#there's no exit wound and it seems like the victim was shot in the mouth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuckingstrange · 5 months

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| Day19: stay awake |

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WARNINGS: Reader gets shot (gsw to neck), near-death experience, bleeding (no shit?)

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WORDS: 1,434

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PAIRING: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

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Ignore the fact that I'm literally procrastinating in making a Pt.2 to the Diana Reid fic..

Next fic gonna be based off that gif bc oh LAWD.

An Unsub stands in front of you, gun against your neck, the barrel cold against your skin. You don't back down, Reids words of warning threats to the Unsub going unheard.

“You fucking pussy.” You spit, the Unsub's face filling with anger as he presses the gun more against your neck, shouting “What the fuck did you just say!?”. You keep a blank stare, showing no signs of fear. “I called you a pussy. What, are you suddenly deaf? Being deaf would make it hard to hear the terrified screams of your victims that you love so much.” You taunt, the Unsub only growing more angry, trembling in pure rage.

Your words seem to be the last string, because there's suddenly a gunshot sounding throughout the room. You drop to the floor just as you hear a second one, Reid having shot the Unsub. Your head smacks against the floor, vision blurring as blood squirts from your neck. Reid is on his knees next to you, without thinking, using both hands to squeeze over the wound as tight as he can.

The bullet luckily only went through the side rather than center of your throat due to the Unsub’s rageful trembling, the clean enter/exit wound getting covered by each of Reids cold hands. He squeezes hard, a whine sounding from your throat when it nearly cuts off your oxygen.

He adjusts his grip, trying to make it so you can breathe better, but it doesn't help much considering blood is slowly rising in your throat. Panic sets in, you smack the cold concrete floor, trying to get Reid’s attention.

He hears your palm smacking against the floor, glancing over at your hand before looking at his own around your neck. Blood spills on the floor beneath your head, crawling into your hair and soaking into the fabric of his pants over his knees.

You whimper fearfully when the room seems like it's beginning to dim, smacking harder as it gets harder to breathe from the panic and blood rising in your throat. Reid’s eyes widen and he leans closer to you, whispering, “Hey, hey, you're okay. That's it. There you go, Flail, whine, cry, do anything you need to, just stay awake.”

You try to respond, though only end up coughing up blood. He loses any bit of fear of the biohazard that is being covered in your blood, instead pulling your head into his lap and keeping his palms digging into the wound from front to back. “It's okay, it's okay. Don't be scared, it's just a little blood. Cough it out, let it out.” He says frantically, much rather wanting you to get the blood out of your mouth than choke on it.

He looks around, wondering where the fuck everybody is, if anybody even heard the shot, because to him it was loud as can be when it went off. He swears that he can still hear it ringing in his ears. He glances over at the Unsub's now lifeless body, not feeling an ounce of remorse for him since he's the reason you're nearly dying in his lap.

His attention is pulled back to you when you reach up and begin smacking him on the leg, your whimpers beginning to get weaker and weaker as you try to alert him that you can feel yourself leaving. His heart sinks as he squeezes tighter, though all it ends up doing is making it harder for you to breathe.

It stops the blood, though. So he takes this as a chance to try and drag you the few feet out into the open, your nearly lifeless body being pulled out into the snow. You can faintly hear him start screaming for the team, and within seconds there's sirens all around. You black out for a minute, waking to see Hotch and Morgan stand over you, lifting you from the snow and pulling you towards an ambulance that showed up at some point.

You keep going in and out, and each time your eyes open, you see Reid right there with you, feel his hands in your hair, a gentle grip to try and soothe you as the paramedics bandage you up and try to keep you awake for longer each time.

You pass out a few more times throughout the five minute ride, once waking to the paramedic when they stick an IV needle in your arm, once waking up when Reid kisses your forehead, once waking when they're pulling you from the ambulance and wheeling you inside.

The next few days seem to blur together, you're basically left alone in a hospital room after your surgery, labeled as “too unstable” to have any visitors just yet. A nurse wakes you up by changing the bandages on your neck every few hours, over the next few days she has to change them less and less because of how it's healing, getting down to twice a day.

Once people are finally allowed to visit you, it's only two people at a time. First Hotch and Morgan came to visit you, spending an hour with you before heading out. Next you saw Garcia and JJ, each spending at least three hours just hugging you and making sure the nurse is treating you gently during bandage changes. You expected to see Reid that day, but he was nowhere.

The next day, fourth day rolls around, and you wake up to a knock on the room door. A doctor walks in, followed by your doctor, Reid. Your eyes immediately light up when you see him, arms flying open in hopes of a hug, to which he gladly accepts. He kisses your cheek, giving you a gentle squeeze while whispering, “Told you that you'd be okay.”. You just smile and pull him in for an actual kiss, hearing the doctor chuckle and comment on your eagerness.

Reid pulls back, taking a seat next to you and letting his hand rest on your thigh. You each look over at the doctor when he starts to explain how to care for your wounds, and you give him a slightly confused look. Then, it clicks. “I'm going home!” You exclaim happily, voice still hoarse from the lack of talking during your recovery. “Yeah, you've been here nearly a week and are healing up nicely, so we're letting you head out a bit early.” The doctor says with a smile, passing you the discharge papers, chuckling when you sign it as quickly as possible.

The doctor clears up a few more things, demonstrating to Reid and you how to change the bandaging and giving him a list on the things you should avoid to finish recovering smoothly. Like having to yell, eating foods you need to chew a lot, no pressure around the wound, can't move your neck too much, etc. He takes the papers and bids you good luck on your at-home recovery, exiting the room so you can get ready to leave.

Reid helps you get out of the hospital gown and into the clothes he had brought you, kissing you wherever he can besides your neck as he tells you how much he missed you during the four days he couldn't see you, also scolding you on your bold choice of words that nearly got you killed in the hands of the Unsub.

Reid slips on your shoes for you, pointing out that he's not gonna let you even lift a finger during your recovery. “I may have gotten shot in the neck, but that doesn't mean my hands are affected.” You groan, giving him a playful nudge. “Don't care, I'm still gonna take care of you. Now, come on. Let's go home.” He grabs a hold of your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours and pulling you out of the hospital room, eventually out of the hospital into the cold, snow-covered parking lot.

He gets you into the car, and before you can even fight back or do it yourself, he buckles you in. You smile at him, deciding to not argue with him on taking care of you, instead thanking him and giving him a quick kiss. He smiles back and makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting the door, running around and hopping into the driver side. He throws it into drive and backs out of the parking space, leaving so quick you might as well think he's running from somebody. When, really, he's just eager to get you home where he can cuddle you and treat you like royalty.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #hotboxed x-mas ficlist #comfort #I lobe gore #this has none (i think)#woohoo #yippee yippee yippee

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wp-blaze · 3 days

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Surviving Parent Hood

Nobody talks about the pain you feel inside when the love your child has for you dies When they look at your hard work & aren’t satisfied When nothing you do for them is right No matter how hard you try You can see the distaste for you in their eyes When you thought y’all were […]

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lestvt · 1 year

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"Night Island Sacrament" >> Ch. 11 *TEASER*

AN: i've been sitting on a half-written chapter 11 for a while now, and its literally over 15,000 words. so, since i still have little to no time/motivation to write, and because it's been over a year since chapter 10 was posted, i've been debating with myself about putting out a teaser over the last few months... ultimately, the only reason i didn't post one sooner was because as an author it felt wrong for me to share any part of the ending before it was actually finished in my eyes. but its been so long now that i decided to just say fuck it and put my arbitrary preferences aside... y'all have earned this lol hope you enjoy!~ xoxo

Excerpt from Ch. 11: "Rinse, Repeat"

“Do you remember the first time I saw someone shoot you?”

Lestat halted in his search for a victim to look at me. “Of course,” he said, sounding just a bit cautious of his answer.

“He was a soldier,” I recalled. “You chose him because you liked his cleanliness and the way his uniform was fitted to his shoulders. I hung back when you approached him; I’d warned you that it was a bad idea, and I was right. He must’ve been the superstitious type, because as soon as he turned and saw the hunger in your eyes, he shot you square in the chest. It came out the other side.”

“You tell the story like I wasn’t there.” Lestat couldn’t hold back his self-satisfied smirk. “I barely flinched.”

“But you did, and I shouted your name without thinking. It drew the man’s attention to me. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but then you threw yourself at him, and he cursed at you instead.”

“He had no flavor,” quipped Lestat. “And he ruined my favorite coat. Such a waste. I made sure his death was painful.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you said when it was over. There was a gaping, gory hole in your chest, and you were ranting about how you would explain it to the tailor, as if you’d done something terribly embarrassing rather than a cold-hearted murder.”

A laugh. “What made you think of that?” he wondered, expression trapped somewhere between amused and uncertain. Then, as an afterthought, “You could hardly bear to look at me for the rest of the night.”

“I was trying not to think about the wound.” What I didn’t mention was that when he turned his back, I was unable to tear my eyes away from where it had exited his body.

“So sensitive... Were you worried?” he teased.

I shook my head. “I knew it would heal through the day. Still, it seemed so… wrong. The human in me was screaming that it was unnatural, that you should be lying down dead. When we returned home, Claudia took one look at my face and broke out in hysterics.”

Lestat hummed thoughtfully and peered into the distance ahead of us for a while.

“Well, you’re wrong about one thing,” he muttered, uncharacteristically subdued.

“What's that?”

“I didn’t flinch because of the bullet. It was hardly the first time I’d been shot.” He paused, exhaling through his nose. “I flinched because you cried out for me.”

I stared at him, unable to find the words to respond.

We continued to walk like that for some time, quiet, not necessarily uncomfortably so, but not easy either.

Eventually we wound up by the pier; it was a week night and late enough now that most sensible people were at home in bed. A few harrowed souls remained however, inhabiting the man-made island as though it was their natural habitat. I suppose it was in a way.

Lestat took an abnormally long time to choose our victims that night. More than once he seemed to have made up his mind on some handsome older man or rich mistress, but right when I expected him to make his move, his gaze would shift away, as if he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Until at last we came upon a young man smoking outside a bar, completely average in appearance and dress. For him, Lestat did not hesitate.

The alleyway we took him to would not have been my first choice, but along with my sense of shame, it vanished around me as soon as my fangs were in his artery. Distantly I was aware of Lestat caressing my hair and whispering to me in a low tone, but I could not focus for long on anything other than the pure contentment of blood searing its way down my throat and a great sense of relief.

At some point the whispering stopped, and as I pulled back slightly I realized Lestat had begun to drink alongside me, practically cheek to cheek. His proximity only served to enhance the sensation.

We shared three lives that way, all unremarkable, unmemorable, except for in what they provided for us. Eventually, in the middle of taking our third victim’s life, it dawned on me that Lestat was choosing them precisely for their blandness, so that their true use as catalysts was ever more apparent in contrast. And as that final life drained away beneath my tongue, I found I was not wrought with guilt, but with a burning sort of gratitude.

Only when he released me did I realize Lestat had been gripping my arm, fingers so tight they might’ve bruised me, had I been mortal. As it were, it served as an anchor. When he pulled away and I watched him dispose of the evidence of our assault, the truth of it fully struck me. It seemed as though if he did not come back soon, I would float away.

But I didn’t. I remained where I was, with my feet planted firmly on the wet, gritty concrete.

Then at last he returned to me and, hand-in-hand, we began in the direction of home. The walk was silent, same as before, but as soon as we made it to the beach, Lestat wrapped his arms around me and took to the sky once more. I held onto him just as tightly as he'd held me, both from fear and desperation, neither of which were related to height.

We landed on the roof of the coven apartment all too soon after, using the access door there to descend the sterile white and gray stairs to the floor which held our separate rooms. As we approached mine, Lestat swung the door aside using only his mind. At the same time he maneuvered me with his hands to face him.

I gave him a curious look.

He leered back. “Do you have something you want to say?” When I didn’t immediately respond, he pressed on. “That’s your problem, Louis,” he scolded, though it came out as a joke. “You have all the right questions, but none of the confidence to ask them.”

“Or none of the confidence to ask you,” I countered.

Lestat simply chuckled at this. He leaned in and kissed my cheeks, then my nose and forehead, and finally he gave me a gentle shove into my apartment. I scowled at him, but allowed it nonetheless, still too wary to speak against him.

“Be good.”

So he ordered, but as the door clicked shut and locked at his will, something dark and lacquered in guilt bubbled up inside of me: thick, pulsating, pungent disappointment. Just as quickly I wanted to swing it back aside, to throw myself into the hall, screaming. Instead I simply walked to my room and laid down in my bed, certain he’d done this to me on purpose.

With Lestat just next door, I suddenly longed for my hideaway more than ever. Beneath the blanket, I felt uniquely cold, bereft. Even with the heavy curtains still drawn from days before, I was exposed.

To put it bluntly, I felt rejected.

He was right there. And he wanted me, clearly, but for some reason he didn’t want me. And none of it made sense. Had I done something wrong? I was as compliant as I’d ever been tonight. So, why wasn’t he taking what we both so obviously craved? Surely he didn’t expect me to initiate.

But he was waiting for something, that much was frustratingly clear. Otherwise the day would not have come for me so soon…

#the vampire chronicles #loustat #writing update #my writing #jj says #EDIT; whoops i put the title of chapter 10... lemme just fix that shit real quick yikes

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isthisthingeven0n · 3 years

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darkest truths : s.r

returning from his time in prison, spencer joins you and the team on a mission that takes a darker turn than you could’ve imagined. (2k)

darkest truths / brightest lies

all my links

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everyone was a tad nervous for Spencer to return, yet despite the team's anticipation to watch him walk through the glass doors to the bullpen, a few kept a close eye on you.

“Todays the day, huh?” Penelope nudges you, snapping you from your deep thought about the situation in hand.

Spinning in your chair, you hum in response. “Yeah, today is the big day.” You laugh lightly, but Penelope as always can see straight through you.

Tutting under her breath, she perches herself on the edge of your desk. “What is it? You didn’t have a fight or something last night?” Penelope asks, but you shake your head.

“No, we, we’re good, I promise you.” You reach out, resting your hand on her arm as you listen to a long sigh of relief from Penelope. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, but nothing I can’t handle.” You assure her, wanting to move the topic onward.

“Thank the heavens for that,” She rises to her feet happily. “I can’t have my forbidden lovers at a loss.” Penelope dramatically claims before a gasp sounds from her.

Leaning back, you catch sight of the reason for her gasp; Doctor Spencer Reid returning to the bullpen, something no one thought was a possibility for a short while.

“You’re back!” Penelope yells as she rushes over, enveloping Spencer into a tight hug.

Spencer hugs Penelope back, patting her back as he looks over at you with a small smile. You knew he was nervous about returning, he’d been up half the night talking to you over the phone as he rearranged his book collection for the twelfth time.

Quickly, everyone welcomed Spencer back with open arms. JJ was the last to greet him, having a quiet word before glancing over to you. “Don’t leave her waiting any longer, Spence.” JJ mutters to Spencer, patting his arm as she smiles your way.

Rising to your feet, Spencer hovers in front of you. “Welcome back, Doctor Reid.” You chuckle, even after all these years, some things never do change.

“It’s good to be back, Y/l/n.” He tells you, his hand reaching out for yours as he squeezes it lightly. “Thank you for last night, and staying on the phone.” Spencer mutters, feeling you squeeze his hand back for a moment.

“Anytime, Spence. You know that.” You whisper back, hugging him briefly just as Emily emerges from her office.

“I hate to say it now, but we’ve got a case.” She announces, and you all quickly file into the conference room.

Taking your seats, Spencer sits beside you as Penelope places all your files down. “Can’t say this is the warm welcome I expected to be giving to the good Doctor himself but seems serial killers refuse to take a day off.” Penelope states as she picks up her remote.

Shuffling forward in your seat, you watch closely, oblivious to Spencer glancing out of the corner of his eye. Yet, despite your lack of knowledge, Rossi could see it clearly. Spencer could barely take his eyes off of you, admiring the concentration as your brows furrow together, the determination and focus in your gaze as you listen intently to Penelope. Truth be told, Spencer missed it, more than he allows to let on.

“Today you’ll be heading to Beavercreek, Ohio. Within the past week, there have been three separate homicides. All three victims have yet to be identified and were found with eight gunshot wounds, one of which in the head, killing them.” Penelope shudders as you all look through the case files.

“Shot execution-style, efficient.” You comment, looking at the photos of the two male victims found on the outskirts of town, dumped with their ankles and wrists bound.

“Do we have any leads?” Tara asks, and Emily steps in.

“Since we have yet to identify our John and Jane Does, we’re going based on missing person reports within the past twelve months. These victims were all taken and killed recently, so our unsub isn’t keeping them long. Wheels up in thirty.” Emily explains. “Oh, Y/n, mind if I have a word?” She asks, exiting the room as she heads to her office.

“Someones in trouble.” Luke jokes as you roll your eyes, but Spencer glances over as a look of concern crosses his expression.

“It’s fine, Spence.” You assure him. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind.” You smile to him as he exits the conference room with JJ whilst you make your way over to Emily’s office.

“I know this is Spencer’s first day back, but I wanted to ask how you are.” Emily states as she gathers her things whilst you hover in the doorway.

Smiling softly, you nod. “I, I’m good.” You tell her, but Emily raises a brow, clearly unconvinced. “I promise, Em. I’m doing fine.”

“Okay,” She sighs, walking toward you. “but if there’s any change, you have to let me know, alright?”

“You got it, boss.” You salute to her as you both exit her office, catching up with the rest of the team as you enter the elevator.

Standing in the ME’s office, the sight before you made your stomach churn.

Usually, these sort of sights never had an effect on you, but something this time is different.

“Hey, you okay in there?” JJ asks, resting her hand on your arm as you snap from your daze as you stare at the bullet hole in the centre of the forehead, wishing that it was the only bullet hole on the John Doe.

“Sorry,” You mumble. “lost in thought for a second.” You clear your throat, stepping closer to the John Doe as you bend over, taking a closer look at the bruising on the wrists from the ropes. “So these victims were tied up, restrained and then shot seven times in the torso and once in the head?”

JJ walks over with the ME’s report in hand. “Actually,” JJ trails off and you stand up now, looking at her as her brows furrow. “it says seven shots were fired post mortem.”

“Why would the unsub shoot seven times after their victim was already dead? Seems like severe overkill.” You reason, and JJ hums. “Sometimes not adding up, we better let the others know.”

