky if they don't go mad like the last batch. At least the group beforehand didn't go into a frenzy - I'm still not positive it was wise to just release those dumb bastards but I guess why keep beating a dead horse... just a whole herd of ignoramuses."

A third scientist chimed in. "Wouldn't their being able to talk get us in trouble? I can't imagine they're happy here. They don't look happy..."

The first laughed darkly. "You're right about that. But we don't have to worry here. Hear me, all you ugly beasties? No one will find you here! You're our playthings to study. You're all supposedly some of the most clever creatures in existence... well, we'll see about that."

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" Screamed the parrot.

The second scientist sighed. "We had the most hope for you, Sam. Your species can already speak words if taught."

The first rattled the cage of the parrot while baring his teeth in a parody of a grin. "Keep it up, you bird bastard. We don't need you alive - we can glean all sorts of information from dissecting your brain."

And so the days went. Only now he was able to easily determine the passage of time. He didn't need to rely on scents fading over time, he was somehow more attuned with the numbers on the clock in the room. And that wasn't the only thing he was able to comprehend. They put screens in front of him and played videos and then put devices in front of him and let him work out what they did - if anything. He was able to match shapes and could recall images he'd seen on the display and more. He watched the raven and the cow play chess. He watched the rats work their way through complicated mazes. He watched the pig demonstrate its memory of how a mirror functioned. He watched the raccoon use its clever hands to access the computer system when the humans weren't paying close enough attention.

He watched the parrot get its neck broken by the cruelest of the scientists, though the others didn't seem perturbed by its sad fate.

That night he felt fear coiling in his belly. The parrot had been the most outspoken of them all but his courage in the face of the antics of the humans had buoyed his spirits that entire time.

all the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed

Their lives were forfeit if they couldn't - or wouldn't - produce the results the human scientists demanded. They might be destined for death regardless. They could not possibly stay here. But how to escape? He had no idea where they were... how many rooms were outside of theirs? How many levels to this building? Perhaps the racoon knew... it had had a chance to study the schematics of where they were. And the door... could it hold up to a solid kick from the cow?

He felt a brief pang of sorrow for the octopus. Even if the rest of them were able to break free, there would be no hope for it.

Unless outside forces were involved. Individuals with the proper gear to transport an aquatic creature to its rightful home.

They didn't have much of a chance stuck in this room by themselves, trapped within their cages except when they were taken out for testing and injections. But perhaps the racoon could get word out somehow. If some animal rights agency learned of these atrocities...

He got to his paws in the darkness and barked. Some of the others might be sleeping but he knew the racoon kept the nocturnal hours of his species. It was time to see exactly what the other animal knew and could possibly do. Their captivity was going to come to an end, on their terms.

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6407 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Spencer stared at the blank screen, mortification petrifying him in place. He was unable to tear his eyes away from where'd he'd last seen your face just before Walter Khan's boot crushed their feed.

Him, Hotch and Kate had arrived back at the station by the time you'd been placed in the car. The further you were driven, the more glitchy the feed became. Some words didn't come through, images flickered every now and again. The camera wasn't able to catch all of what went down during the meeting, but you'd made sure to get a good look at the big seller, knowing your team would use his image to find out who he was and find out where he would be hiding out.

Spencer had to hold back vomit whenever Khan went close to you, no doubt putting his disgusting, murderous hands all over you. Even more so when you'd been taken to the Warehouse and saw the girls, saw the torture display in the middle of the room. How many girls had dangled in the middle of that room and suffered his torture? How young had they been?

When you began walking to the meeting room, Spencer had thought you'd made it out of there. That you were finally coming home.

But you had turned around, ran back for those innocent girls. You had been caught, your pained cries whenever Walter punched you still ringing in Spencer's ears.

The worst part, though, was Khan had known the whole time.

'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

That's when the line went dead, squashed under Khan's boot. But not before he caught a glimpse of your face. Blood gushing from your nose down your chin, hand clutching at your ribs where you'd been punched. However, a fire of defiance burned bright in your E/C eyes, visible even from the low angle.

But that did nothing to quell the rising wave of anger and fear in Spencer, raging like a tsunami higher and higher with each passing second the screen remained dead.

Where you had disappeared from in the blink of an eye; and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.

'Get it back up,' Spencer found himself demanding. To who, he really didn't know. When no one answered, the wave rose higher. 'Get it back up!'

'I-I'm trying!" Penelope cried over the speaker phone. 'Wherever they took her, they did well to make sure no cell towers were near it. Or they have really good cell blocks that pretty much render them invisible. That's what made the feed so glitchy, they're like in the middle of nowhere.'

'What about the camera? Can you track it?'

'Yes, but again, the cell blocks blocked that signal too. I can't tell you where they went outside of lower Manhattan.'

The urge to scream was almost unbearable. Instead, Spencer drove his fingers through his unruly hair, pulling at longer strands harshly to get his mind to focus on something else momentarily. This couldn't be happening. You were safe, you were home free. Damnit, why did you have to go back?

'Alert train stations south bound that drivers and passengers should keep their eyes out for those girls along any tracks,' Hotch commanded to Holt. 'Send as many officers out along those tracks from the nearest stations. Those girls are the key to finding L/N, but they're being hunted so we need to find them first.'

'Of course,' Holt managed to get out, his face pale with terror. Good, Spencer thought. Holt at least had half a mind to look guilty, considering he was the one that put you there.

