I'm sooo excited you're taking requests, love! 🖤
This Jonathan Pine gif just makes me feral...
so, maybe reader has done something stupid on a mission and now she's in a greater danger. Can be as dark/smutty (or both 😏) as you feel it. I hope this works for you and there's absolutely 0 pressure (;
Radio Silence
Summary: Your mission to capture Jonathan Pine goes sideways in the most unexpected way.
Warnings: implied noncon, kidnapping, gunplay, bondage & death threats. There may be more but be aware that this is a dark fic. Read at your own discretion.
Characters: Jonathan Pine x Agent!Reader
A/N: This fic was pretty much inspired by watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Thank you, @coldnique for this request though I do apologize if it's a bit sloppy. It's Monday again.
Your feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged. Reblogs would be really amazing. Enjoy! ❤️
“I got eyes on the target.”
“Remember, don’t spook him or we will lose him again,” Hank calls through the earpiece.
“Copy that.” You say with finality before fixing your scarf to tuck your chin deep within the wool. You shove your hands in the pockets of your coat and reel into the act of a shivering civilian before looking both ways and crossing the street, heading towards the building your mark entered.
For three long years, the British Intelligence has been hunting down Jonathan Pine after going rogue and started causing havoc by selling sensitive information to interested buyers across the globe. You worked closely on the case, tracking him down and going after every lead that presented itself. But each time you think you’re a step closer to catching him, the trail quickly goes cold and you’re once more back on the drawing board.
Until one day, when an anonymous tip came of Jonathan resurfacing, that he was spotted on several occasions in a small neighborhood in Brooklyn, Hank immediately had you shipped off to New York in hopes of finally bringing him in.
You’re the most qualified for the job, Hank told you when you asked why you were going in alone and you didn’t doubt his judgment for you believed it to be true. With Jonathan gone, you were the top agent of the organization, and you’ve proven countless times your credibility in bringing down some of the most dangerous beings on the planet. But you know that wasn’t the sole reason he chose you, rather the fact that you were once mentored by the rogue agent himself.
For years, you’ve worked closely alongside him, digesting every fact and feat he would demonstrate in order for you to do your work the best that you can. All the skills he possessed were passed on that you were ranked second to him. And it secretly brought a smile to your face and had you feeling slightly cocky and confident, how the irony that his own pupil would be the one to turn him in and bring him to justice.
It still pained you though, that it had to come to this point in your career. How much you pitied your former mentor that he’s chosen to use his expertise to harm instead of continuing to protect the greater good. Either way, you won’t let your sentiments muddle your judgment. He’s done bad things and it’s your job to stop him no matter what it takes.
Leaning against the concrete wall of the building—a library, you wait a few seconds before walking in. You pat your hip through your coat pocket, making sure that your weapon is within reach. You didn’t see them upon arriving at the borough yet you’re confident that backup has been prepared and is on the ready in case the situation gets hairy.
It’s not as crowded as you expected as you walk towards the shelves of books and you don’t quite know if you should see it as a positive; giving you more visual of your surroundings, or a negative; making it slightly harder to blend in, making it easy for Joanthan to recognize you amongst the civilians. But you keep your composure, making the best of the situation and remain at the sidelines, running a hand through the spines of the hardcover while looking for a spot for you to wait.
With vigilant eyes and light feet, you peruse every aisle, keeping up the act of a college student looking for resource materials. You grab a random book from its hold and flip it open, opting to take a seat on one of the singular armchairs at the corner of the library that give you a good view of the exit as well as the round help desk at the center of the vicinity.
You whisper an update through your comms but frown when faint static plays into your ears before going radio silent on the other end. You repeat your words, hoping for any response of acknowledgment but still get none. The building must be interfering with the frequency, you think, but don’t dwell too much on the fact, choosing to focus instead on the task at hand.