“Hold on,” JJ pauses, reading further into the report. “it says there’s something on each victim's mastoids.”

Turning around, you walk over and glance down. “It’s the letter T.” You tell JJ as she bends down beside you, taking a look for herself. “Could it be a signature?”

“I’m not sure.” She states. “Let me get the report for our first Jane Doe, see if there’s anything different for hers.”

As JJ exits the room, you exhale deeply and take a seat. “It’s fine, Y/n.” You tell yourself as you rest your hands against the cool metal cabinet behind you as you try to recompose yourself.

“Y/n,” JJ calls out. “we gotta talk to the team, look.”

Passing you the file, you sigh at the sight of what is on the Jane Doe’s ear.

“T & D?” You speak up, and JJ nods. “Let’s go.”

“Truth or Dare.” Spencer states as he stands in front of the boards. “Our unsub is playing truth or dare with our Jane and John Does. Answer truthfully, avoid being shot. Lie, and well.” He trails off as he motions to the pictures behind him.

“Any update on who our Does might be?” JJ asks as Penelope remains connected and the sound of her typing echoes through the line.

“I’ve found a potential match for our Jane Doe. Lucia Hanes, 24, went missing six months ago. On her way home from work but never arrived, reported missing since and never found.” Penelope explains.

“Garcia, can you-”

“I’ve sent you her families details to your tablets.” Penelope finishes before Emily could even ask.

Chuckling to yourself, you open your tablet, looking at the information. “Thanks, Pen.” You call out as you all split up, you and Luke heading to Lucia’s mother's house.

“So, how does it feel?” Luke asks as you pull up outside Marie Jakings house.

“How does what feel?” You question as you walk up the driveway, Luke behind you.

“Having Reid back?” He nudges you playfully. “Come on, he’s your guy, or whatever you two call it.”

Rolling your eyes, you knock on Marie’s door. “He’s my boyfriend, technically.” You comment, knowing Spencer has spent more time in jail than you have officially dating. “But my best friend first and foremost.” You add as the door opens.

“Hello?” Marie answers, crossing her arms as she looks between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings?” Luke asks as he holds his badge out. “I’m Agent Alvez and this is Agent Y/L/N. We’re here regarding the disappearance of your daughter, Lucia Hanes.”

Marie’s hand rises as she covers her mouth, muffling a sob. “Ms Jakings, I understand this has been hard for you, but we’re only asking for a few minutes if that’s alright?” Your voice softens as Marie straightens up and stifles her sob, allowing you both inside.

Sitting in her living room, you can’t help but notice the pictures of Lucia covering the mantelpiece and as you blink, you can’t help but vision Lucia lying on that metal table, lifeless.

“Thank you for your time, Ms Jakings,” Luke speaks up as Marie sits opposite you, her hands shaking as she picks up her mug of coffee.

“Do you have kids?” She questions, looking between you both.

“I, no.” You stumble over your words as she simply nods.

“So you have no idea how hard this is? Your daughter goes to work and never comes home, and has potentially been a victim of, of a serial killer?” Marie’s voice cracks as tears fall from her eyes.

“Ms Jakings, I’m sorry, I truly am. But right now, we’re just trying to find any connection between your daughter and our unsub.” Luke explains, leaning forward whilst you swallow the vomit rising in your throat. “Was there anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt Lucia? Or had a problem with her?”

Marie hums to herself for a moment before glancing towards you. “No, she, she was a kind person. She studied hard, she was saving up to go travelling. I, I’ve never had an issue with her.” Marie states. “But, there was this incident in High School,” Marie mutters.

“An incident?” You ask. “What, what sort of incident?”

“Well, Lucia and her classmates took part in an online game. She told me it was something everyone was doing all around town.” Marie glances over to the framed photo of Lucia and herself on Lucia’s graduation. “I didn’t think much of it, none of the parents did.”

“What game was this?” Luke speaks up, now taking his phone out to record the conversation between the three of you.

“Truth or dare.” Marie tells you both, noticing the look shared between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings, I think it’s best if we bring you into the station, for your own safety and we can continue the conversation there.” You explain as you rise to your feet, Marie complying.

“I’ll call Garcia, have her check into the history of this game in the school.” Luke comments as you walk out to the SUV with Marie.

As you all sit in the SUV, Luke pulls away whilst you sit in the back with Marie. “It’s to do with that game, isn’t it?” Marie asks, her voice shaking now as you remain silent. “I knew it would catch up with them.” She mutters.

“Ms Jakings, what do you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Luke yells as a force collides with the car. Immediately you’re knocked to the side, slamming your head against the window as you faintly hear Luke calling your name until everything becomes black.

PART TWO

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iamwhoami · 3 years

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You Found Me (Chicago PD)

Chicago PD

Hailey Upton knows that her job is dangerous but never did she think that it could become dangerous for her girlfriend Y/N. Or at least she never hoped it would.

Warnings: Blood...kidnapping, all that jazz

Requested = Yes

The request asked for this to be long but I'm not exactly sure what constitutes as long so I'm just going to drag this on until I can't.

Obviously, you knew what Hailey's job was. You knew it was dangerous but the risk of Hailey's wellbeing and constantly having to worry about her when she went to work was easily outweighed by the pros of dating her.

It was Hailey Upton after all.

"Be safe okay," You whispered before pecking Hailey on her cheek on her way out.

"You too," Hailey replied and you chuckled.

"Please, I'm a doctor, what's the worst that could happen," You smiled.

Hailey raised an eyebrow, "Don't jinx yourself."

You only shook your head in response, giving Hailey another kiss on the lips on her way out the door.

"I love you," You called and grinned as you leaned your head against the frame of the door, watching Hailey walk down the hall.

~~~

"Y/N, there's a patient in four waiting," Maggie told you the moment you walked into the ED.

"I'll be there in a moment," You replied as you fumbled through your bag, "I think I left my hospital ID in my car."

Maggie only shot you a look, "Be quick about it."

You had all intentions of being quick. It was a trip to the car, a grab from the glove department, a trip back to the ED.

That was it.

Or at least, that was all that it was supposed to be.

You felt something was wrong the moment you stepped foot out of the ED but you told yourself that you were just being paranoid. Hailey tried to keep her work as separate as possible from you but that didn't mean that you were completely oblivious to some of her cases.

You told yourself that the gruesome details of Hailey's cases were just playing with your mind and kept walking.

You should have trusted your instincts though. You should have listened to the tiny voice in your head (the one that sounded a lot like Hailey) and just turned around and head back to the

But you didn't, and you were going to regret it.

The last thing you remembered was reaching in through the passenger door to open the glove box when you felt a heavy blow to the back of your head.

Then nothing.

~~~

Maggie furrowed her eyebrows when the patient that you were supposed to be seeing complained about how long she had been waiting for a doctor.

"Hey...Nat," Maggie handed the tablet over, "Y/N was supposed to cover this one once she got her ID but the patient's still waiting. You haven't seen her have you?"

Natalie shook her head, "No, I haven't. Sorry..."

Maggie only nodded while Dr. Manning went into the room. Something wasn't right. You weren't one to just completely forget about a patient. If anything, you were the opposite.

Slightly worried, Maggie decided to check where you usually parked the car. Leaving Doris in charge of the ED for the few minutes that she would be gone, Maggie hurried out to the parking lot.

She was confused when she saw that your parking space was empty. You always parked there. Everyone at the hospital knew that it was your spot.

Completely bewildered, Maggie walked closer to the parking spot, her eyes going wide when she saw something on the pavement.

Blood.

~~~

You groaned as you slowly came back to consciousness. Your head hurt like hell but when you tried to reach up to touch it, you realized that your wrists were actually bound together.

As your vision cleared, you noticed just how dark your surroundings were and immediately jumped to the conclusion that you were in a warehouse.

Sure, you totally could have been somewhere else but it seemed like all of the victims who were held captive in Hailey's cases were kept in a warehouse sort of building.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the dire circumstances. Someone would have noticed that you didn't return to the hospital and the police would find you soon.

And if it was Hailey and Intelligence looking for you, then you would be back in Hailey's arms in no time.

That's what you kept telling yourself.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could begin to make out details of your captivity.

Your hands were bound behind your back but your ankles weren't tied whatsoever. You knew better than to struggle against your restraints but you couldn't help but try anyways, sighing when you only ended up tightening them.

Surprisingly, you were alone and so you took the chance to stumble onto your feet as best as you could without the use of your arms and scout out the area.

Maybe your kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you an exit.

Your heart racing, you let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that panic wasn't going to help and began walking around the perimeter of the space.

~~~

"Don't even think about taking me off the case," Hailey deadpanned the moment the door to Voight's office closed.

"You really think it's a good idea for you to be working right now?" Voight raised an eyebrow, "Y/N is your girlfriend!"

Hailey pursed her lips, "I'm aware of that."

"Hailey..." Voight's voice was strangely gentle.

"No," Hailey shook her head stubbornly, "I'm not going to just sit around and wait for someone to bring Y/N back to me and every moment you waste trying to talk me out of this is time wasted on Y/N."

Voight and Hailey both knew that if Voight did bench her, she was still going to search for you, even if it meant going against her sergeant's orders.

"Fine," Voight gruffly agreed, "Go help Halstead go through your past cases. Anyone who might use Y/N as revenge on you."

Hailey gave a short nod and without another word, left the office.

Truthfully, she hadn't processed anything whatsoever, but you were out there somewhere, definitely hurt and that's all that she needed to know.

Of course, she was worried. Worried was an understatement, and once in a while, she'd catch herself thinking about the worst outcomes but stop before it got too far.

She had to stay focused on the task at hand which was to bring you home to her.

This was not the moment to break down.

~~~

You walked loop after loop around the space until your head couldn't take it anymore and you crumbled to the ground.

While walking, you had noticed a steel door but there was no way you were getting through it. Especially not with your hands tied.

Lying on the cold concrete floor, you couldn't help but start to think of worst-case scenarios. What if they never found you? What if you died before they got here? What if you never saw Hailey again?

Your thoughts were interrupted though by the sound of footsteps echoing towards the door.

You felt your heart drop and your entire body tense. Was this your kidnapper?

The door suddenly swung open and revealed two men, one significantly taller than the other.

"Well...looks like our doctor here has a little boo-boo," The shorter one snickered at your limp body sprawled on the ground.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you would regret later.

"I can see why the detective fell in love with her," The taller one joined in, a smirk on his face, "She's quite the catch."

The two men had both crouched down in front of you now and you couldn't help but spit out a remark.

"Fuck off."

"Oh, would you look at that," The tall man smiled sickly, "She's feisty too...just like our detective friend..."

A sudden rush of panic flowed through you as you came up with the theory that they had Hailey too.

"Oh don't worry about her," The shorter man caressed your cheek, making you flinch slightly, "It's much more fun watching her spiral from afar...speaking of fun...I think it's about time we made a call."

Before you could say anything else, the two men got up and left the room and you let out a breath. Besides your head wound, you were uninjured so far and if they were calling Hailey, then it would just give them more clues to who the men were and where you were.

Despite the fear coursing through your veins, you still tried to stay positive and so you just kept telling yourself that you would be out of here in no time.

~~~

Hailey's heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she answered her phone.

"Hello detective," A cold voice reached her ear.

Immediately, Hailey flagged the attention of the rest of Intelligence and put the call on speaker.

"You might have already found out that your girlfriend is gone..." The voice droned, "Such a shame, hopefully, she didn't leave you for another woman..."

"You better not hurt her," Hailey clenched her jaw, her stomach churning as she listened to the man's voice come through the phone.

The man laughed, "Who said I took her?"

"We're going to find her," Hailey said, "And we're going to find you."

"Don't be so confident about that," The man was clearly enjoying playing Hailey like this, "Let me loop you in detective, it isn't so fun to have someone take your loved one away from you is it?"

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but the call had already disconnected.

"I think I got something," Jay called out and held up a case folder, "We put a Jameson Greene away a few weeks ago. He's doing hard time and he has two brothers who he lived with...that could be what the caller was referring to when he talked about losing someone you love."

"Hey, look at this," Kim pointed to her screen, "I pulled up street cams and managed to catch Y/N's car...we lose it after a few streets but it is going into the area that Greene lived in with his brothers. Plus, there's plenty of old warehouses around that place."

Everyone turned to look at Voight who gave a nod.

"Suit up," He said and turned around, "I want Patrol on this as well. I want everyone looking for Y/N."

~~~

"Your detective sounded pretty sure that she was going to find you," The man stroked your hair and you wanted to puke with each touch.

"That's because she will," You managed to croak out. While you only had a head injury, it was still a head injury that also hadn't stopped bleeding and on top of that, you desperately needed water.

You needed Hailey.

"You sure about that sweetheart?" The sarcasm dripped in his voice and you fought the urge to spit in his face.

"Well, I know she isn't going to stop until she does so yes," You said through gritted teeth, "She will find me."

A smirk formed on the man's face, "We'll just have to wait and see won't we, princess?"

~~~

Everyone on the team could see that Hailey was beginning to spiral. After countless door-to-door and dead-end leads, they still hadn't found you and that was taking a toll on Hailey.

"Hey," Jay stopped her before they hit the next house, "You okay?"

"I'll feel better once we find Y/N," Hailey said through gritted teeth and pushed past Jay, continuing to walk.

Jay stepped in front of Hailey, "Look, maybe you should go home...take a breather."

"Absolutely not!" Hailey narrowed her eyes, "I'm not going home until I can bring her home with me."

Jay opened his mouth to press back but was interrupted by Atwater's voice calling out.

"We got something!"

~~~

It was beginning to become harder and harder to keep your eyes open and while you were a doctor, it didn't take a doctor to understand that this wasn't a good sign.

"If your detective girlfriend doesn't come soon I'm going to have to call her again," The man snickered, "Maybe I'll have to be more specific...I'll tell her to bring wine too."

You didn't have enough strength to find a comeback as you laid on the ground, your wrists still bound together.

"Princess..." The man's voice broke through your pain, "You better keep your eyes open princess."

"Don't call me that," You breathed out, wincing at how your head throbbed with each word.

The man hummed, "What should I call you then? Would you prefer darling?"

"Chicago PD!"

In an instant, the door flung open and you were suddenly yanked up onto your feet. Despite your semi-conscious state and fuzzy vision, you could still make out the members of Intelligence rushing towards you.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were struggling to say upright long enough for someone to get you away from your captor and the next you could see the wall speeding towards you.

You felt the side of your head smash into a hard surface but before you could register any pain, everything fell black.

~~~

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing that you felt was the pounding coming from your head. As your vision cleared though, you realized that you were in a hospital room.

You had been in hospital rooms plenty of times but it didn't take very long for you to notice that you were in this room as a doctor.

"Hey...you're awake."

You didn't need to see who the voice came from to know that it was Hailey. Slowly, you turned your head and were immediately met with those blue eyes.

"You look like hell," You hoarsely croaked out.

"Right back at you," Hailey tried to keep her tone teasing but you could tell that she was holding back a lot.

You spread your arms, "Come here."

Hailey took your offer immediately, melting into your embrace.

"I'm okay," You whispered, "See, I'm okay."

"I know..." Hailey mumbled into your neck, "I know you are. I know the doctors said you were going to be fine I just-"

A sob interrupted Hailey and she buried her face deeper into your neck while you rubbed her back soothingly.

"I told those men that you would find me," You smiled, "See...I'm right as always."

Hailey let out a watery laugh and sat back up so that she could see your face.

"I'm okay Hailey," You lowered your voice, "You found me...everything is going to be okay."

"You were the one kidnapped," Hailey shook her head, "I should be comforting you."

You reached out to take Hailey's hand, "Well, there's plenty time for that too..."

"I was so worried," Hailey rubbed her eyes, "I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if we didn't find you."

"Hey...hey, look at me," You squeezed Hailey's hand, "That didn't happen. You did find me and I'm okay and we're going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

Hailey nodded, "I know...it's just..."

"It's just what?" You asked softly.

"I...I couldn't remember if I had told you that I loved you back this morning when I left," Hailey bit her lip, "What if we didn't find you? What was the last thing I told you?"

You breathed out, "Hailey...you don't have to worry about that. You found me. I know you love me. We're okay..."

"I-"

"Hailey," You cupped your hands on either side of her face, "Everything's okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

#chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #hailey upton #hailey upton x female reader #hailey upton imagines #hailey upton x reader #hailey upton imagine

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years

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Heart of a Hero

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Tommy Vega, Nancy Gillian, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes

Rating: T

Warnings: Mass shooting incident

Notes: A million thanks as always to @bluenet13 who beta read the heck out of this and listens to all my writing woes.

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo prompt “Ambulance Ride.”

Read on Ao3

It was his day off. It was his goddamn day off. But apparently crime didn’t take days off or respect the fact that he was just trying to run errands like a normal human being. Something that should have been a safe activity for everyone. Not a terrifying, violent event.

Carlos had been in the vegetable aisle when he’d heard the distinctive popping of gunfire. He’d dropped the mango in his hands, instinctively reaching for his duty weapon, despite the fact that he didn’t carry it on his days off. It had taken him only seconds to assess the situation, to realize the shots were coming from outside the store rather than inside, and to start running toward them. “Get to the back of the store!” he yelled to panicked customers and staff as he moved past them toward the doors. “Find somewhere to lock yourselves in and call 911!”

He stopped momentarily to help up a woman who had fallen to the ground, pushing her in the direction everyone else was fleeing as another round of shots sounded and the glass windows at the front of the shop shattered, causing everyone nearby to scream in terror.

Carlos paused at the front doors, trying to assess where the shots were coming from before exiting to the sidewalk outside. He could see people running, what looked like a body on the ground, but no sign of the shooter. Or shooters. There had been an awful lot of gunfire for it to be only one person.

There was a flash and more popping and Carlos caught a glimpse of someone in a black or dark blue hoodie running toward the building before ducking behind a mailbox for cover.

Running out into an active shooter situation unarmed seemed incredibly stupid, but there were still a lot of bystanders around and Carlos needed to do what he could to stop further casualties.

He crouched low, pulling the door open just enough to let himself out and moved quickly toward the fallen person on the sidewalk. The man let out a groan as Carlos got close and he felt a brief wave of relief that the man was alive. “Help me,” he said, breathing hard, eyes wild with fright.

“I’ve got you,” Carlos said, looking up and around for either shooter, but they seemed to have disappeared for the moment. “What’s your name?”

“Danny,” the man said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Danny where are you hurt?”

“My leg,” he said, in obvious pain. “I was running and I tripped. I think I broke my ankle.”