'I'll go with you, we'll need as many people on the ground as we can,' Derek offered, to which Hotch nodded his approval and Derek jogged after Holt as he ran back into the office.

Spencer's feet moved before his mouth did, halfway to the door before he said, 'I'm going, too.'

'No,' Hotch said. 'I need you to stay here and work with Garcia on a geographical profile on Walter Khan. Find out everything about him, more importantly whether he has any major properties south of Manhattan he could be operating out of.'

Spencer opened his mouth to argue. How could Hotch expect him to sit idly by a map while you were with the unsub being beaten or worse...

A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him to look down at a concerned-looking JJ. 'Don't worry, Spence,' she said softly. 'Kate and I will go help as well. You and Pen are the only ones who can figure this out, so the sooner you do that, the quicker we can bring Y/N home, okay?'

Usually, the logical answer presented itself in Spencer's mind first. What JJ said was the most logical explanation, he knew. Even so, his heart yearned to find Walter Khan and wring his neck for all he was worth. It was an overwhelming urge, similar to the one he had when on his dilaudid addiction many years ago.

The memories of what that addiction did to him - how it almost destroyed his life - was what brought him back to his logical conclusion.

He nodded at JJ and stepped aside so her and Kate could follow Derek. Kate gave him a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of his upper arm, then her and JJ were gone. That left himself, Rossi, Penelope on the phone, and Hotch.

'Dave,' Hotch said, 'You and I are going down to the Chateau and questioning Madame Lacroix. She's got to be back there by now. And she's going to tell us everything she knows about the operation this time.'

'Whether she likes it or not,' Rossi added, nodding at Hotch in agreement as he made to pick up his coat from the chair he'd previously been sitting on.

'Waitwaitwaitwait!' The high pitch urgency of Penelope's voice halted Hotch and Rossi's movements as her face appeared on the huge screen, scrunched with worry.

'What is it, Garcia?' Hotch asked.

'I've been trying to track Y/N's camera location since she got to wherever they're holding her,' she explained, her voice a little high-pitched in desperation. She continued typing furiously on her keyboard as she did.

'You found her?' Spencer asked, his voice desperate, hopeful.

'I wish I could say yes, boy wonder,' she apologised. 'However, while tracking, an unknown window popped up. Check this out...'

Another few clicks on her end and a window - the one she found - popped up beside Penelope's face. The image in that window, however, had Spencer's stomach plummeting through the ground.

You hung with your hands above your head by a chain in the middle of a room, your now bare feet just scraping along the hay that lay all around the floor. You were back in the Warehouse, in the place where you'd shown Spencer and the team where the girls were held and-

'Oh my God,' Penelope breathed out, voice trembling with horror at your beaten state. The camera appeared to be setup on a tripod, keeping your entire body in frame. They'd all seen you fight, but only now could they see the damage you'd taken.

Blood dripped from your nose, down your chin and had already stained the front of your dress a deeper scarlet. Your breaths were laboured, as if you were concentrating on keeping yourself from passing out. You were too far away to make out any other injuries, but Spencer had no doubt the bruises hadn't come out just yet.

'Garcia,' Hotch began, but even in her shocked state, Penelope answered.

'Already on it, sir,' she said, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks to type into her keyboard. 'Triangulating where the feed is coming from.'

It was like the world was slowing down for Spencer the longer he looked at you hanging there. The team had always joked that his IQ always slashed in half whenever he was around you. But that was usually because he couldn't find the words to talk to you properly, how to articulate in the right words just exactly how you made him feel.

In a way, the same thing was happening to him right now, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think because of terror. Because of Walter Khan, who finally strolled into frame, suit jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His rings glinted under the fluorescent lights as he waved at the camera, a smug grin on his face.

'Hi there, FBI,' he said in a sing-song voice. He looked over his shoulder, shuffled so the camera could see you again. 'Say hi to your friends, Y/N. I'm sure they're just... so happy to see you.'

You didn't respond, keeping your gaze just south of the camera, barely blinking. 'She's disassociating,' Rossi stated, recognising like Spencer, that far away look in your eyes. 'She's preparing for torture.'

Spencer gulped as Khan walked over to you slowly, prowling around you like a predator admiring his catch for the night. He remained silent as he did, and Spencer wondered for a moment if that was all he was going to do.

With the speed of a striking snake, however, he gripped your chin with one hand, the chain holding you rattling as you tried and failed to pull away. Grunts of effort escaped you as he forced you to look at the camera.

'Now, now, Y/N,' he cooed, brushing your loose hair away from your face with his free hand. 'There's no need to be shy. Say something.'

Before you could even react, he slammed his fist into your stomach, ripping a pained groan from you. But not a scream. You bit your lip hard. You probably didn't want to give Khan the satisfaction of hearing your pain. A small, hopeful part inside Spencer warmed with pride at your resilience.

Khan let go of your face and took a step back, eyes raking you up and down with a sick, sadistic admiration. 'So you think you're tough, huh?' he challenged, walking to stand behind you and place both hands on your right shoulder. 'Come on, don't hold back those beautiful sounds, baby.'

In one sharp motion, he pressed either side of your shoulder in opposite directions, causing a loud pop to echo through the room. A sharp squeak escaped your lips, but you bit down on your lip again, allowing nothing else out. The light glinted off the tears that brimmed your E/C eyes, but they did not fall. You would not let them, Spencer realised.