People pass by in front of you and give extra attention to each dark blond you see. Yet some minutes pass and you can’t help the groan of frustration you breathe out when he’s still yet to be seen. He couldn’t have gotten far, and he wouldn’t think of using any back exits for you’re positive he hasn’t picked up your scent. Still, you remain seated and discard the thought of searching the entire library. You keep your senses on high alert for any telltale signs of his presence while flipping through the pages of the book on your lap.
“I’m terribly sorry.” You know that voice. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Your head snaps to the side, your heart rate spiking when you see him by the entrance with a book in his hand which he hands to the elderly woman clutching a cane standing in front of him. You take note of his appearance; a grey hoodie hidden underneath a leather jacket. You scoff in amusement when you see no effort into hiding his face. Rookie mistake.
As soon as his interaction with the woman ends, you stand from your seat and casually return the book to the shelf. You feign choosing a new read, counting down to ten before slowly making your way out of the building when he finally leaves.
“He’s on foot. I’m tailing him.” You call into your comms yet still, the line remains silent.
You maintain your distance while keeping your eyes locked on the back of his head and follow him down the street. You’re positive that he’s heading back to where he’s been holing up, leading you right to him. The image of him taken by shock burns into your mind and you can’t help but smile once he realizes it’s you that’s cornered him like a rat.
Blood pumps into your ears as your body sings with excitement, keeping your pursuit and grinning when he turns into an alley. Like a rat. You echo in your head and immediately reach for your weapon as you sprint down the path. Once you reach the corner, you keep to the crowd and take a deep breath before pushing into the alley.
You stand stunned in confusion when nothing but an empty backstreet greets you. You don’t understand, you just saw him come in here and yet there are no signs that giveaway any soul coming by. The wired fence up ahead is too tall to scale up fast, the fire escape ladders remain untouched. You jiggle the handle of a lone door at the side of the brick wall but it’s locked and you’re certain he wouldn’t have jimmied it open for you would have, for sure, caught him in the act.
You tuck your gun back into your holster and huff out a breath as the thought that he’s once more slipped from your grasp fills you. This can’t be! You almost had him! And yet, you are once more met with a dead end, one you don’t understand how it came to be.
Defeated, you decide to regroup back at your hideout to figure out the next steps to catching him. He couldn’t have gotten far and if you call for the local police force to cord out Brooklyn, it’s no question that he’d be apprehended just in time.
All of a sudden, you gasp in surprise when an arm wraps tightly around your neck from behind, a solid surface pressed against your back as you struggle to set yourself free from your assailant. Your hands grab the arm that entraps you when it tightens further, the muscle digging into your throat, preventing you from making a sound.
“Looking for me, sweetheart?” The deep baritone that fills your ears is all too familiar. No!
A stinging pain then blooms at the back of your neck, your breath hitching as you feel a cool, alien liquid quickly run through your veins. You’re then released, a hand pressing at your back and shoving you forward, making you drop down to your knees before you could even catch yourself.
Your breathing is suddenly labored, your skin tingling and body growing heavy that you slump face first onto the dirtied concrete floor. You fight to push yourself up except a hand grabs you by the shoulder and you’re flipped onto your back, your head cracking against the pavement. A pained groan slithers from your lips and when you open your eyes, your vision is skewed. What’s happening to me? You want to voice out but your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton.
Jonathan’s face comes into view, a wicked grin playing on his lips. You try to stand but it’s no use. Your body feels so heavy that you don’t think you can even move. He says your name, once, twice, you don’t know. Then his face blurs, mixing with the colors of the alley and the stone walls that surround you, his deep chuckle the last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you whole.
-
Your mind feels all too convoluted when you open your eyes, blinking several times before the world gradually comes into clarity. It’s like you wrestled with a bear with how your body aches, feeling it deep within your bones, making you groan. You try to move, to get off the soft surface you’re laid on but panic quickly runs through your veins when the realization that you’re naked, wrists bound together dawns on you.