Another wave of relief. Broken ankles were an easy fix compared to gunshot wounds. “We need to get you somewhere safe,” Carlos said. “I want you to put your arm around my shoulders, I’m going to help you get behind that table over there. It’s probably going to hurt, but I need you to stay as quiet as you can, all right?”

The man nodded and Carlos wasted no time in putting an arm under his shoulder and moving immediately toward the table a few feet away just as the assailant reappeared, apparently having reloaded a fresh round of ammunition.

Carlos dragged Danny the last few feet, hunching over as more glass shattered nearby. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Danny gasped.

“Stay down!” Carlos ordered, putting as much of his body over him as he could.

And that was when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The door to the grocery store opened and another man stepped out, looking up and down the street.

“No! Get back inside!” Carlos yelled.

He was on his feet and moving before he even thought, gunfire ringing in his ears as he tackled the man to the ground, both of them grunting in pain as they hit the concrete.

There was a squeal of tires and Carlos looked up to see the man in the dark sweatshirt jump into the back of a jeep, slamming the door shut as the driver hit the gas.

He was just able to make out the first three digits of the license plate before it turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

“Are you all right?” he asked the man underneath him, still breathing hard.

The man let out a moan. “He shot me.”

Sure enough there was blood seeping from a wound on the man’s arm. “Okay, deep breaths,” Carlos said, sitting up and reaching for his phone with one hand while the other clamped down firmly on the man’s arm, ignoring the pained swear words coming from his mouth.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“This is Officer Carlos Reyes, badge number 1-3-0-8. I am at the Machado Family Market on Ninth Street and we have a mass shooting situation. The suspect fled in a white jump, first three license plate digits 6-3-1. I have two known victims both male. Victim one is in his early thirties and appears to be suffering from a broken ankle. Victim two has been shot in the arm. Requesting immediate police and medical assistance,” Carlos barked as he grabbed a wad of napkins from a nearby table and pressed them against the man’s arm.

“Officer Reyes I am dispatching all available police units in your area and rolling medical,” the dispatcher told him calmly. “Do you need me to walk you through what to do with a bullet wound?”

“No I’ve got it,” Carlos said as he tried to stop the bleeding. He looked down at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Ian,” the man said with a grimace. “How bad is it?”

“Just stay still and keep taking deep breaths,” Carlos said. “We have ambulances on the way and they’re going to take good care of you.”

It didn’t look that bad to him, the bleeding seemed to be slowing, but he wasn’t a medical professional and he wasn’t going to make any promises. “How you doing over there, Danny?” he called over his shoulder to the first man.

“I’m all right,” he called back.

“Just try and be still okay? The less you move the less damage you’ll do,” Carlos called back.

It felt like an eternity before sirens split the air around them. People had started emerging from the store. A woman who said she was a nurse had gone to take a look at Danny’s ankle while others sort of walked slowly through the debris in a state of shock.

“Reyes?”

Carlos looked up to find a colleague, Matthew Cruz looking down at him. “You just have to be in the middle of the action at all times huh?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Carlos said, managing a half smile.

“You need help?”

“I think I’ve got him for now. If you can just send medical over as soon as possible that would be great.”

“On it,” Cruz said, keying his radio as he and the rest of the officers worked to clear the scene so medical could come in. “Any idea what happened?”

“It was one person,” Carlos said. “Dark hoodie, medium build. I got a partial plate when they fled the scene.”

“Yeah they picked up the Jeep’s tail a minute ago. Nice work.”

Carlos nodded.

Within minutes the scene was cleared and medical swarmed the area. A paramedic that Carlos didn’t know ran over and knelt beside him. “Need some help over here?” he asked.

“This is Ian,” Carlos told him. “Single gunshot wound to the arm. Bleeding was under control until a minute ago but I think the bullet might have moved and hit an artery.”

Blood had begun gushing through his fingers in the last few seconds and Carlos felt panicky at his inability to do more.

“Okay I’m going to put my hands over yours and you are going to slide out, got it?” the medic asked.

Carlos gave an affirmative and they switched places as another medic came over and joined them. “You take care Ian,” Carlos said.

“Thank you,” Ian told him, his face pale and sweaty.

Carlos got to his feet, surprised at how shaky and nauseated he felt. This type of scene wasn’t new for him, but he’d never been out of uniform during a crisis of this kind before and it was getting to him more than he would have expected.

“Carlos?” He heard T.K.’s horrified voice before he saw him and his heart sank. His boyfriend was going to be beyond upset.

“Oh my god! Are you all right?” T.K. moved toward him eyes wide, a bag slung over his shoulder with Nancy right behind him, looking equally concerned.

“I’m fine,” Carlos assured them. “A little shaken up, but fine.”

“There’s blood all over your hands,” Nancy said.

Carlos shook his head. “It’s not mine. There was a man who was shot, somebody from the 130 has him.”

“Hey! We need some help over here!” An officer beckoned the medics toward a woman who was bleeding from the head.

T.K. looked back at Carlos who waved him off. “Go help everyone else. I’m all right, I promise.”

They didn’t look convinced. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” T.K. asked.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Carlos assured him as they moved to help the woman in need.

He was vaguely aware of T.K. calling out vitals, Nancy rushing past him to grab something else off the ambulance as he wiped his arm across the back of his forehead, sweaty despite the fact that he was beginning to feel cold. The adrenaline that had fueled his heroics was wearing off fast and he knew he should probably sit down before his knees gave out, but he couldn’t quite figure out where to go.

Another team had already packed up the man with the broken ankle and Carlos gave him a nod as he rolled by. He could sense T.K.’s eyes darting back and forth from him to his patient, but he ignored his boyfriend. He was fine and T.K. needed to focus on his job.

He sucked in a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, swallowing hard as the nausea in his stomach swelled.

“Carlos, are you okay?”

He had spotted Tommy speaking to the incident commander a moment ago, but apparently she’d finished and was now standing in front of him with a worried look on her face. “Did someone examine you?”

Carlos shook his head. “No, I’m fine. What’s the situation? How many casualties?”

“Several injuries, mostly minor from broken glass or trip and falls. One gunshot victim so far.” She looked him up and down and he could see that she wasn’t going to let him go. “You look like you’ve been through it; why don’t you let me check you out?”

“I should go see if I can help—“

“Carlos, you are not on duty right now,” Tommy said, guiding him to a nearby chair, her fingers settling on his wrist to take his pulse. “Do you have any pain?”

“Not really,” Carlos said, feeling extremely tired now that he was finally sitting. “I’m kind of nauseous. Shaky.”

Tommy hummed in sympathy. “That could be the adrenaline. All this blood is another victim’s?” she asked, looking at his hands.

“I think the bullet may have found an artery,” he said, by way of explanation. “I was on him pretty fast but I don’t know if it was enough.”

Her hands ran up and down his arms as he spoke, searching for injuries. “You did everything you could,” she said.

Her hands moved across his chest, down his torso and then she stilled. “Nancy?” she called without taking her eyes off of Carlos.

Nancy looked up from where she was bandaging a cut on a woman’s forearm. “Yeah Cap?”

“Can you go get me a fresh kit and some oxygen from the rig?” Tommy’s voice was calm. Too calm. Carlos felt his heart begin to beat faster.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Carlos I want you to listen to me and stay calm,” Tommy said, her voice smooth and gentle. “You’ve been shot.”

Panic jolted through him. “What? No I—I’m fine.”

“We’re going to get you on the ground all right? Easy does it.” She put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his left side, sliding him easily off the chair and onto the sidewalk even as his confused brain tried to catch up. He couldn’t be shot. He would have felt it. He would know if he’d been shot.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said, noticing now that his voice was shaking and he felt even colder than before.

“That’s probably the adrenaline,” Tommy said. “You’re out here being a hero and saving everybody without even taking care of yourself.”

Nancy reappeared and her eyes widened in horror as Tommy cut up Carlos’ shirt and exposed his abdomen. “Nancy, go get T.K.”

“Cap…”

“Go quickly please,” Tommy said and now Carlos heard the sharp edge of urgency in her voice. “Here we go Carlos, take some deep breaths for me okay? This might hurt.”

Oh! Carlos choked back a cry as she put pressure on his right side. A lot of pressure. Pressure that sent all the agony he hadn’t been feeling burning through his body. He tried to arch his back and move away from her, but either he was weak from blood loss or she was stronger than she looked.

“Easy, easy Carlos,” she said as he gritted his teeth and tried not to let out another pained moan. “Try and relax for me. I know it’s hard, but I need you to stay as still as possible.”

Stay still when it felt like he was on fire?

T.K. appeared above him, eyes wild with fear, a hand cupping his cheek. “Cap what—?”

“Gunshot wound to the lower right quadrant,” Tommy said evenly. “No apparent exit wound. Nancy get him on oxygen. T.K. can you work?”

“I—“

“Yes or no?” she asked sharply.

“Yes, yes I can,” T.K. said, but Carlos could see tears in his eyes. He wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but his arms didn’t seem to be working anymore. He felt weirdly detached from his body. Detached from everything except the pain radiating through his side.

“Okay let’s get him on some fluids,” Tommy ordered. “How you doing Carlos?”

“Fine,” Carlos slurred from underneath the oxygen mask. He didn’t like the way the air blew against his face, but breathing did seem easier so he didn’t try and pull it off.

“Carlos stay awake,” Nancy ordered when his eyes slid shut.

He forced them open again. Why? Why did he need to stay awake? He couldn’t quite remember.

“T.K.?” his eyes searched for his boyfriend, it was hard to see with the mask covering half his face.

“I’m right here babe,” T.K. said, appearing in front of his eyes. “You’re all right. You’re going to be just fine okay?”

He put a hand on Carlos’ head and Carlos felt an odd urge to cry, tears pricking at his eyes, his throat tightening, making it even harder to breathe.

“Let’s get him on the gurney,” Tommy ordered. “Carlos let us do the work okay? We’re going to get you out of here.”

He might have blacked out when they lifted him onto the gurney. He definitely threw up. It was horrible.

T.K. got the mask off just in time and Nancy rushed to put a basin under his chin. He fell back with a moan that turned into a whine, not something he was particularly proud of. He wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when he’d just been shaky and weak in the knees. Nothing had hurt then. Now everything hurt and he wanted it to stop.

“T.K.,” he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes as they slid him inside.

“I know, I know it hurts babe,” T.K. said and Carlos could see he was near to tears as well. “Tommy can we up his morphine?”

“Give him a few more milligrams,” Tommy said as she slammed the doors shut behind her. “Let’s go Nancy!”

Carlos felt a tiny bit of relief from the pain as medication flooded his veins. He pulled the oxygen mask from his face. “My parents,” he rasped.

“I will call them as soon as we get to the hospital,” T.K. promised.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said, closing his eyes as tears slipped down his face.

“No, no, no,” T.K. said quickly, putting the oxygen mask back in place and stroking his hair. “You don’t need to be sorry. You are good and brave and perfect and you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t want to leave you,” Carlos said, his heart splitting into two at the thought.

“You’re not,” T.K. said firmly. “You’re not leaving. Right Tommy?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said as she adjusted the IV’s. “You are staying right here with us. A little surgery, a few days in the hospital, and you’re going to be good as new.”

“See?” T.K. said, his voice breaking just a little as his thumb moved back and forth over Carlos’ forehead. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

He drifted in and out after that, everything coming in flashes and blurs of noise and light and pain.

“I love you,” T.K. said to him over and over again, pressing his lips against Carlos’ forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up."

And then he was gone and there was pain and strangers and the sharp smell of antiseptic burning in his nostrils. There were voices all around but he didn’t understand what they were saying, didn’t know what was happening until someone with a soft voice took his hand.

“Officer Reyes we’re taking you into surgery now. They’re going to remove the bullet and repair any damage. You’re going to go to sleep and when you wake up things will be much better.”

Then someone was putting something over his face, telling him to count, but he was so tired and his tongue felt leaden in his mouth.

He had no idea how much time passed. He woke up to voices, some familiar some not, and excruciating pain in his side. He might have cried, he thought maybe someone wiped his tears away. Someone definitely put a straw in his mouth and encouraged him to drink, which felt good on his dry throat, but then he was drifting again.

Everything was heavy and tired and painful and sleep kept dragging him under again and again like waves beating against the shore. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them, not even when T.K. was whispering things in his ear or when he felt his mother run her fingers through his hair.

It felt like a long time before he was able to swim up from the darkness and blink his eyes open in the harsh lighting of his hospital room. He swallowed hard, his mouth and throat still parched and tasting of medication. “There he is.”

Carlos turned his head and found his father sitting by his bed, a smile on his face. “Are you with us mijo?”

Carlos nodded, brain still foggy as he tried to piece together the events that had gotten him here. “Are you in pain Carlitos?”

His eyes searched until he found his mother sitting in a second chair, a pile of knitting in her lap. “I was shot?” he asks, his voice coming out raw.

“Yes, mijo,” his father said, sitting forward. “At the grocery store.”

“How,” he swallowed painfully, “how long?”

“It’s been about six hours,” his mother said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

Carlos winced. “Bad?” he asked, apparently only capable of single syllable words.

“Nothing they couldn’t fix,” his dad assured him. “They were able to remove the bullet without complications. There was minimal damage. You can ask your boy, he knows all the medical stuff they’ve been talking about.”

“Where is he?” Carlos asked, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

“He just went home to get some things for you,” his mom said. “He got here before we did and hasn’t left your side, but we knew it could be a while before you woke up and he was still in his uniform. He looked very uncomfortable.”

“He should be back soon. Do you want us to call him? Tell him what you’d like from home?” his father asked.

Carlos shook his head, already feeling himself drifting away again. “Just tell him to come back.”

His mother squeezed his leg through the sheets. “He’s coming Carlitos. He’ll be here soon. Just rest now.”

The next time he opened his eyes T.K. was there. His uniform was gone, replaced by jeans and a grey hoodie, the strings of which he was fiddling with absentmindedly as he stared a hole into the wall across the room. “Hey,” Carlos croaked.

T.K.’s eyes immediately flicked to him and he sat forward on the chair. “Hey babe,” he said softly, his face a mask of worry and exhaustion. “How are you feeling?”

In pain was the answer, but Carlos wasn’t going to let him know that. “I love you,” he managed to croak out, tears tightening his throat.

“I love you too,” T.K. said, reaching for his hand and threading their fingers together reassuringly. “I love you so much.”

Carlos shook his head and tried to get his emotions under control. “I made peace so long ago with the idea that one of us might die in the line of duty. But I never…I didn’t ever think that picking up groceries…”

“I know,” T.K. said. “Me neither.”

Carlos shook his head and had to swallow down a moan of pain as he tried to get more comfortable in the bed, a seemingly futile task. “Easy,” T.K. said, coming to help him. “Take it from someone who knows, bullet wounds hurt like hell.”

“I uh, I asked my parents but they don’t understand everything like you do. How bad is it?”

T.K. squeezed his hand. “As far as gunshot wounds go, you got very lucky. It missed everything vital. Barring any complications you’ll be out of here in a few days.”

Carlos exhaled slowly and looked up at the ceiling. “Okay. Good.”

“How’s your pain?” T.K. asked. “Do you need more medication?”

“No, I’m all right,” Carlos said even though the pain in his side was slowly growing from an ache to a knifelike stabbing.

T.K. fixed him with a look. “You don’t have to be brave,” he said bluntly. “If you need more medication, you can have more medication. There’s no reason to tough this out. It won’t speed up your healing time at all.”

It was all said in a forceful, strained tone and Carlos took a good look at his boyfriend, noting the pallor of his face, how drawn he seemed. “Are you okay?”

“You’re the one in the hospital bed,” T.K. pointed out.

“And you’re the one who had to save my life while I was bleeding out on the street,” Carlos countered.

“You should be resting, not worrying about my feelings.”

“If you don’t talk to me I’ll just worry more.”

“Carlos.”

“T.K.” Carlos gave him a pointed look.

T.K. sighed and leaned back in his chair before looking into Carlos’ eyes. “It was terrifying. The most…terrifying thing I’ve ever lived through. And I feel,” his voice caught. “I feel so guilty that I didn’t see it when I first got there. That I let you walk around, bleeding out…Carlos I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Carlos said. “T.K., this was not your fault.”

T.K. clenched his jaw and shook his head. “You, and Tommy, and Nancy, and your parents and, my parents can say that all you want. But I’m going to have to live with the guilt for a while.”

“You were doing your job. You were helping people who needed to be helped.”

T.K. leaned forward, pain in his eyes. “My first, and most important job is taking care of you.”

“You did,” Carlos said. “You always do.”

T.K. still looked like he was in pain. “Is there something else?” Carlos asked. “You can tell me.”

He shook his head. “You’re tired and you’re hurting. We can have this conversation another time. You don’t need to be worried about me right now.”

“I always worry about you,” Carlos said. “That’s part of the deal in a relationship.”

T.K. blew out a breath. “You know, when Alex and I ended, I had to figure out how to be enough for myself. To look inside myself for strength. To find it within me to continue on with life even when it got tough.

“And then I met you and it was so easy. Being with you is…it’s the best I’ve ever felt. I feel whole. Like myself. And looking at you in that street, holding your hand, trying so hard to keep you alive…I had a lot of time in the waiting room to sort through my feelings and try to…try to figure things out.”

“And?” Carlos asked gently.

T.K.’s mouth shaped into a sad, forlorn smile. “I realized that…I can do it. I can do this life without you.” His breath caught and Carlos saw tears pool in his eyes. “But I really, really don’t want to.”

“Hey.” Carlos reached out a hand and gently grasped T.K.’s wrist. “You don’t have to. I’m here.”

T.K. finally managed a small smile. He reached up and smoothed a curl from Carlos’ forehead. “Yes. You are.”

He cleared his throat and Carlos watched him shove all his pain and feelings deeply back inside. They would need to pick up this conversation later. Maybe when his mind was a little less foggy and his entire body didn’t hurt like hell.

“And listen, we’re even now. I got shot, you got shot, that’s enough. It’s not a competition,” T.K. said, flashing a manufactured smile.

“I will definitely try not to get shot again,” Carlos promised. “How’s everyone else? The man with the gunshot wound and the guy with the broken ankle?”

“Both fine thanks to you. Everyone else only had minor injuries. You’re a hero,” T.K. told him. “Your face is all over the news.”

Carlos closed his eyes and groaned. “How did they get my name?”