Khan's lips split into a sadistic grin, one that clearly revelled in the pain he brought to you. Fire stirred in the pit of Spencer's stomach, which then spread through his limbs, to the tips of his fingers, toes and head.

Never in his life had he had the greater urge to physically harm someone than Walter Khan in that moment.

'So beautiful,' Khan continued, his gentle strokes across your bloodied chin a stark contrast to his previous harsh movement. 'I knew you'd be my favourite the moment you walked through the door. You're not like other girls...'

Bile rose in Spencer's throat when Khan leaned in close to you and tried to kiss you on the lips. You still had enough strength in you to turn away so he brushed your cheek instead. When Khan tried to tilt your head to kiss you properly, you lashed out with your teeth, catching his upper lip and yanking on it. Hard.

Khan pulled back at the sudden attack with an agonised cry, clasping both hands on his lip. Blood seeped through his hands, and when he pulled away, Spencer saw that Khan's teeth and chin were covered in blood.

'Bitch,' he swore, slamming a fist a little higher than your stomach this time, no doubt breaking some ribs. You sucked in air loudly, your gasp masking the cry that Spencer could tell wanted to come out. God, she must be in so much pain. It sickened Spencer knowing what was happening to you and not being able to do anything about it.

'Garcia, anything?' Hotch asked, his usually steady voice cracking with worry as he continued to look at the screen.

'I'm trying, sir. I'm trying!' she cried.

As if sensing their urgency, Khan looked back to the camera and walked back over until only he was in the frame. Drops of blood stained his white shirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he grinned maniacally into the camera. Although Spencer knew he couldn't see them, he felt like Khan was looking directly at him, taunting him, challenging him.

'By the time you find her,' he began, 'she'll be dead. And I'll be long gone. Until next time, FBI.'

Walter Khan's smile was the last thing Spencer saw before the screen went black and the window closed and now it was only him, Penelope, Hotch and Rossi again.

'I-I'm sorry, sir,' Penelope managed out, her voice barely higher than a whisper. 'I-I-I couldn't f-find her. The signal was being rerouted all across the world.'

'We've got to move fast,' Hotch said, and him and Rossi were gone.

Spencer didn't say a word to begin with, unable to get the image of you hanging in that torture chamber out of his head.

By the time you find her, she'll be dead.

He never thought anyone of his team mates would go out being killed in action. Plenty have come and gone from the team, but not been killed. In some naive way, he figured you all were invincible - that nothing would tear you apart.

But after discovering Gideon dead only a few weeks ago, that fantasy of the team staying together forever was cracked. With your life now on the line, too, the cracks were starting to get bigger, with some pieces falling away entirely.

'Spencer,' Penelope's gentle voice brought him out of his own bubble of despair. 'I'm so sorry.'

The overwhelming urge to scream welled up in him - he didn't quite know for who or for what he wanted to scream at, just that it sounded like a better action to take than punching someone. But he didn't scream.