Looking around frantically, you try to take in your surroundings, assessing the situation you were thrust into. You’re on a bed, plain sheets rumpled atop with a lone pillow hanging by the edge. The room is bare of any furniture leave for the singular bedside table with a lamp emanating a muted yellow hue and a singular table at the far end corner. Although, what you notice next makes the hair on your skin stand in fear, the lone dark figure sitting by the desk, a light tapping coming from its direction.
You’re certain that your captor is Jonathan, that despite your disorientation, he’s the last person you saw before you blacked out. You blink as you fight to steady your vision, your throat tightening as the fear that once took over your senses is replaced by anger. He stands and you groan as you tug on your restraints, bending your knees as you prepare yourself to fight back.
“What did you do to me?!” You snarl, swiping your legs immediately when he comes closer. “Let me go, you psycho!” Another groan pulls free from your lips when the restraints dig deep into your skin. “I’m going to kill you once I’m free! And I don’t give a fuck about what Hank says!”
A deep chuckle echoes through the room and you narrow your eyes, baring your teeth when his face comes into view. “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon, sweetheart.” He scoffs, a grin of amusement playing on his lips before he leans closer. He reaches over to caress your cheek and you quickly snap your teeth at him, barely missing his fingers when he retracts his hand. “Ohh, you’ve certainly gotten tougher since we last saw each other.”
“Better too!” You snipe and thrash against the bed when he nears you once more. “Hank knows where I am, Pine! And once backup comes, you’ll be sorry you ever—”
“Backup?” The mirth in his voice takes you aback, trepidation lacing your nerves as the grin on his face broadens. “You think backup is coming?” He emits a sinister laugh, something you didn’t expect. In an instant, a thought clicks into your head, that something has gone terribly wrong and you’re to receive the brunt of it.
His shadow leaves you as he strides back to the table he previously occupied, a patch of light illuminating his face in the darkness that shrouds him. The smile is ever-present on his face, a sickening sight and you hear him punch through the plastic keys of the device. A beep interrupts the silence, tension thickening in the air, and once more, he walks back to you, your eyes following his hand, staring down at the flip phone that he places on top of your chest.
“We got the drive, Pine.” Your blood turns cold when you hear Hank’s voice in the recording. And you don’t understand why he’s calling a fugitive. “We sent her alone so you don’t have to worry about running into trouble. Though we do expect you to uphold your end of the bargain and we will keep ours.” Your ears pique at the words your boss utters. What bargain? What does he mean by all this? “Both your files will be eradicated from the system and you shall never be bothered again.”
That can’t be! This is all a lie! It has to be!
“Oh but it isn’t a lie.” Jonathan chuckles, plucking the burner phone from your sternum, his response making you realize that you’ve voiced your thoughts out loud. “What you just heard is the cold hard truth. This whole,” he pauses, waving his hand animatedly in the air before he continues. “..operation of yours was a setup. You weren’t sent to capture me. You were simply sent as a means to an end.”
“What are you saying?! That the British Intelligence sold me for your cooperation?!” You spit, gritting your teeth in rage and disbelief, tears welling in your eyes. “They’d be fucking stupid to trust you!”
“Oh, I know. That’s why it was so easy to manipulate them.” The snap of the phone catches you by surprise, seeing the device drop to the floor, broken in half. “But it’ll be too late once they realize that they’ve made a grave mistake.” His cockiness bleeds into his words and you feel even more afraid of what he’s truly capable of. “In the end, they think they got what they wanted and I got mine.”
“Me?” You ask in disbelief and he simply laughs. “Why me?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, your body going rigid when he comes closer. “I have wanted to break you since you walked that ass of yours into the briefing room.” The bed dips from his weight when he climbs atop it. You kick your legs when he grabs them, wince when his fingers dig painfully into your flesh, your legs going slack and easily allowing him to wrap them around his waist.