T.K. gave him a wry smile. “Adriana and Francesca are in the waiting room with your parents. I think they’ve hit on every doctor, nurse, and orderly in the place.”

Carlos sighed. “And they talked to the news crews.”

“They really didn’t like you being referred to as an unidentified officer. They’d like you to get full credit for your heroics. And hopefully a medal. And a monetary reward. Which you will use to take them on vacation.”

“God they’re the worst.”

“They definitely are,” T.K. agreed. His face sobered. “But they’ve been here since I texted and refuse to leave even though they can’t come up. Underneath their astonishingly blatant horniness and greed, they’re really worried about you.”

“They always come through,” Carlos said.

“They also brought coffee and donuts. Don’t tell them, but I love them.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He shivered and winced as he was reminded that any movement at all was beyond painful.

“Are you cold?” T.K. asked.

“A little.”

“It’s probably the blood loss.” He reached into the duffel bag next to him and pulled out a blanket that Carlos recognized.

“You brought me a blanket from home?” Carlos asked, heart melting at his boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

“Hospitals are notoriously cold and their blankets notoriously suck,” T.K. told him as he tucked it gently around his legs. He kissed the tip of Carlos’ nose. “You should try and get some sleep. Hospital wake up call comes early.”

“Thank you,” Carlos said. “You’ll uh, you’ll stay with me?”

T.K. smiled and leaned closer, carding his fingers through Carlos’ curls. “If you’re here, I’m here.”

#911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand #Tarlos #Gunshot wound #Hurt Carlos #Carlos whump #Ambulance ride #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Hurt/Comfort #911 LS #Tarlos Fic

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lisbonsteresa · 3 years

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You’re Once (In Any Lifetime)

🥳 🥳 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY( @eddiediaz)!!!! 🥳 🥳 (little late is better than never fingers crossed. a little something for my drew crew bestie who i have never yelled at, cajoled into watching a show, or threatened with a knife emoji. hope you like the...kind of au of the au of the - let’s just call it the 7th generation of an au 😘)

___

“She’s lingering again.”

“Call a spade a spade Bess.” George grumbled as she entered the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes. “At this point she’s loitering.”

Nick glanced up from where he was reviewing that month’s order form at the prep table with a slight grin. “Don’t know if you can go that far. I mean she did pay for her dinner.”

“Oh please,” George shot back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s been 45 minutes since she paid her bill and she’s still nursing that iced tea like it’s a long island.” As if she knew they were talking about her, the redhead in the corner booth looked up from her glass and gave a small, unsure smile across the sparsely-seated dining room in their direction. She did not receive any in response.

“What I don’t understand is why she keeps coming here, of all places. I mean it’s not like our food is good.” An offended grunt came from Bess’s right, and she spun around to see the Claw’s cook pressing a burger to the grill with a wounded expression.

“Oh no, Charlie,” she backtracked frantically, hands held out in a feeble attempt to placate the older man. “I just meant compared to what they must have at the yacht club.”

Charlie gave a noncommittal shrug, apparently forgiving the unintended slight before moving down the line where he hopefully missed Bess’s whispered “Or anywhere else…”

“Guys, come on.” Ace cut in, voice calm and measured even as he scrubbed determinedly at a rusting lobster pot. “It’s not like we don’t have other customers keeping us here. What’s so bad about Nancy lingering a bit?”

“The fact that she’s not just ‘Nancy’, Ace.” George admonished as she tipped her dishes into the full sink in front of him, raising the water level until it sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “She’s Nancy Hudson. You know how the hill-toppers treat us townies -”

“When they’re not wheeling and dealing in back rooms to screw us over while they’re sitting pretty in their ivory towers.” Nick interrupted, his attention still on the sheet in front of him.

“Exactly.” George gave her boyfriend an appreciative look as she leaned up against the prep table next to him. “And now what, I’m supposed to be happy that one of them deigned to grace us with her presence?”

“Yes, and I had to take her hill-topper order.” Bess lamented, pouting near the line window until she noticed Nick looking at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You know you’re a hill-topper, right Bess?”

She turned towards him, her expression scandalized and defensive. “That is completely different, Mr. Multimillionaire.” (Nick held his hands up in amused defeat). “I only just became a Marvin; I wasn’t born and raised a hill-topper, unlike some people.”

“Besides,” she glanced back across the dining room with an insulted wrinkle of her nose, “the Hudsons and Marvins are long-standing enemies; it was humiliating to have to serve one of them.”

“The Hudsons and Marvins, maybe, but not you and Nancy.” Ace countered, leaning the lobster pot against the back of the drying rack before reaching into the increasingly murky water to start on George’s dishes. “You two barely know each other.”

Bess paused, playing with her necklace and staring into space as if considering this fact for the first time. “Well, I guess that’s true…"

“And she’s been spending her gap year here in town volunteering and helping Hannah Gruen set up a scholarship with the Historical Society.” Ace continued with a glance over his shoulder at Nick.

“I mean, that’s great, but -” Nick stopped, eyes narrowing “wait, how do you know that?”

Ace’s hands paused their motions, just for a fraction of a second, before he resumed rinsing a plate and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Must’ve seen it in the paper somewhere.” He muttered offhandedly. “And -”

“And nothing.” George cut him off, crossing her arms across her chest with a scowl. “A few good deeds don’t change the fact that this time next year she’ll be 300 miles away with a full ride to some Ivy League school just because of her last name, and the rest of us will still be stuck here cleaning grease traps in an old clam shack.” Ace’s shoulders tensed more and more with every word that left her mouth. “And since when did you start defending Hudsons anyway?”

“I’m not defending the Hudsons, I’m defending Na-” Ace spun around to face the room and froze, realizing that his raised voice had turned three sets of interested eyes in his direction. (Well, four, if you counted Charlie.) “I’m not defending anybody.” he continued after a beat. “I’m just saying you can’t help who your family is, and at least she’s trying to be better than hers. It wouldn’t kill you guys to try and see that.”

No one said anything - this was the most upset any of them had seen Ace get since the time that nor'easter put a tree branch through Florence’s windshield. “Anyway, dishes are done; I’m gonna take my break.”

He tossed the towel that had been slung over his shoulder down onto the counter and stomped down the steps towards the storeroom. The back door slammed shut a moment later, and the others turned back towards the dining room to see that Nancy had at last abandoned her iced tea and was heading towards the exit with the air of someone in a rush trying very hard to appear relaxed.

“So…” Bess began, her eyes flicking back and forth between Nancy’s booth and the door. “when do we tell him we saw them making out by the loading dock last Thursday?”

“I say we make him sweat for a bit.” George said with a shrug as she straightened and headed out to clear the table. “Serves him right for thinking he could keep something like this from us.” Bess and Nick shared an amused smile behind her, then got back to their own work.

If any of them noticed that Ace arrived back from his break 20 minutes late with his hair in disarray, they kept it to themselves.

_____

“Great. I’m going to be picking seaweed out of my hair for a week. Thanks a lot Bess.”

Bess paused her efforts to wring out her dress to shoot an incredulous look in George’s direction. “I’m sorry, how is this my fault!?”

“It’s my birthday George!” Came the response in a mocking imitation of the Brit’s accent. “Just close for inventory George! It’ll be fun George!”

“Well excuse me for trying to enjoy a nice beach day!” Bess shot back. “How was I supposed to know we’d be attacked by that kelkey-whatever??”

“Kelpie.” Nick corrected, stopping the bickering for a moment while all three turned their attention towards the redhead kneeling in the sand and frantically running her hands over a soaking wet and slightly dazed Ace. “That’s what you called it, right?”

The second Nancy realized she was being addressed, her hands dropped from Ace’s body like they had been burned. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, a kelpie. They’re Scottish horse spirits that drag their victims underwater and devour them. That silver necklace Bess had was its bridle, and -” she paused, looking around to see the others staring blankly at her.

“Sorry.” Her voice sounded almost sheepish. “I volunteer over at the historical society a lot, and there’s some…interesting stuff in their archives.” Another moment passed. No one’s expression changed.

“…Anyway the bridle can be used to control it, so I think it attacked you to try and get it back. And since you didn’t know what it was, it just seemed easier to grab it and toss it then try and explain why it was making the giant horse spirit angry.” She finished with a weak grin, as if she’d been explaining the weather and not the most terrifying thing most of them had ever seen.

No one spoke for a while longer, and then Bess’s quiet “Oh.” broke the silence. “Well…okay. For a second I thought you just really didn’t like my necklace.”

The tension broken, the others looked at her with varying levels of amusement before she let out a gasp and turned to address Nancy directly. “Wait my cousin Cassidy gave me that last night! You don’t think…”

“I don’t think she knew what it was.” Nancy replied with an almost fond smile. “When the historical society got the request to put the necklace in one its deposit boxes, the record just said it was a Marvin family heirloom; brought over aboard the Governance.”

“And the kelpie followed it all the way here?” Nick asked, eying Nancy sideways as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

She shrugged. “There are some records that say kelpies are bound to follow their bridles, wherever they go. They can’t leave the water though, so it could have gotten into the bay and then…gotten lost, I guess.” Bess was already nodding along as if everything Nancy was saying made perfect sense. “We didn’t realize the necklace was anything out of the ordinary until Cassidy came to request it and Hannah thought she recognized it from her research.”

“Well good thing she did, or this might’ve been Bess’s last birthday.” George smirked. “Never thought I’d say this,” she continued, ignoring her friend’s offended huff and turning towards Nancy, “but I’m glad you were around, Hudson.”

“Thanks.” Nancy sounded like she wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by the statement. “I was looking for you guys, actually. When we realized what the necklace was, we called Cassidy and she said she’d given it to you for your birthday, and since you were coming to the beach Hannah and I were worried that getting it too close to the water might -”

“Wait, how did you know we’d be at the beach?” Bess interrupted.

Nancy stilled, her eyes darting over to a still-groggy Ace then back to the others so quickly that they might have missed it had they not been watching her so closely. “I must have overheard it the last time I was at the Claw.” Her voice was measured; almost deliberately calm. “When it’s slow there your voices tend to carry.”

Bess and Nick gave each other an uneasy sidelong glance at Nancy’s implication, while George’s expression grew into something approaching begrudging respect. “Anyway,” Nancy stood, brushing sand off her pants and looking anywhere but in Ace’s direction, “I should get back to Hannah and let her know everything’s okay. See you around.”

She turned and started heading towards the parking lot, and Ace watched with worried eyes as his friends had a rapid fire non-verbal conversation. Bess nodded towards Nick, who responded with a shrug. They both looked over at Ace with small smiles, then turned to George; Nick with one eyebrow raised in question and Bess with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. George glanced at Ace before letting out a labored sigh and rolling her eyes as she called down the beach: “Hey Hudson!”

Nancy turned, hands twisting in the strap of the messenger bag. “You wanna meet us at the Claw after we get cleaned up?” George asked. “We’re closed for inventory - it’d be a good place to talk about all…this.” (Bess cleared her throat pointedly.) “And we have cake for Bess’s birthday.”

The smile that bloomed on Nancy’s face was beaming, even at a distance. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

______

It had been three weeks since the kelpie incident, and for all intents and purposes, Nancy had settled in as the fifth member of their little group. She and Bess had gotten along almost immediately, despite some awkward encounters when they had run into family while together.

Nick had warmed to her considerably once she started helping him with his plans for a youth center in town. (It certainly hadn’t hurt that she’d ‘misplaced’ her grandfather’s application for the building on Spring St. until Nick’s bid had already closed).

And while George and Nancy bickered almost constantly, they (usually) did it with smiles on their faces. If asked, they might not call each other ‘friends’, but they were definitely heading in a good direction.

The first Friday afternoon of July found them sprawled out across the dining table of Nick’s loft, brainstorming ideas for that year’s ‘Still Summer at the Bayside Claw’ event. (Or rather found most of them. Truth be told, Bess’s focus might have been more on her online shopping.) They’d been working for an hour or so when a noise like the rapid honking of a clown nose suddenly interrupted the conversation.

“Shit,” Ace muttered, grabbing his phone and snoozing the alarm, “I’m going to be late for Shabbat.” He gathered his things in a rush, exchanged a quick “Bye” and kiss with Nancy, then froze.

His eyes moved rapidly between the others - Nancy’s wide-eyed panic; George’s look of shock and disgust; Nick’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead; Bess’s almost giddy expression - before seeming to make a decision.

“Uh…Nick,” he croaked out before anyone could react any further, making his way over to where his friend was sitting with an air of forced normalcy and kissing him like it was something he did every day. “thank you for having me.”

“See you tomorrow, Bess.” He continued, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek, causing a giggle to escape her barely-maintained composure.

He turned towards the other end of the table, eying George the way an antelope might eye a lion. “George -”

“Don’t even think about it.” She cut him off with a glare.

“Right. ‘Course.” He glanced around the room one last time as he backed towards the door, eyes skipping over Nancy as if he was afraid of what his expression might reveal if he focused at all on her. “Um, have a good night everyone.” And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as his rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway.

A minute passed in complete silence, then another.

Nick looked absolutely mystified, his fingers stuck halfway to his lips like he couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. George’s grimace was slowly turning into an amused smirk, and Bess looked seconds away from breaking into complete hysterics.

Another minute passed before Nancy, staring at the table with a face almost as red as her hair, broke the silence. “So…how long have you guys known?”

“Since before the kelpie incident.” George answered bluntly, while Nick shook off his daze and turned his attention towards Nancy and Bess took a calming breath and tried to bite back her laughter.

“Oh.”

Nancy’s eyes darted between the table and the door as if trying to decide if it would be worse to try and explain herself or just cut her losses and run. “Ok, well, we were going to tell you, we just -”

“You can relax Nancy.” Nick cut in, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch, but finally turned to see an understanding smile on his face. “You wouldn’t be here right now if any of us still had a problem with you.”

Bess nodded rapidly, reaching across the table to cover one of Nancy’s hands with her own. “You make Ace happy, and that’s what really matters to us."

A wobbly smile began to grow on Nancy’s face, before she blinked and turned towards George with apprehension and a bit of challenge in her eyes.

George’s expression stayed firm until Nick cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the grin she gave Nancy was genuine.“Plus I guess you’re not horrible.”

That pulled a laugh from Nancy, even as she blinked back touched tears she knew George would make fun of. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate that.”

(To say Ace was confused when she walked into the Claw the next morning and kissed him in the middle of the dining room would be an understatement, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.)

#(also please don't judge me i did like .5 seconds of research on kelpies on wikipedia and manipulated that information to suit my needs)#anyway hope you had a wonderful birthday weekend; hope this year will make you happier (and clownier [honk honk]) than any before it #💕💕💕💕💕#nancy drew cw #ndff

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Bloodlust

Summary: You were a rookie Jashinist with a dark secret, he was a demented shinobi with a desire to slaughter anything and everything for his god. Pairing: Hidan x Fem!Reader (canon verse) Warnings & Content: dark content - minors dni, language, blood kink, kidnapping, murder, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, knives, human sacrifice, cult-like behaviour, religious fanatism, Reader and Hidan are... insane, slight gore. Word Count: 2.8 k

A/N: Read those tags carefully. Hidan's not exactly a warm and fuzzy character.

"Please, let me go... I won't tell anyone." You peeled your lips open, dry from all the crying and lack of hydration, hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead.

"Let you go? But... you came here willingly." He sneered, flashing you his teeth.

He was right. You joined the Jashinists thinking they were a liberal religion, preaching freedom and anarchy, but you did not expect sadism and human sacrifices. And you didn't expect to fall in love with Hidan — the most vile man you've ever encountered. Not that he knew that, anyway. He couldn't possibly fathom the idea that a sweet thing like you could love a man like him. But you weren't a saint.

"T-then why are you doing this to m-me?" You breathed, the ropes around your wrists cutting the blood circulation in your hands.

Hidan clicked his tongue and placed his scythe on the floor. "Because I can." He picked up a knife — no, a kunai. "And because you wanted to run away."

Ah, there it was. You decided to leave this cult when Hidan prompted you to kill some poor ninja he'd kidnapped a few days ago. You refused, expecting to be left alone, and now you were the sacrifice.

"I t-told you, I- I only kill those who deserve it."

"Everyone deserves it, Y/N. Especially traitors." Hidan traced the blade over your exposed abdomen, goosebumps dotting your skin and you were ashamed to admit that it made you feel... something.

"So, you're just g-going to kill m-me?"

"Don't be sad. You'll make a fine fucking sacrifice for Jashin."

"Please, Hidan, give m-me another c-chance." Tears pooled at your eyes. Death was not on your list, not now, and especially not at his hands.

"You know we don't give second chances." The blade was now between your tits, the tip slowly poking into your skin. Crimson droplets seeped from the fresh wound. It stung like a bitch, and it made you whimper, but the heat in your cunt signalled your arousal.

"You d-don't, but Jashin does." You whispered, and Hidan was completely taken aback.

"Excuse you?"

"Every t-time you failed to kill someone, hengave you another c-chance." You spat at him. "What m-makes you think he won't g-give me one?"

Confused wouldn't even begin to describe what he felt. Hidan blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the question before he dropped the kunai and left without a word.

You didn't know exactly how much time passed since he left. By this point you couldn't feel your fingers and the room began to spin, head dizzy from exhaustion. The door swung open and you shot your head up, startled by the sudden intrusion. Hidan walked in with a terrifying look on his face and bent down to grab the blade. He slashed the first rope and your hand fell limp by your hip.

"You're lucky he's a benevolent god." He slashed the second rope and your knees hit the cold, hard floor. Fear, happiness and anxiety coiled in your stomach, surprised that you have, indeed, been given a second chance.

"You talked to him?" You shook your wrists to get the blood flowing, eyes finding his.

"Yes, and surprisingly he likes you. Says you have potential." His voice went up an octave when uttering the last word in what seemed to be sarcasm.

Still on the floor, you arched a brow. "Do you doubt his judgement?" You suspected it was a mistake to ask that question, because in a split second Hidan yanked your hair and pulled your head back to look at him upside-down.

"I'll die before I doubt the good lord. Who I doubt is you." He pierced your soul with his sangria eyes, chills running down your spine, stopping in-between your thighs. You hated the effect he had over you, you hated that he was so oblivious to your hints, only focused on Jashin. Always Jashin.