Instead, he gathered himself and turned to look at Penelope, face steeled by sheer will because he had to keep it together if he wanted to bring you home. 'It's Khan who should be sorry,' he replied, voice steady with threat. 'Let's get to work.'

~~~

Pain. It's all you felt. Even three hours later after Khan's beating, you still felt the ghost of his fist pounding into your stomach, into your ribcage. A sharp, piercing pain ricocheted through them whenever you inhaled too quickly. Definitely two or three broken, you concluded.

You laid on the hay on the floor. Khan had lowered your chain which alleviated some pain and pressure from your dislocated shoulder and bruising wrists. But he hadn't done it to help you. 'Don't want you breaking too soon, Y/N,' he had whispered to you when he'd laid you gently to rest. And from his accompanying smile, you knew it was just all a game to him.

He'd been gone for three hours - counting the time helped you forget the pain and terror wracking your body. Despite that, you hadn't allowed yourself to sleep. Daylight seeped through the top windows, bathing you in a warm glow that made you shiver with momentary bliss. You didn't realise how cold you were until the rays hit you.

The metallic taste of blood still haunted your lips even now that your nose had stopped running with it. It still throbbed though, but it was a dull ache in comparison to your shoulder. You could only imagine how rough you looked, and not in a good way.

The thought made you smile, if only for a moment.

The soft patter of footsteps made you sit upright despite your pain, made you pull your hands close to your chest and look at the door as it opened. You kept your face neutral as you watched Walter Khan walk in alone. He wore a new suit today: navy blue with a lilac undershirt and a navy tie with lighter blue and purple flowers embroidered onto it randomly. God, he was pretentious in every manner of the word.

He didn't walk to you straight away as you expected. Instead, he walked over to the table of torture devices to a remote hanging from the ceiling just above it. He pressed the upper button and suddenly you were jerked upwards as the chain retracted higher. You couldn't contain the yelp of pain that escaped you as your arms were pulled harshly over your head once more, placing intense pressure on your throbbing shoulder once more. He let go of the button just before your feet left the ground entirely.

Satisfied, he grabbed a clean towel and a bucket that sat underneath the table. He picked them both up and walked over to you, placed them both on the ground as he continued to look you over. He did that for a minute in silence before you couldn't take it anymore.

'What?' you asked in mock confusion. 'Have I got something on my face?'

You hated how that brought a smile to his ugly face. 'You really should lay off on the moxie, sweetheart,' he said, crouching to wet the towel in the bucket before standing back up to continue talking. 'I really do like that in a girl.'

'Girl, huh? That your preferred age?'

He shrugged, bringing the towel up to your face. Before you could lean away, he used his free hand to grip your chin, keeping you with a firm hold in place as he dabbed the wet towel across your chin, around your nose, and across your lips.

He was cleaning you up.

You were more confused than disgusted. Perhaps a little relieved to be rid of the taste of blood finally, but you would never admit that. If his goal was to kill you, why bother cleaning you up?

His dabs at your face were uncharacteristically soft. 'You've done this before,' you said, only now realising how hoarse your throat was from dehydration and the cold air.

He nodded, his eyes never straying from his task. 'I prefer my girls to be... cleaner than other ones.' He meant other prostitutes, other establishments, you realised. It was a compulsion, even knowing you weren't one of his "girls".

'Would you have to clean Roxy and the others up, too?' you asked despite knowing the answer. 'You get off on seeing others bleed, don't you Khan. It wasn't enough that you would use them, strip them of their dignity, as if they were just toys.'

One second you were breathing air, the next you were choking underneath the crushing pressure that was Khan's grip. His hold was so strong it had you seeing stars in seconds.

'I would stop talking if I were you, bitch,' he hissed, venom dripping from every word. His calm demeanour remained intact, but even with your blurred vision you saw an animalistic rage burning in his eyes.

A caged animal just waiting to be unleashed.

'You don't know anything about me,' he continued. 'And you don't know the half of what I am capable of.'

His grip on you eased a little but not completely. However, it was enough for you to find your voice again. 'I know,' you started, voice slightly wheezy from the lack of air, 'you must have suffered under the hands of someone, probably a woman in the prostitution business, when you were younger. Otherwise... why would you hate women so much?'

He gave you a strange look, one that was sceptical, angry, and intrigued at the same time. Good, if he was off guard, he might slip up and give you something of value.

'Was it your mother?' you asked. 'A sister, aunt?' When he didn't answer you continued. 'Whoever it was must be the reason why you feel as if you've been let down your entire life. That's why you built this empire, isn't it? But even now, successful and thriving off others' pain... that person made you feel you are not enough, and so nothing ever will be. But that person is gone, and you can't show them how successful you've been. That's why you hurt others, right? Because, not only can't you hurt her, you refuse to hurt the one person you hate the most... yourself.'

He stepped back from you completely, and, for the first time, his calm facade breaks to show slivers of horror and shock at your observation. Looks like I hit the nail on the head.

He looked at you for a moment longer, that haunted expression on his face making him look more sick as he shadows of birds flew over his face. You became concerned when he suddenly ran out of the room, leaving you hanging with a clean face and more questions than answers.

You had gotten under his skin; he'd shown you a weak point in his life that you could use against him. He'd looked rattled, which made you more scared than when he was calm. Walter Khan didn't strike you as the kind of man that didn't always make sure he had the upper hand in every situation he walked into. But when he didn't, when he was backed into a corner...

Caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

'What have I done?' you asked into the empty room, but you were still surprised when no one answered back.

~~~

When his vision began splitting in two, Spencer rubbed at his tired eyes. He'd been staring at the map the police station had provided for over five hours now. Him and Penelope had found nothing - no properties in his name, no previous history in the areas, nothing.

But Spencer had kept looking though, refusing to believe that Walter Khan's trail went cold here. Not when he was doing who knew what to you. It was the only thought that kept him motivated, kept his tired eyes from closing entirely on him despite their great protest.

The rising sun wasn't helping with his vision either. After being awake all night, the introduction to natural light and blue skies was a shock to the system he was still adjusting to.

'Any updates from Morgan, JJ or Kate?' he asked, his voice rumbling with exhaustion.

Penelope had remained on the video feed since the others had left, refusing to leave Spencer alone. Maybe she thought he would do something reckless without supervision. If he was being honest, he couldn't blame her for thinking that, not when the murderous urge to strangle Khan with all Spencer's might tingled the tips of his fingers.

Or maybe that was the twelve cups of coffee he'd had in the past five hours finally kicking in.

'Not yet, sorry.' Penelope said wistfully, blinking several times as she continued looking at a screen off to the side of the camera. Even in her tired state, she refused to rub at her face like Spencer in order to preserve her glorious makeup. Spencer had to admit it was impressive. She had a lot more self control than she gave herself credit for.

Just the thought alone had him rubbing his eyes again. 'Are you sure there isn't anything we've missed? What about Q25, Garcia? What's there?'

'Nothing but trees once more, boy wonder.' She heaved a sad, frustrated sigh. 'We've been looking at the same area for hours now and still nothing! What am I doing wrong?'

'It's not you, Garcia,' Spencer offered politely. Truthfully, he simultaneously felt no one was doing enough to find you, and yet they were exhausting everything they could to do so. But he was the one who promised to bring you home, who said it would all be over soon.

It was his fault you were still not found. There was something he wasn't seeing, and every second his supposedly big brain spent trying to figure it out was another second you could be being tortured.

He didn't let the thought that maybe you were already dead linger too long. Not when Hotch and Rossi stormed into the room, exhaustion and anger lining their weary faces. Spencer glanced behind them to see Madame Lacroix and two other men - one older with grey hair, the other much younger - being escorted into holding cells down the corridor.