Your body shivers when he presses a hand against your abdomen, fingers tickling your skin as he trails them up your torso and cups the underside of your breast. You cringe at the sight of his face, how his teeth catch his bottom lip and his sapphire eyes turn a shade darker when he gives your tit a rough squeeze.
You turn your head away when he leans closer, whimpering at how he buries his nose in the crook of your neck and deeply inhales your scent.
Tears slowly fall down your face as you gravity of the situation finally sinks in. You were sold, like a slave by the man you trusted with your life. You don’t understand why they would do this to you, why they would throw you in abandon. You did your best in every mission thrown at you, abiding by the rules and following the law, always giving your all. Even if that meant you had to exchange your life for the safety of masses.
But now, with how everything is crumbling right before your eyes, you start to think if everything you once believed in, about Hank, the organization, was a lie.
Your breath hitches when Jonathan bucks his hips against yours, the tent growing in his pants pressing roughly against your bare cunt. You cringe, disgust rolling deep in your belly, that he would have such lascivious desires towards you. He growls, his clothed pelvis rubbing further against your clit that you bite your tongue to fight a moan from escaping, cursing your anatomy and how it responds despite your internal protests.
“You don’t have to be shy around me, sweetheart.” He drawls, pulling away from your neck while his hand runs down to your side, stopping at your hip only to grab it and press you down against his erection. “See what you do to me? I had to hold myself back every time when we would wrestle around.” A salacious hum spills from his lips, a smirk forming on his face that is only inches away.
You scowl at him, eyes burning with rage. You push your head back as he attempts to close the distance, but before he could even succeed, you gather up that saliva in your mouth and spit at his face, your nostrils flaring and a smile kissing your face when he wipes his face and looks back at you with equal fury.
“You shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart.” He sneers, anger evident on his face yet you don’t let it deter you from your plans to escape. You just have to catch him off guard and you’ll have the upper hand, his training slowly filling your head.
He moves to sit up from the bed but you stop him from doing so, locking your legs around his waist tight and groaning loudly as you lean all your weight to the side to topple him over. The loud thud has you grinning in glee, making you pull your leg back to prepare for your next attack. Yet, before you could even launch your foot to kick him, a hand grabs you by the ankle, Jonathan towering over you once again and you freeze on the bed, eyes wide as your breath catching in your throat when the muzzle of a gun is pressed between your eyes.
“After years of working together, I’d expected you to know me better.” He tuts, cheek twitching when he pulls his thumb back and releases the safety. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you.”
“You and me both, asshole.” You hiss.
“You know, I could simply kill you and no one will ever care that you’re dead.”
“Then do it!” The wrath in you bursts in flames and you lean forward, having the metal cylinder press harder against your forehead. “Fucking kill me, you coward!”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I will.” He chuckles darkly. “But not now. Not when I haven’t even had my fun.”
It’s as if the anger in him dissipates as a sinister smile forms on his face. You shiver when he slowly slides the gun down your cheek, digging it on your chin before running it down the valley of your breasts. He stops at your stomach when he kneels back on the bed, your eyes following the movement of the firearm. You inhale sharply, feeling your heart pound against your chest when he rests the gun against your cunt, rolling the muzzle slowly around your clit.
You whimper when your body sings in fear, Jonathan adding pressure on your clit as he keeps his torturous act. Then he pulls the gun away, a soft sigh of relief leaving your lips but is soon replaced by a strangled cry when he angles it against your core and pushes the barrel past your folds.
Your thighs squirm at the sudden intrusion, your pussy walls clamping down on the dangerous weapon on instinct. You try to kick him away but he only pushes the barrel deeper into you, making you halt all your limbs go stiff in fear that he would pull the trigger.
“Good girl. Stay still.” He mocks praise, pulling back the gun from your cunt only to push it once again, whimpering in horror as he fucks you with it. “I wouldn’t want to ruin this beautiful pussy. At least—not yet.”
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