Granted, Jashin did offer Hidan immortality, which was something you could only dream of. You were a pathetic civilian with a knack for medical jutsu, but never properly trained. He was a full-fledged shinobi who could snap your neck like a twig if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

But, the word of Jashin was law for Hidan. As much as he wanted to sacrifice you to his beloved god, he had to refrain himself, fearing punishment for his sins. And as much as he hated to admit it, you shared and valued the same goals of Jashinism — to a certain extent. You were down to slaughter people, but only those who deserved it, and apparently to Jashin that was enough. But not to Hidan. Never to Hidan.

"Jashin says I have potential, it's not up to you to talk back." You mustered up some courage after your wounds healed. That medical jutsu thing you practised for self-healing really came in handy when Hidan had violent outbursts and Kakuzu wasn't there to put him in his place. Shame you didn't know how to use it to heal others.

"Listen here, you little bitch, just because you've been pardoned now doesn't mean I'll hesitate to stab your tits when you disobey the lord." He let go of your hair and you leaned forward, palms on the floor to stop you from falling. "Besides, you're gonna have to prove yourself. Again."

You knew exactly what he meant. You had to kill. And Hidan wasn't one to let you off the hook — you'd have to kill someone innocent, and the idea of performing such a sacrifice made your stomach churn, it made you want to throw up, because you knew you'd enjoy it. Murdering someone deserving felt like a chore, like something natural. But the thought of killing someone undeserving made your heart flutter, your cunt burn and your head hazy with a high so addictive, no drug in the world could compare to it.

"Don't make me kill someone, please."

"Oh, spare me of your holier-than-thou bullshit. You either kill or be killed, Y/N. Now let's get to fucking work." Hidan bruised your arm in the process of 'helping' you up, unaware of the pleasant surprise that lurked within you. Because if he knew the real you, he'd probably question his own sanity — and that's something he'd never done. The real you was obscene, twisted and demented, long before you discovered Jashinism, but you tried to bury that part of you deep down. You seemingly succeeded, focusing your bloodlust on anarchy and overthrowing the Tsuchikage with a group of punk teenagers from your village, Iwagakure.

Until you met Hidan.

"I really don't want to do this." You pleaded with the silver-haired man, hands trembling and eyes watery.

"Kill him, Y/N." Hidan rolled his eyes, the blades of his scythe pressing into your back as you pressed your kunai into the victim's neck. "Kill him or I kill you."

"Alright, alright, I'll do it. But give me some space."

"Tch, pretentious bitch." He stepped aside, watching you carefully.

"More space." You demanded and he took another step back with an impatient look on his face.

"There's only one exit to this cave. If you think, for a fucking second, that you walk out of here alive you're wrong. Unless you kill him." Hidan licked his lips. "Jashin demands a sacrifice. Now."

You looked down at the symbol drawn with the victim's blood, then back at the man in front of you. His eyes were wide open and filled with tears, arms chained to then wall of the cave. He frantically shook his head, saliva dripping from his gag as he prayed for salvation.

"I'm so sorry." You spoke — not sorry for the victim, but for yourself and what you'd become after this day. Slender fingers lifted his chin upwards and with one swift movement, you slit open the skin, blood gushing out, spraying your face, neck and cleavage. "Fuck..." You moaned, the hot crimson liquid dripping down your chin.

"See, it wasn't so bad." Hidan elbowed you but you didn't move, instead, you gripped the blade handle tightly and drove it into the victim's abdomen, more blood spluttering on you when you removed it. "Oh, you want more?" The rogue shinobi quirked a brow, content with your choice. Adrenaline and arousal rushed through your veins and you dropped the kunai, the clanging echoing in the cave.

"Hidan..." You trailed off, tentatively unzipping your black cloak. "I want you to fuck me."

The silver-haired man watched you smear the blood over your exposed tits, his cock twitching in his pants. Finally, he realised just how beautiful you truly were, the pure ecstasy on your face igniting a flame in his core.

"Here?" He asked, somewhat surprised by your request.

"Yes, please." You turned around to face him, and the look on his face told you just how impressed he was.

"Now aren't you just so full of surprises? And here I thought you were just some goodie two-shoes who refused to harm people." Hidan removed his Akatsuki cloak, letting it fall to the ground, allowing you to see just how hard he was. You bit on your lower lip, the metallic taste was pure bliss in your mouth. "You filthy, disgusting whore." He sneered, his lips crushing yours in a shameful, euphoric kiss. The moment his tongue touched the blood in your mouth, his skin began to darken, his body linking with the victim's, meaning he hasn't died yet.

"Isn't he going to feel everything?" You pulled back from the kiss, but your voice wasn't in any way concerned about the man chained to the wall.

"Oh, he's going to feel it, alright." Hidan laughed, his hand pushing your head as you lowered yourself down your knees. Fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants and you pulled down both of the layers, his cock slapping your face. "Suck."

You obediently parted your lips, taking the velvety tip into your mouth, tongue swirling around it before you moved to his shaft. Hidan threw his head back, his fingers tangling in your hair as you bobbed your head back and forth, your moans music to his ears. The gurgling sounds coming from the victim told you that he, indeed, felt everything Hidan felt and your twisted mind enjoyed it so fucking much. You picked up the pace, earning grunts and growls from the rogue shinobi before he held your head in place, stuffing your mouth and throat with his thick cock until you dug your fingers in his thigh, desperately trying to breathe.

"Jashin was right to give you a second chance." Hidan released you and you gasped for air. "You're his gift for me."

The blood on your body dried out, but you were just as beautiful. You leaned on your back, spreading your legs for him. It was a smart decision not to wear anything underneath your cloak. The silver-haired man kneeled between your thighs, his hands bruising your skin with rough touches before he found your dripping cunt.

"Shit, Y/N, you're soaking wet." He shoved two fingers between your folds, curling them upwards. You squirmed and moaned, desperate for something bigger.

"S-skip the foreplay and fuck m-me!" You begged but Hidan wasn't one to listen. He thrusted his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way you thrashed and moaned his name, enjoying the way you arched your back with every movement.

"You're so beautiful." He confessed and you were caught off guard. It was the first time he ever said something nice to you, let alone compliment you. "You really are a sight for sore fucking eyes." Hidan removed his fingers but before you could say anything, he shoved them in your mouth. "Don't you taste like a needy slut?"

You nodded with lidded eyes, cheeks hollowed as you sucked the slick off of fingers. Hidan hovered over you, his cock grazing over your slit and aching clit, then kissed you with so much force and passion you almost couldn't breathe.

"Fuck, you taste good." He grabbed his shaft and pushed the tip painstakingly slowly between your folds. Oh, he was so much bigger than you expected, but you quickly got accustomed to his girth, mouth agape and eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"Shit- Hidan!" You bucked your hips, legs wrapping around his waist as he wrapped his calloused fingertips around your neck.

"Jashin damn it, you are so tight. You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

You shook your head, fingernails digging into his back and the victim gurgled again. Hidan released the grip from your neck, instead holding you by the hips and frenziedly pulling you onto his cock. It was sinful, degrading and demented, and his brutal, animalistic thrusts only turned you on more. The sound of skin against skin, growls and moans echoed in the cave, and soon enough Hidan's bone-like markings faded. You didn't care, he was still buried into your cunt, but the thrill of having your pussy obliterated next to a dying man dissipated, replaced by the pure lust Hidan radiated.

"Fuck, I'm-"

"No, you're not. Not until I fucking allow it." The silver-haired man pulled out and you cried, literal tears pooling at your eyes as you were on the brink of an orgasm. "You've been a bad, bad, girl, denying Jashin, denying slaughter, denying me." He gave your cunt a firm slap which vibrated through your entire body, ending with a whimper.

"Y-you have n-no idea how m-much I want you, Hidan." You squeezed your thighs together for a crumb or friction, but he forcefully pushed your knees to the sides.

"Then you should listen. See what a good job you've done today?" He tilted his head to the chained corpse.

"You d-don't understand... I've g-got an insatiable bloodlust." You admitted, but you knew he'd only be more intrigued.

"That's exactly why you've been drawn to Jashinism." Hidan flipped you over, and you were down on all fours. He pushed his cock back in you with one deep thrust, earning another moan out of you. "Embrace it, Y/N. You and I can do great things together, for him."

"But it's wrong." You whispered and you could feel his arm slithering around your neck, pulling you closer to him.

"And who told you that? Society? Your parents? Nah, I'll be your daddy from now on." His fat cock brushed against your cervix, your silken walls clenching around it as he fucked you harder. "You wanna come, don't you?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Yes, what?" Hidan tightened the grip, your back against his chest.

"Yes, daddy! Please, I want it, I want it!" You whimpered.

"And are you going to give Jashin everything he wants?"

It was decided — Hidan stripped you of any speck of humanity or rationality you had left in you. You loved him, after all, and he loved Jashin.

"Yes, I will! Jashin can have anything he wants as long as I have you."

"Good girl." He kissed your head before releasing your neck, hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. "Nowyou can come."

Your cunt was aching for release, and you mustered enough strength to rub your clit in messy, circular motions. Soon enough, you felt it coming — the rush of adrenaline as Hidan fucked into you, fingers pinching your sore nipples. You came on his cock with a soft moan and with one final, violent thrust he fills you up, cum dripping from your sloppy cunt as he pulls out. You rolled on your back, propping yourself on your elbows and Hidan froze, the sight of your used and abused pussy hypnotising him.

"Like what you see?" You grinned, fingers tentatively grazing over your slit, dipping between your folds before you brought them to your mouth to taste his seed.

"Shit, I think I'm in love." His sangria eyes bore into yours and your heart fluttered. You knew he was an asshole, and he probably only said it in the heat of the moment, but you were satisfied with what you got.

"What about him?"

"Meh, Kakuzu will take care of the mess. I wanna take a fucking bath." Hidan picked his red and black cloak up from the floor before getting up. "And I'm starving."

You pursed your lips and lowered your gaze. So much for being in love with you.

"You coming to the hot springs?"

"Me?"

"As much as I adore seeing you covered in blood, that shit's dry and crusty." He threw you your cloak.

"You wanna take a bath... with me?"

"Yes? The fuck are you acting so surprised? I just said I'm in love with you but you're surprised I wanna take a bath with you?"

"You know what, stop talking." You rolled your eyes and got up.

"I think the fuck not."

"Fuck's sake, Hidan, let's go."

"Fuckin' crazy bitch."

#hidan #naruto fic #hidan x reader #hidan x y/n #hidan x you #hidan smut #naruto smut #tw. blood #tw. knives #tw. murder

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quillandink333 · 3 years

Text

Courage

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Vampire!Link AU

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.2k

WARNINGS: blood and gore, near-death experiences, nudity

Summary: In defiance of his creator, Link risks his life over and over as he fights to protect Zelda’s, but then watches his world crumble as she does the same for him.

Masterlist

“Highness!”

An electric arrow flew at her from above. I deflected it in the nick of time, skidding against the rainforest’s damp soil.

The scaly eyes of the monster who’d fired lased into me, just like those of all the rest as they emerged and made themselves known. I hissed, outwitted. We were surrounded, having just walked into the clearing before the Spring of Courage, but we hadn’t been expecting company. And now, there was nowhere to take cover.

One of the unholy creatures leapt out at us from behind. We would’ve been done for if I hadn’t heard its approach in time. I drew my blade and dealt with it swiftly, but this battle was far from won.

The lizalfi were cunning, more so than they appeared. They’d blended in with their surroundings, only revealing themselves when we’d walked straight into the heart of their trap. They were nine, ten...twelve in number, half of them foot soldiers and the rest archers.

“Link...?”

“It’s alright,” I asserted, though I had to admit the validity of my statement was questionable at best. “Just stay close.”

My sword and shield clattered as they hit the ground. “Wait,” she stammered, “what are you—?”

I crouched down and closed my eyes. The image of my enemy’s blackening corpse strewn across the ground beneath me devoured my thoughts and claimed my focus.

Soon enough, my arms turned thin and leathery, my legs melted away, and the corners of my vision were blurred and bloody.

With my new wings, I soared high above the stone pillar.

The monster at its vertex jerked its head up.

I dove down. My body changed shape, and I landed feet-first on top of my victim, causing it to plummet to its doom.

I leapt to the ground, retrieving the sword and finishing it off with one final blow.

“Link—ahh!”

I turned. Time froze when I saw the princess backed up against a tree with two lizalfi closing in on her.

One grabbed her wrist between its claws. My throat clenched in anger.

Thinking quickly, I picked up the bow of the fallen archer and shot an electric arrow right into the nape of her attacker’s neck. It spasmed a few times, letting go of her before collapsing to the ground at her feet, dead.

The other turned its head. In response, I shot a second arrow through its eye socket and into its skull.

But when I reached for another arrow, my hand was seized, and I was pinned to the ground.

The princess screamed out my name as I wrestled with the enemy, but it had me immobilized. I could hear the pitter-patter of the others’ footsteps fast approaching, and saw countless shock arrows wizzing overhead. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t get the damned thing off me.

So I closed my eyes again.

The creature that had been holding me down squawked in confusion. I fluttered out of its grasp with ease. If I still had my face, I would’ve been smirking in triumph.

The archers were still firing away at me, but their aim was off by a mile as always. It was even harder to hit me now that I presented a much smaller and faster target.

Assessing the battle field, I counted three on foot and five ranged remaining. I spotted one try to pick up the sword, jumping back when its hand began to sizzle. I took this chance to shift back and reclaim my weapon.

It didn’t take me long from there to eliminate the three left on the ground. All the while, I was careful to keep Her Highness in my line of sight.

Until one of the archers shifted its aim from me to her.

I raced to her side at once. The arrow flew, and I blocked it with no more than half a second to spare.

Then one of them rushed at us, catching me off-guard.

I swung my sword out, and it leapt back.

I could’ve sworn I’d taken care of all the ones on foot. Could one of the archers have abandoned its post?

“Are you alright?”

The question caught me even more off-guard. “Yes, Princess,” I stuttered, trying to focus on fighting off my opponents. “Get to the spring.”

She nodded and made a break for the stone serpent’s mouth.

Then I heard a low grunt. Her footsteps halted.

Rising to its feet in front of her was none other than a towering, third-class moblin.

Another bolt just barely missed my ankle. It purged me of my paralysis, and I dodged it. I looked back just in time to see the brute raising its club above her.

“Zelda!”

She screamed and darted out of the way. I thanked Ganon for making these boorish behemoths as slow as they were.

“Keep running!” I ordered, blocking another lightning-fast attack. “Don’t look back!”

She was terrified. I heard it in the way she gasped for air as she fled. I should’ve known better than to give way to overconfidence. Now my grip was shaky, my movements frenzied, and I was starting to panic.

I advanced, but the spineless freak just kept leaping back miles out of reach. The three left with bows were still firing away at me. I shouted out in futile aggravation. I’d lost my shield some time ago while transforming, leaving my left side wide open. I could no longer see the princess, though I still heard her frantic footsteps, as well as her pursuer’s.

I had to get back up on my feet somehow, or else her blood truly would be on my hands this time.

I sprinted over to where a bow and quiver full of shock arrows were lying deserted. My opponent, after a moment of standing there in confusion, chased after me.

I turned and thrusted the tip of my blade through its open palm.

It screeched dramatically. This gave me an opening. I grasped it and slashed the creature’s throat open once and for all.

The loud rustling of palm leaves caught the attention of one of the archers.

Standing to the left of the spring’s entrance was the princess, frozen in fear. The black moblin was sluggishly approaching her from behind.

The lizalfos took aim. She gasped and turned around, but then came face-to-face with the pig-snouted giant.

Then she took even me by surprise and ducked between its legs.

The moblin stumbled. Then before it’d had the chance to recover, the archer let loose its arrow, which hit the beast right in its thigh. Lightning surged throughout its lanky form before it collapsed on its front.

I held my breath.

But it got back up again like nothing had happened. Of course that wouldn’t have been enough to kill it, as I had hoped. Soon, it turned back around and continued its dreaded hunt.

I’d missed my chance. “Damn it...” Now it was impossible for me to hit it with the projectiles at my feet, and I had the attention of all three archers back on me.

I picked up the bow and arrows and ran. There had to be some position that was ideal for shooting down the last of these fiends.

I maneuvered across the battlefield until all three of them were in view. They were farther away than I would’ve liked, but this would have to do. Besides, this way I was far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hit me with their inferior aim whilst I pierced their throats one after another.

Finally, the last one fell from its post and into the water below, vanquished.

“Ough!”

I spotted Her Highness, sprawled out on the staircase at the spring’s entrance. She must have tripped on her way down.

Time stopped, yet again, as the monster emerged from the shadows, poised to strike.

The defenceless princess didn’t so much as scream, merely watching her fate unfold in complete, mortal terror.

The beast swung its mace.

I nearly tripped myself as I leapt in front of her, parrying the death blow, but just barely.

The enemy staggered back. I charged forward.

My aim was true.

The blade cleaved clean through its torso, exiting out through its backside. Its thick, black ichor sprayed all over my arm when I took it out. The beast fell to the ancient pavement slowly and heavily, shaking the earth as it landed.

My chest was heaving violently. By the time I looked down, the gore staining the sword had already burned away. Arms shaking in exhaustion, I returned it to its sheath, wiping the sweat from my brow.

“Link...”

I swivelled when the princess’ frail voice called me. She hadn’t moved from her position on the steps, twisting at the waist to look up and face me. She seemed just as drained as I felt, if not more so. Other than that, though, she hadn’t sustained any serious injuries from what I could see. All she had were a few small scrapes and bruises here and there.

Then it hit me. The front of her white dress was sopping wet, and I’d been staring at her for well over a minute. I immediately averted my gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment crawl beneath my skin.

“What?” she worried. “What’s the matter?”

Without looking, I cleared my throat suggestively. When that evidently hadn’t gotten the message across, I muttered, “You’re drenched.”

“Ah...” She looked down, noticing the exposed state she was in. “I just...fell into the spring a couple of times,” she blushed. “You don’t have to look away, though. I-I trust you.”

There was that phrase again. That utterly ridiculous phrase that she’d been using with me for the past month or so.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out my hand to help her to her feet.

The few drops of sacred spring water left on her palm hissed softly as they made contact with my skin. I winced. The pain was small, but excruciating.

“Oh my Goddess,” she gasped, loosening her grasp on my hand and poring over it. A few small cracks had formed in my palm, from which a few wisps of smoke had risen. “I’m so sorry,” she deliberated. “Are you alright? Do you need—”

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” I interrupted, gripping her fingers gently in demonstration. She looked up at me, uncertainty lingering in her expression, then back at my hand.