'Madame Lacroix was a dead end,' Hotch explained before anyone could ask. 'But we managed to expose them for their involvement in Khan's business, and also the other illegal trades they've all been dealing with on the side. L/N's reports and photographs should be enough evidence to charge them on at least that.'

'But we can't bust them just yet on Khan,' Rossi added, his tone defeated. 'Any luck on the geo-profile?'

Spencer shook his head regrettably. 'There are no properties or anything that may indicate he has ties in the direction we think he's operating out of.'

'It's either just woodland or innocent estate living,' Penelope added. 'All names check out, they're not aliases.'

'Morgan, JJ, and Kate better find those girls soon then,' Rossi said. 'They seem to be our only guide to where Khan is hiding out.'

'The thing that is odd to me though,' Hotch started, 'is why he is hanging around. Why not kill L/N knowing she's an agent? Why not skip town or relocate as soon as possible?'

'Because it's a compulsion now,' Spencer found himself saying. He wasn't sure if it was from lack of sleep that he sounded delusional, but he kept talking. He needed to talk, anything to keep his mind off the alternatives. 'Y/N engrained herself so much into his operation that he may have deluded himself into thinking he can make her one of his girls for real.'

'So he'll keep her and use her just like the others,' Rossi said grimly. 'And when she eventually lets him down - as they all have - he'll kill her.'

'We'll find her before it gets to that point,' Hotch said so assuredly that Spencer almost believed it. But the odds were against them, and time was running out.

As if the universe was listening in, Penelope's gasp sent tremors of terror through Spencer as they all turned to her on the screen. 'Guys! The feed is back online!'

'Pull it up and start tracking it,' Hotch ordered, and Penelope didn't need telling twice as she did just that.

You were hanging again, but the blood that covered the lower half of your face was now gone. Your dress was ruffled and dirty in some places, and straws of hay were tangled in your messy hair. He must've lowered you for the remainder of the night, but from the dark circles under your weary eyes, Spencer guessed you hadn't slept.

'He cleaned her up,' Rossi noticed too.

'That's a good thing right?' Penelope said, pausing her tracking for a second.

'No,' Spencer replied. 'It means he's got more in store for her.'

'You were right, Reid. It's a compulsion,' Rossi added.

'Keep tracking, Garcia,' Hotch said.

And there he was.

Walter Khan entered the frame, but instead of taunting them through the camera like last time, he walked straight over to you as if the camera wasn't even on. He grasped your chin, causing you to jerk backwards with a gasp.

'How did you know that?' he asked, voice tight and restrained. When you didn't answer, he pulled you closer with a harsh tug that caused the chains to rattle. 'How did you know?!'

'Lucky... Lucky guess, I suppose,' you replied, eyes flicking from Khan to the camera and back. Something had happened between the last feed and now, Spencer concluded. Some interaction that has brought out the frantic Khan.

'No!' He slapped you, sending you spinning around on the chain. When you swung back towards the camera, the sun highlighted the blood on your lip, how it trembled as you did. 'You knew about my life! No one does! So how would an undercover agent of all people know?'

'Maybe you're just... not as slick as you think you are,' you said in between haggard breaths. Spencer could only imagine how much pain you were in. He was both extremely proud of and extremely terrified for you.

Khan let out a growl that rattled the conference room it was that loud. He lashed out with a hard punch to your gut, then a slanted punch on your knee, receiving a loud crunch and crack in return.

For the first time since being caught, you screamed. It was the most horrible sound Spencer had ever heard in his life - even worse than the gunshot that killed Maeve. It echoed through the Warehouse, a guttural, pained sound that would haunt not only Spencer's dreams but Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope's too.

You gathered yourself quickly and bit down on your lip, silencing your cries. Sunlight showed the tears that gathered at your eyes, still refusing to fall. But Spencer could tell it was taking all you had to keep it together. You knew they were watching. You probably were holding it together for them.

The pride and terror he felt for you was overwhelming to a point his knees almost buckled. But if you could keep it together while being tortured, he could do it too.

Once you'd calmed your breathing, you looked back at Khan, hate in your beautiful E/C eyes. 'Beating me... will get you nowhere... I refuse... to break to you.'

Everyone held their breaths as you held your stare with Khan, and Spencer realised it then.

It hit him in consistent waves that made it hard to catch his breath or even fully realise what was happening. It was how you stared down the crook man, unrelenting, unwavering, unbreakable. It was how, even at you most vulnerable, you made sure to put on a brave face for the team, for him. He hadn't dared think it before - not after Maeve. But the heavy thuds of his heart couldn't be mistaken.

Khan contemplated you for a moment, and then pulled out a pocket knife from his pants. He was calm again which Spencer didn't like one bit. 'Very well, then. You want to act tough?' He didn't wait for a reply as he sliced the top button of your dress off expertly. Then another and another, until almost the entirety of your bra showed. 'Let's see how tough you really are.'

Your eyes blew wide in terror finally realising what his intentions were. Spencer realised a second after, and his blood boiled painfully.

'Garcia,' Spencer managed out, unable to take his eyes off you as Khan sliced off another button and another. By the time he got to the last one, exposing your underwear too, Spencer was on the verge of a panic attack. 'Garcia!'

'I'm honing in on it now!' she called back, but it wasn't enough to quell his fear.

Khan slipped off the dress with a few more slices of the knife, then proceeded to pocket it and press himself against your back. You tried pulling away, but Khan's arms were around you already, feeling you everywhere, violating you.

