Okay, so could you maybe do a fic with Ler!Leland and Lee!Snitch from the kill the snitch trial? I weirdly love those two! 😭
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡
𝐋𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 (𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡)
an: thank you so much for the request!! writing these two was so fun :) i hope this is to your liking, enjoy! 🤍
cw: use of restraints
The reagent stepped foot out of the shuttle and into the trial environment of the police station, burning police cruisers and filth littering atop the concrete. Finding the entrance to the jail, they treaded warily to the door, slowly turning the handle and easing it open, scanning the inside of the room.
Upon entry was the small visiting room, although it had looked like it was the scene of a horrendous crime. Blood was smeared across the floor, shattered glass on the windows showed the reagent's reflection in twenty different ways, and all kinds of trash and god knows what was scattered all around.
Okay. Reach the security room.
They were promptly cut off from their thoughts by the sound of an enraged shout. Two television screens in the room played the live camera footage of a jail cell. A police officer stood over what appeared to be a prisoner, strapped to a chair with a sack over his head and obscuring his face. This must be the snitch. I need to get to him.
The reagent stared at the screen, fearful for what possible tragedies they would potentially observe. However, their expression quickly turned into one of pure confusion.
"I'm going to stop asking nice pretty soon."
The snitch shook his head, a half-whine escaping from his lips. He could barely see a thing; the light casting through the bag dimly illuminated a blurred figure, but the threatening tone in Coyle's voice made him shake in fear.
"What do you want?!" his voice trembled on the edge of dread, "God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"
"I know what you did, I just need to hear you say it." Coyle took a long drag of a cigarette, a smug grin on his face at hearing Danny's half-cry.
"I didn't do anything, I'm nobody...please."
With a deep chuckle, the cop inched closer, heavy boots stomping atop the ground. Danny pulled at his bound hands and feet at hearing the shift in Coyle's position. Coyle got up real close and rested a calloused hand on the chair next to the snitch's head, bringing his mouth adjacent to his ear and whispering in a rough, southern drawl.
"I got ways of making you talk, boy."
The snitch shook his head wildly, body bucking upwards at the pure fear that struck through his heart at Coyle's looming threat. His eyes were squeezed shut behind the bag, sweat dripping from his forehead and chin quivering. Oh god. This was it.
He pleaded out sobs and cries with a head dropped in defeat, voice barely above a mutter as he waited for the sound of crackling to reach his bare chest, lighting up his nerves and cooking him past the point of death.
But that sound never came. Only the shuffle of Coyle's feet echoed in the cell. Danny breathed out hard, cautiously opening his eyes and lifting his head, attempting to earn a glimpse of what the officer was doing. His baton stayed dormant on his hip, attached to a belt that wrapped around his upper thighs.
There was only the tiniest relief from the boy as the smallest amount of fear was replaced by confusion. Why am I not dead yet? Coyle's shadow loomed over him, like a predator about to ravish its' prey. There was silence. Danny was stiff with the fear of moving and prompting Coyle to finally kill him.
He couldn't tell that Coyle's hands were outstretched, drawing near his restrained frame. He couldn't tell what the noise was that screeched out of him. He couldn't tell why he was suddenly laughing and writhing in the chair.
Coyle's hands landed on his bare sides, granting a harsh squeeze to his skin. The snitched jumped, as high as he could with the straps constricting his wrists and ankles, with a noise that rivaled a banshee. His hips bucked as another squeeze sent shocks up his nerves.
"WH-WHAHAT-"
A chuckle could be heard from the officer behind the bag that prohibited him from seeing just what the hell Coyle was doing.
"I told ya' I have my ways, now I gotta hear you scream."
Another yelp was ripped out of the Danny's throat as Coyle's rough hands jumped to his ribs, poking and prodding and tickling him.
"Please-ha! No!"
Whatever he was expecting, it was no where near this. He expected pain; an agonizing burning sensation that spread to all his limbs, the smell of his own skin infiltrating his nose, that bright light fading until eventually there was nothing left but the rot of his body.
Instead, there was a different kind of electric sensation that crept its way up his body. This one didn't make him cry, no; it made him laugh. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or scared, but those thoughts were being drowned out by the feeling of the cop's fingers on his ribs.
Well placed pokes to the divots of his ribs made him jerk at each touch, laughter rolling off his tongue. There was a snicker heard from Coyle, who stared at the snitch with a shit-eating grin.
"How does that feel, boy? Like you wanna confess?"
Danny threw his head back against the wooden chair, shaking it wildly with spews of laughter. "I-I DOHON'T KNOW ANYTHIHING!"
Coyle's hands climbed his upper ribs, fingers landing on both sides and vibrating deeply into his skin. A deafening shriek reverberated throughout the cell, only making Coyle's fingers delve in further and his smirk grow. Metal clinked against the wood as the snitch's hands twisted in their restraints., his gasping laughs only increasing in volume.
"Aw shit," Coyle teased, "look at you writhe."
He was so damn tempted to rip the bag off the snitch's head. To see how badly this was affecting him, the sweat running down his temples and the tears threatening to spill over his face. So the snitch could see his malicious grin, knowing with one leer that he was fucked if he didn't give up the truth soon.
But he wouldn't. However pleasurable that feeling of smugness and pride may be, he wouldn't allow Danny to gain view. To know where the cop was gonna strike next, to attempt to block out any sensations. When one sense is gone, the others are heightened. Coyle wasn't about to let that go.