My own gaze landed on her wrist. Through the intricate metalwork of her wristband, an array of three puncture wounds, each secreting thin threads of dark red, could be seen. The memory of the monster’s filthy talons penetrating her precious, delicate skin flashed through my mind’s eye.

I cursed quietly. Once again, my infernal hate had taken hold of me and obstructed my ability to fulfill my sworn duty to her. I’d tried to fight it, but it was inescapable. I bit my lip, swallowing back a sigh. The worst part of it all was how I now found myself struggling to tear my eyes away from the blood seeping out of her wounds, further proving that I was no different from the monsters from which I was trying my hardest to protect her.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again, tone tender and brimming with warmth. I nodded; it was all I could bring myself to do.

It was not my place to listen in on her prayer. However it was difficult not to when she was such a short distance away. Tuning her out was quite the challenge, as soft-spoken as she tended to be during these rituals of hers. Besides, I couldn’t help but be intrigued.

The things she spoke to the Goddess about were shocking to me. I hadn’t the slightest clue about how formal or intimate one was expected to be when speaking with Her, but the princess seemed to have no qualms with confiding in Her just about anything. Once, during one of these pilgrimages, she’d even confessed to Her that I was in fact a day keese. It was likely that She’d already known this about me, but even so, if I’d ever been so obscenely foolhardy as to confess my betrayal of Lord Ganon to His own face, I would’ve been stricken down on the spot.

After a while, it became apparent to me that the princess had gone quiet. This was more than a little unsettling. I kept my back turned respectfully, but kept my ears trained just the same.

Splosh

My heart sank. I turned around, just in time to see her hand fall below the surface of the water.

I didn’t think twice before diving in after her.

The water penetrated my clothes the instant I stepped in. It went up to my knees. I couldn’t withhold my wail of blinding agony. My legs were like sandcastles, and the spring, a riptide.

It took every sliver of strength left in my body to reach the princess. By the time I had her safe in my arms, I could no longer feel my feet. There was no way I could get her back to dry land by carrying her. The one choice I had left was to hurl her unmoving form as far as I could and hope for the best. So, with a silent apology, that’s just what I did.

I was forced to crawl my way back to dry land; I no longer had the physical capacity to remain standing. To my immense relief, she was there on the concrete, safe and breathing.

Until now, I hadn’t had the chance to truly feel the searing pain consuming what remained of my body. My flesh was cracked and crumbling, and the water had soaked through each little crevice deep into my brittle constitution. If I wasn’t careful, my body would’ve lost any resemblance to a Hylian it had left.

When it had become strenuous to continue drawing breath, I realized I wasn’t long for this world. And yet, as I gazed upon the princess’ unmoving form whilst my surroundings faded to black, I smiled. At long last, I could bid farewell to this dastardly life of mine.

I awoke with a slight weight on my chest and a warm, bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. A series of coughs wracked my already broken body as the familiar liquid ran slowly down my throat. I opened my eyes.

“Link...?”

The face that greeted me was veiled in heavenly, golden light. I squinted. For a moment, I was certain I was looking straight into the eyes of an angel. Then my vision adjusted. Of course, I realized, no angel would ever shine half as brightly as she.

Her hand, planted firmly at the back of my head, encouraged it forward, until my lips sealed shakily around the weeping slit in her neck once again. As I drank obediently, I began wondering if she’d made the incision herself. Something about it felt sickeningly wrong. Even so, I was too numb, too fatigued, and too delirious to do anything about it.

I regained consciousness gradually, becoming more and more aware of our situation as she slid down my throat one swallow at a time. Her blood was like finely aged wine, pleasantly burning my insides as it went down. All the while, I could feel my body recovering its structure. The cracks and chips littering my skin dissolved one by one, and before long, my legs had pieced themselves back together. Now I could feel the cool mists of Faron, as well as the warmth of her bare flesh, clinging to my own.

It was around that time that I finally came to my senses. My tongue traced over the smooth edges of the lesion, making her tense up against me. I jerked back.

For the first time since waking, I was able to get a good look at her neck. The cut was fairly small, but the way it gaped and pulsed—staring back at me and perceiving each and every one of my innermost thoughts like the all-seeing eyes of our Father—forced me to look away. I could hear His petrifying voice even then.

I let my fearful gaze meander, coming across her and my clothes, which were still damp with spring water from the looks of it. Then my eyes landed on my sword, lying unsheathed on the pavement a few feet away. A corner of its blade was stained with crimson.

I shed a silent tear. “Why...?”

“‘Why?’” she rowed, teeth clenched, clearly in pain. “You wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t done this! And yet...you’re still asking me why?”

I opened my mouth, but found myself speechless. No matter how much I wanted to just look her in the eyes and tell her everything that weighed on my mind, I couldn’t. What good would it do to resent her for this? It was already too late.

“How could you throw your life away like that?” she stabbed. “You knew your body couldn’t take it, surely.”

I risked another glance at her neck, watching as it gushed out rivers of blood with no sign of stopping. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Because I love you, Link!”

My eyes widened. I looked up at her, desperately clinging to the possibility that this was some kind of joke. “What...?”

“I love you.”

So I had heard her correctly. “No...” I muttered, gently shaking my head. “N-no, take it back.” My fingers clamped around her arm. “Please...”

“But it’s true,” she cried, voice breaking. “I think about you every moment I live and breathe, and I can’t bare the thought of losing you.” Her tone made it clear that this was no joke. “I would rather die.”

I’d thought I had felt the most pain I ever would’ve felt when I’d thrown myself into the spring moments ago. But the crushing anguish brought on by those words was so unfathomable that I never could’ve imagined it until now.

“Link...” She cupped my cheeks in her delicate palms. The way she looked at me, eyes glistening behind a watery film and voice barely above a whisper, was just another twist of the knife. “Why won’t you say anything?”

I choked, giving way to an unstoppable wave of tears and hysterical sobbing. “Because,” I whimpered pathetically, “I don’t deserve...‘love.’” I was crying into my hands as she lay across my bare front, shaking almost imperceptibly. “H-how could—how could someone such as I ever love you back...?”

As she began weeping freely into my shoulder, I felt another even greater surge of tears swell up and out of me. All I ever did was hurt her. It was made worse when I thought about how, even if I hadn’t been born the demon that I was, I still wouldn’t have had the chance to be with her. In the end, Lord Ganon would kill us all either way. Why had I even been created in the first place? What was the point in letting me learn what happiness was before forcefully tearing it out of my grasp?

I clutched onto her with all my might for no reason other than that she was there. She held me tighter.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #link pov #vampire au #day keese au #vampire!link au #day-keese!link au

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truecrimesstuff · 3 years

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The Columbine High School Massacre:

Columbine High School is a public school situated in Columbine, Colorado, United States. It was the place where one of the deadliest mass shootings of 20th century United States history occurred.

Columbine High School in Littleton, Columbine.

The day was April 20, 1999, and was a normal Tuesday for the students and faculty of Columbine High, who had absolutely no idea the nightmarish things that the day had in store. Referred to mostly as the Columbine High School Massacre, it unfolded as two 17 year olds namely Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris attempted to detonate a bomb and went on a shooting spree that resulted in 13 deaths and 20 others severely injured.

Eric Harris, one of the perpetrators.

According to reports, Harris and Klebold became friends during seventh grade and were considered inseparable as seniors. Though there were speculations that they conducted this massacre as they were subjected to bullying and remained isolated most of the time, these claims were later said to be untrue by many of their classmates and Dylan's mother herself who claimed that Dylan had a small circle of friends of which Eric was only one. Klebold and Harris had started planning for the massacre from a year prior and had acquired two 9mm firearms and a further two 12 gauge shotguns. In addition to the firearms, the two teens had also constructed improvised explosives with the help of the internet and an infamous book named "The Anarchist Cookbook." Together they constructed a total of 99 bombs including Pipe bombs, Molotov Cocktails, Crickets, Propane tanks converted into bombs, and many others. Harris and Klebold's actual motive isn't properly known but they planned and hoped the massacre would cause the most number of deaths in U.S. history, which then meant exceeding the death toll of the Oklahoma City bombing.

Dylan Klebold, another perpetrator.

On that infamous day, Eric and Dylan arrived at school in different cars at a little past 11:00 A.M. They then parked their respective cars in separate locations. They had already planted bombs at a distance from school which they thought would act as distractions, they had further improvised their cars into explosives and had also planted bombs in the cafeteria. These homemade bombs had the potential to kill and injure everyone who was near. But except for one bomb which was planted as a distraction at a distance from the school, all the other bombs failed to detonate. When the bombs failed, Harris and Klebold who had armed themselves with firearms hiding under the black trench coats that they had worn to school that day, prepared themselves for their ultimate act.

The ones first to be tragically targeted by the perpetrators were two 17-year-old students named Rachel Scott and Richard Castaldo, sitting at the west entrance to the school and eating lunch. Dylan Klebold who was approaching them threw a pipe bomb at the parking lot which only partially detonated giving out smoke making onlookers believe it was just a stupid prank. Without wasting much time, Harris shot Scott four times killing her instantly, while Castaldo was shot eight times in the chest, hand, and abdomen leaving him paralyzed from the chest down.

Eric then pointed his gun at three students who were standing at the stairs down West Entrance. Those three were: Daniel Rohrbough, Sean Graves, and Lance Kirklin. Harris fired at them, instantly killing Rohrbough and severely injuring Graves and Kirklin.

They then targetted five students sitting on the hillside grass at a distance from the West entrance. Of the five three escaped without any injury, while one named Mark Taylor was shot in the chest, arms, and legs and feigned death to escape while one other student named Michael Johnson was shot at his face, leg, and arm but was able to run and escape the shooters.

The two boys then walked inside the West entrance. Klebold went inside the Cafeteria but didn't shoot at any of the students who were already inside. Meantime, Harris started shooting at Anne Marie Hochhalter who was trying to flee, which severely wounded and paralyzed her. Klebold came out of the cafeteria and accompanied Harris up the stairs all the way shooting at students and throwing pipe bombs which didn't detonate properly. Several witnesses heard them say "This is what we always wanted to do. This is awesome."

At 11:22 A.M a custodian called the assigned resources officer to Colombine, Neil Gardner to assist an injury in the senior parking lot. At 11:24 as he was exiting his car, he heard another call on the school radio informing him about the shooters. At the same time, Harris who was at the West entrance turned and fired shots at Gardner who fired back. No one was injured in this firing and Neil immediately reported on his police radio regarding the ongoing shooting. The shooters then started walking through the North hallway shooting anyone and everyone they encounter. Klebold shot Stephanie Munson at the ankle but she escaped the school without any further injury.

By this time six deputies had also arrived and were trying to assist the wounded at the entrances when Harris again came back and tried firing at them. The authorities fired back at him and he retreated inside the building. No one was injured in this gun battle.

Dave Sanders, a teacher, and coach at the school along with two custodians named Joe Curtis and Jay Gallatine initially told students in the cafeteria to remain under the tables, thereby saving many lives. After some time they tried to evacuate students up the staircase into the second floor. The stairs were located in the Main South hallway where unfortunately Harris and Klebold were heading from the North Hallway. Sanders and the students encountered them face to face. They fired shots that hit Sanders twice in the neck and back but missed the students. The students ran into a science classroom while Sanders remained unconscious at that very place and later when gained some consciousness crawled into the science area where a teacher brought him into a class with 30 students. The teacher also brought in Aaron Hancey, a student with some knowledge of first aid from another classroom even when the commotion was ongoing behind them. With the help of a teacher named Teresa Miller and another fellow student Kevin Starkey, Aaron Hancey administered first aid to Sanders and was able to keep him alive for three hours.

Harris and Klebold now entered the library where 52 students along with two teachers and two librarians were hiding. Harris fired his shotgun at a desk and a student Evan Todd was hit in the eye and back by wood splinters but wasn't severely injured. They then walked towards the two rows of computers where Kyle Velasquez, a disabled student was sitting. Velasquez was shot in the head and back and died at spot. While shooting at the roof and glass panes they were saying how long they had been waiting for this and it seemed as if they were enjoying themselves and even were heard shouting things like, "Yahoo!". They were also asking the students to stand up by themselves as the library was about to explode anyway but no one did.

Klebold removed his trench coat and fired at a table nearby which injured three students named Daniel Steepelton, Patrick Ireland, and Makai Hall who were hiding under it. As Harris moved away, Ireland who was himself injured tried to assist Hall whose neck was severely wounded. While doing so, Ireland's head slightly raised above his table and Klebold shot him twice in the head but he ended up surviving. Harris instead walked down the computer rows and shot under a table, which hit a 14-year-old Steven Curnow on the neck and he later succumbed to his injury. He then fired at the adjacent table under which 17-year-old Kacey Ruegsegger was hiding. The bullet that hit her severed a major artery and went completely past her shoulder.

Harris then moved to another computer table with two students named Casey Barnall and Emily Wyant who were hiding under it. He taunted them initially and later on shot Barnall on her head, thereby killing her on the spot. At this time, Harris's gun had recoiled and hit him on his face and the students recall seeing him with blood around his nose and mouth.

Dylan Klebold too set into momentum and started going around the tables. Under one table he found 18-year-old Isaiah Shoels, 16-year-old Matthew Kechter, and 16-year-old Craig Scott who was also the brother of Rachel Scott, the first victim of the massacre. Klebold taunted Isaiah Shoels with derogatory racial remarks and was later on joined by Harris. Both the shooters fired under the table. Harris shot Isaiah Shoels in the chest and killed him while Klebold shot Matthew Kechter who was also later found dead. Scott was left uninjured in the blood of his friends and he tried to feign death.

The shooters then moved towards the east side of the library and Klebold shot at a nearby table injuring an a 17-year-old Mark Kintgen in the head and shoulder. He then turned to another table and fired shots injuring 17-year-old Lauren Townsend, Valeen Schnurr, and Lisa Kreutz. Townsend died on the spot.

The shooters moved from table to table searching for people to kill. Harris moved to a table that hid 16-year-old Nicole Nowlen and John Tomlin, he shot at them twice. It was reported that Tomlin who moved out of the table after his injury was shot repeatedly by Klebold which ultimately killed him. A 16-year-old Kelly Flaming was huddled next to a table and not directly under it due to lack of space. Harris fired from behind her and hit her on the back, killing her. He kept shooting in her direction which later injured 18-year-old Jeanna Park.

The perpetrators then moved to the central part of the library where they spread their weapons on a table. Harris didn't stop even now and fired at a table, which injured 15-year old Daniel Mauser in his ear and hand. Mauser tried to defend himself by shoving a chair at Harris who in turn fired another shot point-blank at Mauser's face killing him. They again shot some students under a table at the south side of the library severely injuring three 17 year-old students Austin Eubanks, Jennifer Doyle, and Corey DePooter. DePooter succumbed to his injuries and was declared dead. Many heard Klebold tell Harris about knifing some students but they didn't implement it.

The victims of the massacre.

Both the shooters walked out of the library at 11:36 A.M. After they had left, the injured along with the uninjured students and faculty started carefully evacuating the library through the North Entrance. Craig Scott helped Casey Ruegsegger leave the library which ultimately saved her life. Patrick Ireland who was unconscious and Lisa Kreutz who was unable to move had to be left behind.

Klebold and Harris aimlessly walked around the school firing shots in the air moving from the cafeteria to the hallways. At 12:00 P.M they re-entered the library which was now empty except for those injured. At about 12:02 P.M, they engaged in another gun battle with the police through the library windows. At 12:08 P.M both the shooters pointed the guns to their heads and took their own lives

The infamous photo of Harris and Klebold in the cafeteria 8-10 minutes before their suicide.

SWAT teams were stationed outside the school at about 12:00 P.M. At 1:00 P.M two squads moved inside the school looking from classroom to classroom for survivors and dead bodies. At 2:38 P.M a partially paralyzed Patrick Ireland crawled from under the table where he had laid unconscious and dangled out of the window with a hope to fall on the arms of the SWAT team members but instead landed painfully on the roof of a vehicle. The authorities were severely criticized for this incident. At 2:40 P.M the authorities found the room full of students in the science area along with the severely wounded Dave Sanders. By 3:00 P.M Sanders was moved to a more accessible room by the SWAT team and a paramedic was rushed in who later declared that Sanders had no pulse. Patti Nielson, an art teacher hiding in the adjacent room to the library, and Lisa Kreutz who was left bleeding in the library was later evacuated at 3:22 P.M with four others. The authorities discovered the bodies of the perpetrators in the library at 3:30 P.M. The total death count was 15 along with the perpetrators and another 24 were critically injured.

At 5:30 P.M bomb squads were called in due to the numerous explosives found around the school and they were successful in disposing of the bombs along with those the shooters had attached to their cars. On 21 April 1999 at about 10:00 A.M the bomb squad declared the school to be safe for officials to enter. On April 22, the officials discovered the bombs in the cafeteria. USA Today referred to the Columbine massacre as "planned as a grand, if badly implemented, terrorist bombing."

In the aftermath, classes at Columbine were held at the nearby Chatfield Senior High for the last three weeks of the school year. In August 1999 students returned to the school which had undergone some renovations. Many faculty and students developed PTSD and a 17-year-old student named Greg Barnes who witnessed Sanders death committed suicide in May 2000.

Later on it was found that both Harris and Klebold had kept regular journals where they had written about their plans of the massacre. Moreover, they kept tapes detailing their plans and reasons for the massacre. Since most of them were shot in the Harris's house basement, the tapes were called Basement Tapes. Examining these tapes and journal entries, many experienced personnels as well as the FBI concluded that the killers were victims of some mental illnesses. Harris was claimed to be a clinical psychopath with a messianic level superiority complex and Klebold was depressive and was also claimed to be schizotypal according to some other professionals. Harris was later given the title of the mastermind behind the attack and Klebold was seen as someone who used the massacre to end his life. Most people have varying views on this.

After the Columbine High School Massacre, many US schools enacted zero-tolerance rules regarding provoking or threatening behavior of any type. Mark Manes, the person who was later found to have sold a gun to Eric Harris along with ammunition was sentenced to 6 years in prison, along with another man named Philip Duran, who introduced him to Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. In subsequent times, the Columbine shooting influenced many other school shootings across the USA. Fear of similar events arising led to sometimes closing down of entire districts. Ralph Lurkin who examined twelve major school shootings said that in eight of those the perpetrators made direct reference to Columbine shooting along with Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold.

After the attacks, the police authorities was severely criticised over the slow response and progress of the SWAT teams during the shooting and police departments reassessed their tactics and now train for Columbine-like situations after criticism.