That's when the tears finally fell. A broken sob escaped your bloodied, trembling lips as Khan's hands dragged all over you, brushing away the hair on your neck to press a sickeningly gentle kiss there.

But instead of completely crumbling, you looked directly into the camera and said, 'I would've said yes.'

For a moment it was just him and you. You words were so soft he almost didn't believe you said them. Spencer saw out of the corner of his eyes Hotch and Rossi didn't understand, but this wasn't about them. You were speaking directly to Spencer, probably with full faith that he was watching and that he was on his way to save you already.

Khan paused his ministrations at the odd statement, giving you a confused look. 'What?'

'I would've said yes,' you repeated, but this time there was a resignation to your words. As if you accepted that those would be the last words anyone would hear you speak. Spencer quickly realised that, as much as you believed he was coming, you didn't believe you would be alive when he finally did.

Khan followed your gaze to the camera, his expression changing as he realised you weren't talking to him.

'I would've said yes,' you said again, not once looking away from the camera.

Khan's hands retracted from you.

'I would've said yes.'

He walked over to the camera.

'I would've said yes.'

'You disappeared behind his huge frame.

'I would've said yes.'

He reached out to switch it off.

'I would've said-'

The feed went dark. The room fell silent, but only for a second. As Spencer stormed out of the room, slamming the door open as he did. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of that room.

I would've said yes.

The way you'd said it was like you were trying to make sure he heard you - that, as your last words to him, you wanted to let him know of what could've been.

He stormed into the break room where thankfully nobody resided in. He slammed his fist on one of the tables, and kicked at the chair residing at it. Anger coursed through every fibre in him, at Khan, at Holt, at himself.

I would've said yes.

'Reid.'

Spencer turned to find Rossi standing in the doorway, concern wrinkling his weathered features more. 'You okay?' he asked, slowly walking into the room fully then closing the door behind him. 'What was that about?'

'She would've said yes,' was all Spencer could manage out in his wild state of mind, finding it hard to breathe he was so wound up. 'She would've...'

'I heard that,' Rossi said gently. 'I don't know what that means. But you clearly do. So spill, boy genius. What did she mean by that?'

Spencer tugged at his hair in frustration. 'Before she left I asked her out,' he explained, voice rising as his worry did. 'She was never able to give me an answer because she was sworn to secrecy, and I thought that all this time she never liked me liked that because we've been friends for so long, but she would've said yes. You heard her! She would've said yes! And now she-'

'Okay, okay, okay,' Rossi interrupted, gently grabbing Spencer by his arms and guiding him to the chair he'd kicked just before. Spencer didn't have the strength to fight the older man, allowing himself to be guided into a seat.

Rossi crouched in front of Spencer, holding Spencer's shaking hands in his steady ones. 'Just breathe, Reid. Just breathe.'

Spencer followed Rossi' instructions as best as he could, but panic and despair had already crept in. 'Do you know,' he started, lips trembling, voice quaking with emotions he couldn't quite understand, 'that friendships that last longer than seven years... that they are meant to last for life? Y/N and I... we've been friends for a decade.'

'I know,' Rossi answered gently. 'You, JJ, Penelope and Y/N are quite close.'

'Yes, but,' Spencer continued through the sniffles, 'Y/N's always been there. Not just for me, but with me. I never realised how integral to my life she was until she left. I never realised that my love for her was something more until it was too late.'

'You love her?'

Only when Rossi pointed it out did Spencer realise what he'd admitted. But it wasn't a casual slip of the tongue - it was intentional, it was true, it was the only thing he wanted to say because he hated how long it took him to realise it for himself.

He nodded slowly, tears running down his cheeks. 'I didn't know it at first, but it didn't just happen overnight. Truth is... I think I've loved her from the day I met her. Platonically at first, but it's grown as we have, and she is so precious to me Rossi. I can't lose her. I can't.'

Sobs wracked his boney body as he broke down. Rossi pulled him into an awkward but comforting hug, and Spencer couldn't express how grateful he was for such comfort. Rossi had grown into the father figure he'd made Gideon out to be; and while Spencer had learnt to stand on his own two feet, it was reassuring knowing he had someone older and wiser to rely upon.

'It's like Maeve all over again,' Spencer found himself saying, still clinging onto Rossi like his life depended on it. 'Just when I glimpse happiness, it's snatched away. And there is nothing I can do about it.'

'No, no,' Rossi said, pulling back to look Spencer directly in his amber eyes. 'You listen to me, boy wonder. We are going to find her, and we're going to bring her home. And you are going to tell her how you feel and finally take her on a date. Is that understood?' When Spencer didn't answer, Rossi continued.

'Remember how when Maeve died, you holed yourself up in your apartment for weeks, and didn't talk to anyone?' Spencer nodded, but only because he didn't quite understand why Rossi was bringing it up. 'And remember how we all came by to visit, but mostly Y/N? That was because she believed you were strong enough to get through it. She never doubted you, never gave up on you, Spence. Are you really going to return the favour by giving up on her?'

Spencer stared at Rossi for a moment, perplexed that he even would suggest such a thing. He quickly wiped his tears away, though. 'No,' he answered, voice stern and hopeful.

'Good,' Rossi replied, standing back up. 'Now use that big brain of yours. There's got to be something that we missed.'