He was taken out of his rumination by the boy in front of him, being singlehandedly destroyed by titters when Coyle's hands had absentmindedly traveled to his stomach. He lightened his touch, curious of how insane it would drive him. Soft traces of all his fingers drove smoothly over the snitch's quivering skin.
"Plehehease, I-Ihi don't knohow!"
Coyle hummed, bringing his fingers to the snitch's sides and gliding them up and back down repeatedly in tantalizingly slow motions. The snitch whined with little giggles, sucking in deep breaths and trying to worm his sides away. There was little avail though, as Coyle's fingers easily followed.
"I don't think you understand, boy," Coyle tsked, "I know yer' guilty alright. All you gotta do is admit it."
Danny shook his head, hands balling into fists and going white at how the ticklish sensations were making his head spin.
"I tohold yohou-ha!," he jumped with a squeak when Coyle gripped his sides with another harsh squeeze. A quiet snarl could be heard from the cop, who was growing frustrated with all the lies and excuses.
"Oh, Danny," Coyle sighed, creeping his hands up the boy's ribs and stopping right before his underarms, "it's no good to lie to an officer. Yer' just makin' it worse for you."
The snitch stuttered out pleas intermixed with giggles, gradually squirming more as he felt Coyle's hands reach further up his torso.
"Nohoho! C-Coyle, I'm nohohot LYIHIHING!"
Danny was unable to finish his sentence as Coyle's hands shot up into his underarms, thumbs drilling into the deep skin and making him shriek with laughter. His arms clamped to his sides, striving to rid of the maddening sensations and stop Coyle's fingers, hands shaking against the restraints. His head was thrown back again in mirth, the bag over his head hiding his wide smile and reddened face.
"Good lord," Coyle breathed out, "that laugh. Maybe I should just keep doing this past the point of confession."
The snitch shouted, hands splaying out and legs bouncing as Coyle's fingers dug in further. He tried to squeeze his arms against the officer's hands, but it was of no use. Danny arched his back, cackles leaking from behind the cloth over his head, hips threatening to buck off the chair.
"PLEASE! OHO my gohohod!"
Coyle chuckled, continuing with his vile attack on Danny's underarms.
"God ain't gonna save you now. Only the truth from your lips."
Sweat piled in the divots of the snitch's collarbones as what felt like hours passed on. Coyle made no indication of stopping anytime soon, but after Danny started squirming less and his laughter was teetering on the brink of silence, he was concerned he might pass out. Where would the fun be in that?
Reluctantly, he paused his attack, allowing the snitch to greedily suck in deep breaths, chest heaving with sputters spilling from his mouth. Coyle removed his hands from his underarms and placed them on Danny's knees, leaning over to bring his mouth close to his ear again.
"You want to do less screaming I'd suggest you start talking."
His words dripped with sadism, the smell of cigarettes seeping through the bag and making him turn his head away. The snitch groaned, his voice shaking with giggles and nervousness.
"Please," he whined, "I really don't know anything, I swear."
Silence. Silence so deafening it made Danny's ears ring and head spin. His hands gripped the arm rests of the chair, knuckles going white as panic washed over him. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, eyes searching for any light of hope in the dimness of the bag that blinded him.
God. This is really it. No more of whatever the fuck this was. He waited for the awakening crackle of the cop's baton. But it never came.
"C-Coyle?"
Suddenly, there was an extreme feeling on his hips that only intensified as it shot through his entire body. Coyle's hands touched down on the bare skin, squeezing so torturously that it made the snitch's hips buck greater than before, promptly slamming back down right after. Coyle didn't stop though. Several punishing squeezes were given to Danny as he howled, back arching and hips bucking and head spinning.
"You can't talk, but you sure can dance, fucker."
Danny took a deep breath in, going silent for mere seconds before it all rushed out of him. Squeals, cackles, yelps, all dripping out of his mouth in pure hysteria. If the chair wasn't bolted down, there was a chance his writhing would've tipped it over. His whole body shook, limbs making the straps rattle as they tried its best to hold him down.
Coyle smirked and let out a deep chuckle, though it couldn't be heard over the sound of Danny's shrieking. A rough hand dipped lower and landed on one of the snitch's knees, giving harsh pinches to the top of his jeans. The officer was taken aback by the ear-piercing scream that emitted from his victim, but he made no point in ceasing his squeezes.
"F-FUCK! OKAY, I DID IT. I'M GUILTY, P-PLEHEASE!"
Hell, he wasn't even sure what he was admitting to. But he'd say anything if it finally got Coyle to stop.
The snitch jerked in his bonds, legs shaking and failing to rid of the ticklish feeling shooting up his thighs. The combined sensation on his hip and knee drew him mad, nearing the point of exhaustion. Sadism clouded over in Coyle's mind, there was no chance of him stopping anytime soon. Even when Danny's laughs turned silent again and he completely stopped squirming, Coyle was too focused on his attack to notice.
It wasn't until the sound of the security room window being opened that broke Coyle out of his thoughts. He snapped his head up with a deep scowl and a growl, immediately taking his hands off the snitch and standing up. Danny gasped with a heaving chest, involuntary twitches striking his nerves. His head dropped in exhaustion as he mumbled out incoherent babbles.
There was a shuffle of Coyle's heavy footing lingering behind him.
"You."
Danny's head slowly lifted up. He halfway listened to Coyle's shouts of rage and the crackling of his shock baton, too out of it to focus on what was happening outside the jail cell.
From Coyle's incessant yelling and sudden furious demeanor, he figured someone must be out there. The tiniest of a hopeful smile crossed his face.
Was someone there? Had a saving grace come for him? Would he finally be free?