Picture Courtesy: Pinterest.

#true crime #columbine school shooting

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spcncershybrid · 4 years

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Vacation?- Spencer Reid Imagine

GIF IS NOT MINE

SPENCER REID X READER

request: hiii 🥰could I get a Spencer x reader? Where they work at the BAU together and are very close. The team knows somethings up but don’t say anything. They assume nothing is going to happen until they get assigned to go undercover together as a traveling couple to try to get the attention of the unsub. But it doesn’t work and they have fun in their small “vacation”. Please and thank you 🥰🥰🥰)

(Summary:Being one of the youngest in the BAU has it’s perks until you and your crush are roped into becoming bad guy bait.)

(A/N: This was my first ever request! Also the whole vacation portion may be inaccurate because I’ve never really been on a vacation. Also sorry if the ending seems rushed I had no idea what to do for it.)

I enter the bullpen, tossing my bag onto the swivel chair. “Hey, how was your little date with Spence?” JJ asks, walking up to me popping a hot cheeto into her mouth. “First of all it wasn’t a date, second of all Jayje it’s like 10AM why are you eating hot cheetos?” I ask her laughing. “Don’t question my choices.” She says jokingly shoving a finger to my chest. Penelope walks up to the both of us pouting, I automatically know why. “Case?” I question as Pen nods sadly. “Is it bad?” I ask as JJ and I follow her to the debriefing room. “Totally.” Penelope says grabbing her remote. I take my usual spot next to Spencer as Penelope gives us all our case files and tablets. “My fine BAU babes this case give love a total bad , I mean bad name.” Pen says emphasizing the word bad. “Five couples between the ages 25-30 were found dead in a remote location in Honolulu, Hawaii. All victims were found with suitcases in their car trunks and were also dressed in vacation-esk outfits.” Pen says flipping through the crime scene photos. “Yikes so much for a vacation.” I say cringing slightly. “The first two couples, Carly Burgess and Ian Woods, Violet Wade and Zach Kane, were all found with gunshot wounds to the head.” Garcia says cringing slightly at the gruesome photos. “The next two were married couples. Amber and Owen Meyers, and Emelia and Adam Kelley. They all had their throats slashed.” Garcia states. “And what are the last two Pen? What category do they fit in?” I ask, flipping through the file. “That BAU baby is the kind of couple but not really a couple. They were Lisa Mitchell and Raphael Kelley, they were found with both things. Lisa had the gunshot wound to the head and Raphael had his throat slashed.” She says ending the slideshow. “According to the police station that’s handling this they were all taken and held within the span of 10 days.” Spencer says. I nod over to him. “What would he be doing in that ten day time frame?” I ask aloud. “The unsub could be a sadist. Killing the victims in such a gruesome way can get him off?” Morgan says questioningly. “All that in a span of ten days this is one sick unsub.” I say emphasizing the word sick. “It’s only the beginning for this unsub. Wheel’s up in 20.” Hotch says standing up and heading out the room. I start to gather my things to leave. “You want to be jet seat buddies?” Spencer says tugging his satchel strap. “Last time we were jet seat buddies Spencer we argued on tv show facts. I’m pretty sure Hotch is banning us from sitting next to each other ever again.” I say laughing as we head towards my desk to grab my go bag. I catch JJ and Morgan smirking at Spencer and I, I glare at them slightly as I grab my go bag from under my desk. Spencer and I walk towards the elevator. “Crap you go ahead I need to get my file. I left it on my desk.” I curse slightly at my forgetful nature. “You can warm my jet seat.” I say pointing to Spencer as I back watching the elevator doors close. “Hey glary.” Derek says placing his arm around my shoulder. “Hey muscly.” I say laughing. “You and I both know your case files in your bag so why are you really back here.” Derek says crossing his arms. I smirk slightly knowing he’s right. “Okay fine I didn’t want to share the elevator with Reid.” I say turning away from him. “Well I heard from a little blonde birdie that you have a crush on the genius.” He says laughing slightly. “Remind me to never drink with Penelope or JJ again.” I say pursing my lips together. “And it isn’t a crush it’s an... infatuation. Plus it’s not like he’ll give the time of day ever.” I say sadly. “How would you know?” Derek says heading towards the elevator. “Because although we all agreed not to profile the team he doesn’t seem interested in me in the slightest.” I say walking with him to the elevator. “What if we hatch a plan?” He asks as we step into the elevator. “No way Morgan. That can put me in a way worse situation than I want.” I say sighing softly. “Okay that’s your call.” He says shrugging. What is he up to?

“Thanks for warming the seat.” I tell Spencer as Morgan and I enter the jet. “No problem.” He says staring at me as I set my things down. “What?” I ask, catching his gaze. “Nothing Y/N.” He says going back to reading the case file. “Alright Garcia tell us what you’ve found so far.” Hotch says entering the seating area near the laptop screen. “Well my mystical magicians, none of the coupled pairs have a sketchy history. No criminal offences, these people are squeaky clean.” She answers. “There was no shift in M.O, victimology is a bit sketchy but again these are couples.” JJ says tilting her head. “This may be a longshot but what if our unsub works at a resort and these victims aren’t necessarily premeditated but more victims of opportunity.” I say aloud. “That could make sense, think about it you guys. Five couples seemingly in love, and going on an amazing vacation. Our unsub can have a failing relationship!” I exclaim looking over the file patterns. “That can make sense if our unsub sees these couples he can wait and watch for the perfect opportunity to strike. The ten day cycle can make sense with the schedule of the victims' stay.” Spencer says. “Okay when we land JJ you and Morgan can go to the crime scenes. Reid and Y/L/N can go to the M.E to see if you can find anything else. Prentiss you, Rossi and I can go set up at the station.” Hotch orders. We all nod at him.

________________________

“Sucks that were not here for a vacation. We can all use one.” I tell Spencer as we enter the M.E’s office. “Agreed.” He says opening the door in front of us. “Hi we are SSA Y/L/N and Dr. Reid with the FBI. Do you potentially have anything extra for us?” I say greeting her while sticking out my hand. “Hi.” She greets back shaking my hand and waving at Spencer. “I found some things that were consistent following the deaths of the victims.” She starts and grabs a file. “They all ate what seems to be some sort of meat, potentially chicken, and rice.” She says, showing us on the sheet. “So they all ate the same thing before they died?” I question rhetorically. “Following that victim Lisa Mitchell also sustained blunt force trauma but it seems to be post mortem. Also there are faint ligature marks on the victims wrists.” She says showing us her body. “So he striked her after he shot her?” Spencer asks. “Seems so.” The M.E says closing the file. “Let’s go to the station and see what they have so far.” I say to Spencer. We exit the M.E’s office and enter the van. “That’s weird that he struck her after he killed her.” I say fastening my seatbelt. “But what’s even weirder is that they all ate the same thing. We have a much bigger suspect pool than we originally anticipated.” I say as I drive off to the local police station.

________________________

Spencer and I enter the station and are greeted by Hotch and the sheriff. “This is SSA Y/L/N and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Hotch introduces us. I shook the man's hand and headed over to the team.”So when we were at the M.E’s the stomach contents of all the victims were the same and there were some ligature marks on the victims.” Spencer says walking up to the board. “And Lisa Mitchell was struck in the head after she was shot.” I continue. “We were discussing before you guys got here what things we can do to catch our unsub.” Derek says, smirking slightly. “Two members of the team should go undercover and pose as a couple wanting to go on vacation.” Emily says. “So who did you guys have in mind?” Spencer asks. “You two.” Derek says pointing at the both of us.”Us?” Spencer and I ask in unison before looking at each other. “The both of you fit the preferred age range of the unsub.” Derek justifies. I hum tilting my head. “He’s right the both of you would be perfect targets.” JJ says smiling softly at the both of us. “I’m okay with it. Are you?” I ask Spencer. “Yeah when do we start this?” He asks. “Tomorrow morning. We’ll get the both of you settled tomorrow and give the rundown on catching this unsub.” Hotch says as we all continue to work on the case. I look over to Spencer who seems nervous or angry. Does he not want to do this? Later in the evening we go back to our hotel and relax for the night.

________________________

“Are you ready for this?” I ask Spencer as we all head to the police station. “Yeah I guess.” He shrugs off the question. I stare out the window sighing softly. Am I ready? We park and step out of the vehicle. We all enter the police station and greet the officers. I head over to the water dispenser and grab a cup. I walk over to the room we set up in. “What’s the plan?” I ask aloud sipping my water. “Both you and Spencer will check into the hotel. You’ll both just have your cell phones as ear pieces can be semi noticeable.” Hotch says handing Spencer and I a duffle bag. “Those are clothes for the trip.” JJ says. I nod towards her. “So that’s settled we’ll drive you to the hotel now to change into warmer clothes.” Derek says tossing keys up into the air. We head outside and enter the van, driving over to the team's hotel. I open Spencer and I’s room, I immediately head to the bathroom to change. I walk out seeing Spencer already dressed in his typical tropical shirt with khaki pants. “Nice legs Reid.” I say laughing. He chuckles softly turning towards me. “Well nice-” Spencer starts but gets cut off by Derek’s knocking. “Are you two done or should I come back later?” Derek says behind the door. I open the door letting Derek inside. “Hey kid nice legs.” Derek says pointing to Spencer. “I know I said the same thing.” I say laughing. “We need to go now if we want to make it on the unsub’s time frame.” Spencer says looking at his phone. I grab my duffle bag and we all set out to the other hotel.

________________________

“Remember to act like a couple.” Derek says rolling up his windows before driving off. “You ready hun.” I say grabbing Spencer’s hand, fear immediately washing away. “Yes my love.” He says smiling as he squeezes my hand softly. We head over to the front desk. “Rooms for Reid.” Spencer says showing his FBI credentials. The receptionist nods and gives us keys. “Hotch told me to show my credentials instead of my personal I.D. He talked to the receptionist before we got here so we can get a good room to also work from.” Spencer says as we enter the room. “Okay so what do we do first?” I ask confused on what to do. “We can go get food first. It’s 3PM this can be our unsubs hit hour.” Spencer suggests. “Yeah let’s go.” I say opening the door. We head downstairs hand in hand and walk over to the food area. “What should we get babe?” Spencer asks. “Not sure.” I say pouting. “I’ll go around and order something.” He says walking in front of me. “Spence, wait up I’m shorter.” I say laughing slightly catching up to him. “Sorry. Here hold my hand so you don’t get lost.” He says extending his hands to me. I grab it smiling at him. We head into the hotel's restaurant and sit down. “The pasta seems good.” I say. “But you know what would be even better?” Spencer asks rhetorically. “A meat substance with white grains?” I question back. A waiter walks over to us. “Hi what can I get the two of you this evening?” He asks, smiling at the both of us. “What would you suggest? My boyfriend here can never choose good options.” I say smiling over to Spencer. “Ignore her we’ll both take the chicken and rice.” He says handing the waiter his menu. “Any drinks?” The waiter asks taking the menus. “Water would be fine for us both.” Spencer says smiling towards me. The waiter nods walking away. “Boyfriend really?” Spencer says leaning over towards me. “Would you have preferred girlfriend?” I say sarcastically. He sucks his teeth blushing lightly. The things I would do to see that everyday. Spencer's phone starts ringing, startling me. “Yes Hotch?” Spencer asks, picking up the phone. “What?” He asks again. “Okay thanks.” He says before hanging up the phone. “The unsub kidnapped another couple. Our time frame was off. Hotch says we can stay on this fake vacation just in case it's a team or two unsubs.” He says leaning forward. I nod towards him. “So we stay on this vacation while the rest of the team is on the field?” I asked him. “Yes.” He says quickly as the waiter drops off our food and waters. “What if it’s one unsub?” I whisper as the waiter walks away. “Then I guess we’ll have a normal vacation.” He says as he starts eating. I hum in response as I start eating too.

________________________

“Guys we caught the unsub.” Derek's voice booms through the phone as Spencer puts it on speaker. “What!” Spencer and I exclaim in unison. Spencer and I look over at each other and enter our shared room. “I thought you guys profiled it might have been a team.” I say throwing my bag onto my bed. “We were wrong. Hotch said you guys can stay on the vacation for the duration of the hotel stay.” Derek says. “Morgan that’s like what a week.” Spencer says. “You don't want to spend the rest of the trip with your crush?” Derek says quickly before the line goes silent. “Morgan?” I ask seeing the color drain from Spencer’s face. I hear a faint whisper of the word ‘sorry’ before he hangs up. I glance up at Spencer, his eyes meeting mine. “I get it if you only want to be friends because of the whole fraternization thing at the BAU.” Spencer says quickly as he shoves his phone into his pocket. “Well that’ll be kind of awkward seeing as I like you too Spence.” I say smiling softly at his shocked expression. “What?” He asks, breaking out of his shocked face. “You like me but why?” He asks. “I can ask the same thing.” I say smirking slightly. He smiles wide as he scratches the back of his neck. “Would you maybe want to go out sometime?” Spencer says shyly. “Of course Spencer now can we please have the vacation we were dying for.” I say plopping onto my bed. “Yes babe.” He says sitting on his bed making plans for our next adventure.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine

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wylanvnneck · 3 years

Text

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Part 1

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“Victim’s name is Taryn Santorini, a metal sculptor by trade, she was found by her doorman fifteen minutes before we traced the address in Chloe’s hand back to her.”

Detective Jude Duarte looks down at the motionless face of a scared looking brunette, a crimson splatter painting the tiled floor around her lifeless body. The room around her is a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, bed ruffled and unmade and metal figurines placed haphazardly throughout the little apartment.

“Lil, talk to me, what are we looking at?”

Before the white-blonde haired medical examiner crouched on the floor by the body can answer, a smooth dark voice that Jude so detests cuts through the air behind her.

“Why, Duarte, I’d say that the fact that Tara What’s-her-name was shot and killed is rather obvious.” The despicable excuse of a detective steps forward, a smug grin pasted to his face. Cardan Greenbriar, entitled little rich boy, over-confident bastard and sadly, her partner.

Patience, Jude reminds herself, patience was a virtue.

“I meant, as I’m sure Lil knows, with what model was she killed and when?”

Liliver shoots her an amused sympathetic look before turning her gaze back to the victim.

“Looks to be a gun with a 45 caliber, same as the one used to kill Chloe Tatterfell. I’d say Taryn here has been dead for about 12 hours so pretty close to Chloe’s time of death, maybe just a half hour or so afterwards.”

“So chances are it’s the same killer.” Cardan interjects, the smug smile a little less vibrant now.

“Yep. I’ll have to get her back to the morgue so I can do a full inspection, see if I can find anything helpful.”

Jude steps back from the crime scene to give her some space, almost bumping in to the officer taking pictures of the area for later use.

“Thanks, Lil.”

“Just doing my job, sweetie.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jude clips a glossy picture of their latest victim onto the precinct’s murder board. “Garrett and Van questioned practically all known associates of both Chloe and Taryn and none of them could recognise the other victim. There’s no obvious connection between the two and yet, for some reason they were both killed on the same day, by the same person.”

“And with the same gun.” Cardan is leaning back in his chair, his posture insouciant and his curly black hair falling lazily over his forehead. Surely that was a violation of precinct dress codes? Not that he’d care either way, rule breaker that he was. God knew it was only because of his daddy’s clout that he’d even graduated from the academy in the first place, whilst people like Jude had to work hard and save every penny and fight to get anywhere in the field of Law Enforcement.

“Ok, I’m going to head to the morgue whilst Van and Gare check through the victim’s phones and financials, see if Lil has anything for us.”

“I suppose, being the dutiful partner that I am, I should come with you?” Cardan’s drawl is as irritating as usual and Jude can hardly wait to get out of the proximity of his stupid raven locks and smoldering eyes.

“Please, you’d be doing us both a favour if you didn’t.”

“Aw, come now Jude you know you’d miss me.” He lets out a dramatic sigh as he half heartedly stands from his chair to join her as she speeds by towards the exit and she just barely resists the urge to throttle him.

Lil bustles around her examining room as she adjusts the fluorescent lamps shining down on both the victim’s bodies’.

“So, apart from the type of bullets that killed them, the only similarity that I could find between the two victims is the fact that they both have tattoos.”

Jude raises a brow. “Everyone has tattoos.”

From across the autopsy table Cardan’s eyes gleam as he smirks.

“Oh really? You got some ink on you, Duarte?”

His tone is disbelieving and Jude can’t resist messing with him a little.

She pastes an obviously fake flirtatious smile on her face and drawls in a sugar sweet voice, “Guess you’d have to find that out on your own, Greenbriar.”

She bites at her lip for good measure and thinks once more of how bad she would be at flirting in earnest. Lil certainly couldn’t keep the laughter out of her gray eyes. Cardan, however, has a strange look on his face, one that Jude can’t quite decipher, but she’s pretty sure she’s just one-upped him and she can’t deny the slight sense of triumph that the thought gives her.

She turns her attention back to the victims. “You were saying, Lil?”

“I’m saying that these tattoos seem to have been done by the same artist. Look,” she pulls back the white cloth covering the body of Chloe Tatterfell, gently pushing a strand of brown hair off of her shoulder to reveal the cartoonish character of a rose, inked in with dark black ink.

She then turns to Taryn’s body to reveal a similarly styled tattoo of a mermaid on her wrist. Just as she’s pulling back the cover Jude’s back pocket vibrates and the sound of her plain ringtone travels through the air. Quickly she swipes upwards to answer the call and it’s Garrett.

“Yo, so we looked through the victims’ phone records and found a connection. Both Chloe and Taryn made a phone call on the day that they were killed to the same number, belonging to a Locke McCutchins, he’s got priors including robberies and domestic assault.”

By the time he’s finished speaking she’s already waved a quick goodbye to Lil and turned to walk out the door, not bothering to check if her partner was behind her.

“Alright, text me his address, let’s go pick him up.”

“Locke McCutchins, open up, it’s the NYPD!” Garrett bangs on the door and the force is so strong that the wood vibrates as Jude clutches her pistol in her hand, body flat against the wall of Locke’s apartment with Cardan right beside her.

There’s no answer and the door is broken down as she, Cardan, Garrett and Van file into the room in a practiced motion that’s as familiar to her as breathing.

Right in front of them, sprawled across his couch, lies the dead body of Locke McCutchin, his tawny eyes still open and gazing unseeingly up at his ceiling, a dried red patch visible on his shirt.

Garret drops to the floor beside the couch, his sandy hair falling over his face as he leans over to check Locke’s pulse whilst the rest of them look on after having taken note that the apartment was clear.