Before Spencer could answer, the door to the break room swung open to reveal a flustered Derek Morgan. 'We found them,' he said between heavy breaths. 'We found the girls.'

Another Day 1

Warnings: dub-con/non-con, age gap, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, emotional abuse, physical abuse, possibly other triggering events. 

Characters: dark!Steve Rogers.

Summary: Be careful what you wish for, one day it could come true. And that might just be your savior in disguise, all it takes is a little bit of persuasion. 

Interact on your own accord. You have been warned. 

Any reblog, comment, feedback is well received and appreciated! Enjoy <3 

Another week, another day, another hour. Every single time the same.

It’s like a torturous cycle that’s never ending. Like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you and you’re waiting for someone, anyone to come out with cameras and tell you that you’re on a reality TV show and this was just an experiment. 

Or at least wishing that you were like the main character from The Truman Show and one day you would find a way out. But what a surprise. Life isn’t that simple. 

You let out a sigh as you throw your head back, leaning in the hard chair at your dull job. You look up at the grey painted ceiling, forgetting about the cheap lightbulb that was ironically placed above you in the exact same spot you are seated in as the awful light shines on your face. 

You immediately squint your eyes, reverting your gaze away from the light, regretting that you ever made the decision to look up, getting even more frustrated with the situation you found yourself in. 

You swear internally as you get up from the chair while closing the laptop, yet another cheap object provided by your employer. Your job working at a sales agency never was much of an interest honestly but as long as you can afford your rent and groceries you could never complain that much. 

As you went to take your coat, you look over at your coworker with a defeated smile on your face.

“Gonna go out for a bit, I need a break… Let me know if you need any help.”

He barely gives a nod in return, not even sparing a glance in your way, clearly his full attention being on whatever he was doing on his laptop.

You pay no mind to it though, already used to people not giving you much thought. You make your way toward the exit of the rather small and depressing building, grateful that you were placed on the ground floor instead of the third or fourth floor, obviously no elevator in sight. 

Only stairs. A lot of them. 

Your whole body shivers as you make contact with the cold weather, which probably was like three or four degrees outside. Your coat not doing much either as you look at the fog that was forming at every breath you took.

You wrap your arms around yourself in hope of making the cold more bearable as you look around, at nothing in particular, just observing people walking by, kids playing in the snow and couples holding hands. 

It brought a smile to your face as you enjoy the crowded street, losing yourself in the noise and the nostalgic feeling it gives you. Remembering the old days where you were walking with your mom, just talking and laughing, without a care in the whole world. 

Yet the bittersweet moment doesn't last for long as you are rudely awakened from your daydream. You feel a body crashing into yours. You quickly look up, startled by the sudden interaction. A man with blonde hair and blue eyes, obviously taller than you. 

He looks down at you with an apologetic expression, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“So sorry sweetheart, in this crowd it’s too hard to see much of anything.” he gives a small chuckle. 

You stare at him dumbfounded. He tilts his head as he waits patiently for your response, unfortunately you realize only after a few seconds what has happened. You straighten yourself.

“S-sorry, sir, I didn't mean to be rude,” you shake your head in embarrassment.

“And no, no problem at all!” You quickly add, cursing at how your voice went up a pitch. 

He gives a small hum in return, still smiling, seeming as if he’s pleased with your reply.

“In this case, if you don’t mind me asking,” he looks around. 

“I seem to be a bit lost, do you perhaps know where I can find Elite Sales?” 

Your eyes go wide as you hear him call out the name of the company you work for, but quickly regain yourself. Of course he wouldn’t know where to find it. The goddamn company didn’t even think to at least put up a poster with the half assed, original name as they call it, on the damn building. 

“Good thing you found me then,” you gave the man a smile.

“I work for the company, I can help you with whatever you’re looking to buy.” you say trying to be as polite as possible as you instinctively go into the customer service voice. 

“Here is our, er, building.” 

He took his time studying the building in question as you patiently wait for him to make a move. You watch him with curious eyes, they can't help but wander as you study every single detail. The way he's dressed… long heavy coat, turtleneck sweater which fits his upper body perfectly, showing how well built he is, classic straight slim suit pants and classic leather shoes which on their own probably cost more than what you make in a single month.

‘’I don’t mind the staring sweetheart… but I’m kind of in a hurry.’’

You snap back to reality as you realize how he probably saw you staring at him like an idiot. You feel so stupid and embarrassed, you don't even say anything back. You make your way inside the building, dreading the work that awaits you. Occasionally stealing glances at the man, making sure he is still following behind you. You see your only coworker present in the room, being as busy as ever, still not acknowledging you nor the customer.  

‘’Right then, if you could kindly explain to me what exactly you’re looking for?’’ you say as you take a pen and notebook from your desk.

He lets out a sigh as he folds his arms ‘’Not entirely sure…’’

Your eye twitches just the tiniest bit. Not the first time you have to deal with customers like him.

‘’Sir, I can’t help you if you don’t give me at least an idea.’’ you say as your patience is starting to wear thin.

‘’Alright, alright,’’ he chuckles.

You give him a frown as you don’t find any of this funny, but he just brushes you off as he continues.

‘’Tell me sweetheart, how are your safety locks?’’ he looks at you with a serious expression.

You were taken aback by his sudden mood change. You blink a couple of times until finally, you reply.

‘’…Could you please elaborate?’’

He shifts to lean against the wall, in a more relaxed position.

