Warnings: Kidnapping, Captivity, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Hostage Situations, Disturbing Themes. Nothing graphic but some scenes will be disturbing and they're intended to be. This fic isn't all sturm and drang but there are some unsettling scenes so please read responsibly.
I've gone a bit overboard with the warning for this fic. There is humor in this fic and this is definitely not a graphic depiction of kidnapping or sexual assault, however, there are scenes that are disturbing/unsettling.
A/N: Happy Anniversary, Babies! On October 9, 2018, I celebrated my tenth anniversary of posting fanfic. How? This is my anniversary fic: a mash-up of all the fandoms I've written in so far. :)
Characters:
Audrey Parker Nathan Wuornos Duke Crocker James T. Kirk Leonard "Bones" McCoy Spock (Star Trek) Kate Beckett Richard Castle Seeley Booth Temperance Brennan Pepper Potts Tony Stark Alec Hardy Ellie Miller (Broadchurch) Edward Beck Heather Lisinski Jaime Lannister Brienne of Tarth Original Characters
*/*/*/*/*
Fenley
It's cold.
And dark.
And she can't move.
Fear gnaws at the edges of her mind as she drifts towards consciousness. She doesn't want to open her eyes. She doesn't want to wake up. Something tells her fear will be the least of her troubles once she opens her eyes.
*/*/*/*/*
Something smacks her face, first one cheek then the other, sudden, sharp, stinging.
She flinches away from the contact, from the small pain, but it follows, growing sharper and stronger every time she flinches away.
Her head seems to be all she can move. Her mind is heavy, thick, slow.
"Wake up, bitch," a low voice hisses in her ear. "It's time to get started."
Terror crowds her, overwhelms her, as her eyes flutter open. She blinks and a face comes into focus: non-descript, ordinary, weak-chinned, and almost kind-looking, if it weren't for the fact she doesn't know who he is, where she is, how she got here, or why she can't move.
He looks into her eyes and slowly smiles and now he's not so kind-looking or ordinary or innocuous as he reaches out and slowly strokes one finger down her cheek.
"We're going to have so much fun," he whispers.
She can feel a scream building in the back of her throat because she knows—she knows—and his smile widens, his lips and teeth wet and glistening, his eyes gleaming with gleeful anticipation as her mouth sags open.
"Good," he practically moans, "good. Scream. I love it when they scream."
She feels herself bending, snapping, breaking beneath the weight of her terror then, to her own surprise, she hears herself say, "Let me tell you a story."
*/*/*/*/*