‘’Let’s say, for example, I put all of my most prized possessions in a room. I need something to keep it safe, locked.’’ he says, not once breaking eye contact.

‘’Not just any lock.’’

You think for a moment, taking in his words. You hesitantly nod your head yes while you write the information down in your notebook.

‘’Alright sir, I’ll see what I can find.’’ you say as you finish writing the last word ‘’Can I help you with anything else?’’

The man gives you a smile as he moves away from the wall, now standing fully straight  ‘’That would be all, dear.’’

‘’Perfect. If you could please give me a name and a phone number so I will know how to contact you?’’ you quickly add, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

‘’Steve Rogers,’’ he starts saying then ends the sentence with his phone number information.

You thank him as you finish writing everything down, now waiting for him to just leave and be on his way.

As he gets to the exit door, he stops for a second to look at you. He calls out your name with a smile on his face, wishing you a good day before leaving. You stand in your spot without moving as you stare dumbly at the door that closed behind him.

You never told him your name.

Deceitful

@whumpuary AO3

Prompt 1

Captivity | Snow

Prompt 8

Muffled screams

CW: captivity, slave whump, left out in the cold, nonhuman whumpee, lady whumper, restraints, muzzles, slapping

The Champion taglist: @emmettverse , @ostensiblyfunctional , @scoundrelwithboba

It wasn't usual for the Cerulean Crescent to receive snowfall, but on occasion there'd be a winter where the temperatures drop low enough.

When you're located higher up in altitude - like Master Scarlet's manor, rested on the mountainside overlooking the valley below - the likelihood increases.

The Champion assumed the view would be appealing to those with a taste for luxury. At least when it wasn't obstructed by the darkness of night and the drowning haze of a snowstorm. He guessed many would find a more clear daytime view a pleasing sight, like a painting in a museum.

He himself never saw the appeal.

He never did like the cold.

Snow was cruelly deceitful. From afar the crystalline flakes looked harmless, coating the outside world in what many compare to a pristine, white fluffy blanket.

Another gust of bitter wind rattled his bones, and the Champion tried and failed again to pull his trembling limbs against his core in effort to keep warm. The thin silks draped over his body provided little protection.

Snow crystals were more akin to tiny knives if you asked him. Their gelid touch searing his toes where he stood. He spent several minutes earlier trying to clear away all the snow beneath his feet, but the shackles at his ankles didn't grant him much room.

He had messed up again.

Master had a guest over, some rich businessman dressed with the money he'd leached from his workers and customers. His jewelry by itself would probably pay for several bets for the Champion’s ring matches. The fabrics had so many ostentatious colors the tiefling had a hard time telling which garment was which.

Master had ordered him to serve the two. So he relayed refreshments back and forth from the servant tending the bar and the servant arriving from the kitchen. Of course, he wasn't permitted to touch any of the food or drinks, not even with his stomach gnawing in protest. The Champion’s only purpose there was to obey, be silent, and look pretty.

It certainly wasn't pretty when he tripped over the edge of the rug and sent two full glasses of red wine spilling onto the man's expensive outfit.

A desperate apology was halfway past his lips when a backhand struck him across the face. Rings painted red onto his cheek. Pain rang in his ears, dulling the sound of the man's furious yelling.

Master said not a word, but closed the distance between them before the Champion could recover. One hand waved and a spell lifted the stains from her guest's clothes. After calling for a servant to come assist the man, her other hand snatched her pet by his horns and began dragging him towards the balcony.

He knew by now that resisting would make things worse.

It hadn't been his first time on the outdoor space. When it was warm out, and when he was being well behaved, Master would allow him to accompany her outside. But tonight the cold was wet and unforgiving and the Champion was to be punished.

Master must've planned for this at some point. There were already metal chains bolted to the brick exterior wall waiting for him.

Their frigid bite snapped right to the bone.

How long has it been since she left him there? Hours? It definitely felt like it. The lashing winds seemed endless and the Champion stood unable to shield himself. The chains forced his limbs apart and all he could do was press his fingers into his palms, press his raised arms against his ears, and curl his tail around his waist. Granting meager solace to vulnerable extremities from the icy curtains raining down.

It didn't help much.

He wished he could scream. He'd already tried. Tried to call to his master and plead to be spared further torment from the elements. But it was no use with the muzzle. Master had strapped it to his face right before heading back to the heated comfort of the indoors. All his cries were muffled before they ever had a chance to echo off the mountainside.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut, afraid that the stinging gales would freeze any tears to his face. That's likely why he didn’t notice Master approach until she was snapping her fingers to get the tiefling’s attention.

He didn't understand how the frozen night wasn't bothering her.

The shackles released him, letting him fall into the snow when his feet were too numb to support his body. The wet sapped at fleeting body heat but he was too cold and too tired to do anything but shiver where he laid.

“Well?” Master’s voice rang clear above him, unfazed and apathetic. “Do you wish to return inside or not?”

Oh. So she was expecting him to drag himself back this time.

At least forcing himself to crawl across the balcony brought some feeling back into his hands.

The blissful embrace of the fireplace's warmth was only slightly dampened by Master making him apologize to the man for the spilled wine.

It was dampened far more when, instead of allowing him to curl up on the hearth, to chase away the chills trapped against his skin, she ordered him to the couch to lie in her lap.

The Champion hated how easily he submitted to it. Even more than the snow.