“Body’s cold, he’s been dead for hours, entry wound looks to be about the same size as the other victims.”

Jude scrunches her eyebrows as she stands in front of the murderboard for the second time that day.

“So, Chloe Tatterfell, Taryn Santorini and Locke McCuchins were all killed within the span of 24 hours, all with the same gun, presumably by the same killer and yet so far the only connections we’ve found are Taryn’s address that was found written on Chloe’s hand, the phone call from both women to Locke and the similar tattoos on both Chloe and Taryn, but not on Locke.”

“Hmm.” Cardan seems to materialise out of nowhere, carrying a paper cup of what smells like freshly brewed coffee. Jude was convinced that he took his coffee with added alcohol but she had yet to prove it.

“What’s with the glare?” he asks.

“It automatically deploys itself when you're around.”

He scoffs. Twirls his coffee around. Takes a long, slurping sip.

“Hey, Duarte? Don’t get me wrong, I mean, the feeling is mutual, but what exactly is it that makes you despise me so much? I’d like to know so I can make sure to keep doing it.”

Jude barely deliberates over her answer before she responds.

“Being an overly cocky, obnoxious jerk who has only managed to get this far thanks to his Daddy’s fat purse will definitely be the best way to make me hate you, trust me.”

He grins but there’s no humour in the curve of his sensual lips, his eyes are cold metal.

“You think that the only reason I’m a detective is because of my father?”

“Yup.” She makes sure to add plenty of emphasis to that one word.

Cardan opens his mouth as if to speak, stops, presses his lips together so hard that they turn pale before the colour returns to them when a slow smile spreads across his face, this time full of humour, but the decidedly darker kind.

“Let’s make a bet. If you can figure out what the connection between our three victims is before I do, I’ll go right up to Captain Madoc myself and request a change of partners so you can be rid of my ‘overly cocky, obnoxious’ self. Deal?”

He was extending a challenge and Jude was never one to back down from those. Besides, the chance to be rid of him with no cost to herself or her reputation was too good to pass up on. Still, there had to be a catch, with Cardan, there was always a catch.

“And on the complete off-chance that you figure it out first? What happens then?”

“If I figure it out first...you have to come with me as my date to this party that my dad’s having in a couple days.”

Those last few words come out in a rush and Jude has to take a moment to decipher their meaning. Followed by another moment to wonder if she’d somehow completely misunderstood what he’d said.

“You want me to what?”

“Be my date to a party. Honestly Duarte, do you have any idea how many women would jump at this opportunity?” His tone is disgustingly nonchalant.

“I-” she struggles to find the words. “Take one of them then! Don’t you have a girlfriend, Nicasia or something like that? Blue hair and eyes? High pitched voice? Talks a lot about how much she gets seasick?”

“You know, for someone who’s only met Nicasia once you do remember quite a bit about her.” His steady gaze on her is intense.

For some incorrigible reason Jude has to resist the urge to flush.

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to study people.”

“Right. Sadly, Nicasia and I are no longer together, if we ever were. I got bored. Hence, why I need a date.”

“I’m sure you could just take one of your scores of female admirers, you don’t need me.”

“Is that jealousy that I detect in your voice?”

“Cardan.”

“Look, the point is, I can’t be bothered having to deal with yet another simpering female who thinks that one night on my arm means a promise to a life-long relationship complete with marriage, a fancy mansion and exactly 2.5 kids. All I want is a companion for one night so I don’t get hounded by my mother for not having a girlfriend by which she can procure some grandchildren.”

“Oh so now you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He rolls his eyes up at the ceiling and she fights the urge to slap him.

“It’s just for one night! Besides, I thought me winning was barely even a possibility to you.”

She makes a noise at the back of her throat. “It is.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Do we have a deal, or not?” He holds out his hand, sculpted eyebrows raised in confrontation.

She doesn’t really think he has much of a chance of figuring it out before her, but he had admittedly also proven adept at figuring certain things out in previous cases so there was definitely no certainty that he wouldn’t win, for all her bravado. Yet, her competitive nature couldn’t bear the thought of surrendering, so she pushes her unease aside and grips his hand in a firm shake.

“Deal.”

There’s an awkward moment when he takes a little too long to release her hand from his grip. Once he finally does, the rather pointy tips of his ears reddening, they both turn back to the murder board and the view of their murder time line and crime scene pictures, furiously trying to connect the dots in their heads.

A random thought intrudes in her brain.

"Wait, what if Garrett and Van figure it out before we do?”

As one, she and Cardan both turn towards the opposite side of the office where the two officers in question sat in front of their computers.

Van was typing in data on his computer, eyes glazing over and the tuft of black hair atop his head trembling whilst Garrett, or, The Ghost - as he was sometimes called thanks to his tendency to take months before answering non-work related messages - stood eating glazed donuts with one hand and speaking to someone on the phone held in the other. Jude loved the both of them but she had to admit that they didn’t exactly paint the most inspiring picture.

Once again she and Cardan are in sync when they promptly turn back towards the murderboard and proclaim, “Nah.”

Van’s excitement is clearly written on his face when he walks straight up to Jude’s desk the moment she arrives at the precinct the next morning, slamming down a manila folder with the NYPD crest printed on it onto her neatly arranged table top.

Immediately she reaches out to open it, desperate for a break in the case that would not only put a three time killer behind bars but also ensure that she herelf wouldn’t commit murder if she lost the bet and had to pretend to be Cardan’s girlfriend for a night. The thought makes her want to shudder.

“So, I was looking into all of our victim’s financials and I noticed an anomaly. Two weeks ago on the 7th they each deposited 95 hundred dollars into their savings accounts, but we’ve got no way of tracing the money back because the amount is under the IRS’s investigative limit” Van takes a quick pause before continuing, “but that’s not all, both Taryn and Chloe have credit card charges for small amounts at a tattoo place called Fair Folk Inks down in Queens.”

“Great, that’d be the place where they both got tattoos, I’ll go down there and ask the owner a couple questions, thanks Van.” She puts the sheaf of financial accounts back into the folder and takes a quick swig of her usual morning coffee, black, no sugar before preparing to head out once more.

“Going somewhere, partner?”

She’d bumped straight into Cardan when stepping into the elevator and she lets out a small groan of frustration as she steps back from his sturdy form. He looks annoyingly chipper, usual cocky smile in place and laughter in his tone as he looks down at her slightly shorter self. His cologne is strong and emanates the scent of the woods and sunlight in the small elevator. The woods and sunlight? Clearly foregoing the rest of her morning coffee hadn’t been a good idea.

She’d thought she could make it out of the building before he finally arrived, necessitating in having to take him along as well, but clearly fate had other ideas.

“Tattoo parlour. Queens,” she grits out.

“Let’s go then,” his tone is sickly sweet.

“Hi there, you guys lookin’ to get inked?” asks the pink haired girl behind the counter in fishnet tights and a tank top, looking up from where she is perched on a stool behind the counter when she hears them enter.

The parlour itself is shiny and white, the smooth metal counter and two spaced out black leather tattoo chairs complete with wheeled stools are the only pieces of furniture in the small space. Mounted on the walls are designs, each of them evoking a sense of fantasy. A pixie there, a selkie here, an ornate dragon, all staring right back at Jude as she takes in their surroundings. She takes note of the fact that the pictures staring back at her were very reminiscent of Chloe and Taryn’s tattoos, solidifying her suspicion that this was where they had got them done.

Before she has time to explain the reason for their visit, Cardan pipes up.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of getting one of a slithering snake, maybe across my back? I believe it would add to my already abundant sex appea-”

“Actually,” Jude cuts him off with her most scathing glare, to which he irritatingly responds with a grin. “We’re here on official business, NYPD, we need to speak with the owner of this establishment.” She holds up the badge that she’s just extracted from her plain black wallet as she speaks.

“That would be Vivi, hang tight a sec I’ll go get her.” With a sway of her hips Heather trounces off behind a curtained section at the back of the parlour.

Unable to stand still for even a few moments, her partner has already wandered over to the corner of the room, pointing at a pinned up design, ““That goblin over there reminds me of Van.”

She ignores him.

“Oh come on Duarte, you have to admit, there’s a definite resemblance.”

She spares the quickest of glances at the design and it’s true, there’s a striking similarity, but she isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing so she simply makes a non-committal grunt of recognition.

“Tell me, are you always this tightly wound or is it just for the majority of your day?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have inadvertently traveled upwards on her face and she can’t believe he has the audacity to say what he just did, although really, she shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Come on Duarte, we’ve been partners for quite a while now and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you laugh.” He’s standing a few feet away from her, his expression serious, not backing down.

“It’s called being professional.” She can feel the muscles working in her face as she hisses out the words through gritted teeth, blood pounding furiously.

“Ahem.” She whirls around to find a tall bronze haired woman with striking cat-like eyes that were currently meeting her gaze wearing a lazy look of amusement.

“Heather said there were some policemen who wanted to ask me some questions?”

Jude cannot believe that she had just gotten so sidetracked by her insolent partner that she’d forgotten why she was currently standing in the middle of a Tattoo parlour in Queens, clutching a set of regular sized close ups of three now dead people. She tamps down the irritation at her own actions as she thrusts out the photos in front of the woman facing her, Vivi, the pink haired girl had said.

“Yes, ma’am, do you recognize these people?”

She watches intently as Vivi carefully peruses the pictures before answering, “I know the two girls, Taryn and Chloe, we’re friends, I’ve even tattooed the both of them. I’m not really sure who he is.”

“Are you sure you don’t know him? Look carefully.” Cardan is all business now, stepping up to Vivi.

“I’m sure.” Vivi’s tone is almost defiant, daring him to question her again.

“You said that you were friends with the girls, how close were you?”

“They came into the tattoo parlour at the same time about a month ago and we started up a conversation, we exchanged numbers and would meet up for a drink from time to time.”

“Did they ever meet up with just each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can you think of any reason as to why they’d both be killed by the same person?”

“They’re...they’re dead?”

Jude had intentionally asked the question in a way that would require a reaction and she wasn’t sure that she was entirely convinced by the shocked undertone of Vivi’s voice.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

“She’s hiding something.” Once again Jude is back in front of the murderboard, furiously capping and uncapping a whiteboard marker as her mind whirls. She’s full of nervous energy, on the brink of a precipice and she wants nothing more than to be able to push herself off of it.

“Agreed.” Cardan is pacing the floor between her and the murder board and his posture indicates that he’s just as worked up as she is.

“But what I can’t understand is why she would kill two of her acquaintances plus a random vending machine operator, I mean, there’s no clear motive.” She’s barely conscious of the slight pain that tingles as she worries at her bottom lip.

Cardan halts in front of the board, takes a hard look at the scrawled timeline on it before once more resuming his brisk walk.

“And what the hell is the connection between these three victims? They lived in opposite neighbourhoods, worked in completely different areas and fields, never seemed to have been in the same place at the same time and yet somehow they were killed by the same hand. Also, where did all that money come from?”

His phone chooses precisely that moment to start ringing and the sound of ‘Horns’ by Bryce Fox cuts through the tension.

“It’s Liliver,” he mouths as he swipes upwards to answer and puts the medical examiner on speaker phone.

“You got something for us Lil?’

“You bet I do. I had scraps from the victims’ clothings tested to try and find a common link. What I found were traces of bleach, acetone, sodium chloride and ammonia.”

“Drugs. They were making drugs. That would explain all the money.” Jude is burning and luminescent with victory, until Lili’s next words cut her down.

“It’s not drugs.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because of what isn’t there. If your vics were making drugs, there’d need to be a couple more ingredients. That being said, they were definitely up to something.”

She lets out a sigh of defeat. “Thanks, Lil.”

Cardan hangs up before bringing his fingers up to his temples, massaging the sides of his head as he burns a hole into the board in front of him.

Jude bites back a scream. “This is like the start of a bad joke, a teacher, a sculptor and a vending machine operator walk into a tattoo parlour…”

He scoffs, “Yeah, except we don’t really have a punchline.”

“Other than ‘they made a bunch of money and got themselves killed.’”

There’s a lull in the air and the frustration is palpable. There was so much more than just their bet at stake here, there was the need for justice for these three victims, who regardless of their crimes likely didn’t deserve what had befallen them. Besides, there was no way that they could let a ruthless killer roam the streets freely.

Suddenly, Cardan whirls around to face her, once again bringing his pacing to an abrupt stop, with a speed to rival that of the animal that was his tattoo inspiration.

“Made a bunch of money,” he repeats.

He sounds like he’s just jumped off of the precipice. She, on the other hand, remained firmly mounted to the ground.

“What?”

“A sculptor who works with metal, a chemist and a vending machine operator...I know what they were up to.”

Slowly, the light starts to dawn on her and her pulse speeds up. Yes, she thinks.

“Think about it, when counterfeiting money, what’s the biggest problem you face? Finding the paper,” he continues.

“And a vending machine operator would have an endless supply of one dollar billls!”

“Exactly, then the chemist would come in, using the chemicals that were found on the vic’s bodies to white wash those bills.”

“And then the sculptor would be able to fashion a set of metal plates with which to type in fake serial numbers’ so they can get larger denominations of money…”

“Right! So, plates, paper, there’s just one missing ingredient.”

Beaming smiles break out on both their faces when, in unison they reach the same conclusion.

The 12th Precinct’s interrogation room had contained many suspects from the time it was built. Some were innocent and some were guilty, but there was no doubt in both Jude and Cardan’s minds that the feline woman currently seated across from them with her legs up on the table was one hundred percent guilty.

“So you think you’ve figured it all out, huh?” Vivi’s drawl is deceptively flippant.

“I think so.” Jude answers calmly. “For instance, we’ve figured out that you were involved in and likely the mastermind behind a counterfeiting operation that raked in a substantial amount of money. You provided the last ingredient needed, the ink from your tattoo parlour stocks that was used to print on the bills.”

Cardan leans forward. “We’ve also surmised that you killed your partners in said operation; Taryn Santorini and Chloe Tatterfell, both of whom you met through your tattoo parlour, just like you said.”

“And our third victim, Locke McCutchins? Yeah, we know he was your cousin, once removed on your mother’s side wasn’t it? A distant enough relationship for you to not be flagged when checking his family, but close enough for you to enlist him in your scheme so you had access to vending machine bills.” Jude continues, she and Cardan having perfected the art of interrogating together ages ago, their tactics working smoothly together alongside each other.

Vivienne sneers. “So what? You have no proof.”

“On the contrary, ma’am, we do. You neglected to hide the metal plates that you got Taryn to make for you in a place that wasn’t under a loose floorboard of your room, easily found with the aid of a search warrant.” Cardan smiles.

“You also tripped up when you stored your used gun with matching ballistics to the weapon that killed our victims in the same place as the plates.” Cardan’s smile is copied on Jude’s face.

Vivi’s skin pales and her cat’s eyes narrow into slits as she bangs the table, hard, before slouching back in the metal chair, the fight leaving her.

“Well, I suppose the jig is up, as they say,” she drawls.

Satisfied, Jude stands up and gathers the notepad and pen that she’d left on the desk and then bends over the interrogation table to meet Vivi’s gaze.

“What I can’t understand, though, is why? Why would you kill them if you’d already paid them?”

The Accused smirks. “It was all that idiot Lockes’s fault. He’d gotten himself into debt with some mob shark and needed more dough to bail his sorry self out. I wasn’t about to give it, he had his cut and that was all. But then, he threatened to go to the cops and tell them about what we did. Couldn’t let that happen, so I figured I’d kill ‘em all of. Just to be safe.”

The casual way in which she speaks of her deeds chills Jude to the bone. Wordlessly, she turns her back on yet another cold hearted murderer and exits the room with Cardan right behind her.

They come to a stop in front of the now empty murderboard, its surface shiny and white, devoid of words, but not for long. There was always a murder happening somewhere or the other, Jude had been a detective long enough to know that.

“So, now that Vivienne Insmire, tattoo artist, mastermind and ink supplier of counterfeiting operations and killer of ‘friends’ and distant male cousins is safely behind bars, I think you and I have a certain matter to settle, Duarte.”

She’d been trying hard to avoid this moment all day, pushing back thoughts of her close defeat and what its consequences would be. It seemed like now, she'd run out of time. She gulps.

“I suppose-” she almost can’t bring herself to say the words, “I suppose you won our bet, then.”

“Yup.” He’s not even trying to hide his gloating, “and you know what that means.”

The noise she emits is one that is resigned. She knows what’s coming.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow.”

“Or I could just take a ca-”

“Don’t be late, Duarte,” he calls over his shoulder as he leisurely strolls towards the precinct exit, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

--------------------------------------------------------------

If you’ve made it all the way down here, congrats! Here’s a link for part 2.

Tagging the lovely people on my short but treasured TFOTA taglist; @cupcakesandkittens (who helped immensely during the writing of this fic and who suggested adding in the interrogation scene❤) and my very own talented Secret Snusband, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist💕

#anyways Liles I hope you enjoyed!#dd writes #secretsnusband #tfota fanfic #the folk of the air fanfiction #the folk of the air #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #castle #cop au #enemies to lovers #i would also like to say #that i absolutely love vivienne duarte #but she was also badass enough to make a murderer #and i couldn't resist #hopefully this first part was intriguing #and the second part is cheesy in all the right ways #jurdannet #jurdannet revels

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feastofcadavers · 3 years

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Even in the most comfortable of beds, Mint couldn't seem to catch a break when it came to resting well. Though it didn't exactly help when the lights in his place of rest were flickering rapidly. Just barely opening his eyes, Mint looked into the blurry darkness that would seem to set itself alight for brief moments. It was through this haze that the musician would slowly process that this flickering was... Not normal. Blinking a few times to attempt to get some of the sleep out of his eyes, the emerald-eyed man would realize that these lights were flashing too sporadically to be caused by someone messing with the light switch. "Wha..." He'd tiredly start to speak, though soon had his eyes shoot open as he heard a distant yell. That- that sounded like someone was in excruciating pain.

Whipping himself out of bed- and nearly falling over due to the imbalance of just waking up- Mint looked around for where the sound could have come from. Aloe was in the room with him, sleeping peacefully and holding some sort of doll. He couldn't exactly make it out since the lighting was so inconsistent, but it at least wasn't the source of distress. There was a split-second idea of waking Aloe up, just in case, but... As the shrieking of pain caught in his ears again, he decided against such and just focused on the sound itself... Which seemed to be coming from outside. There was a window in the space between the beds that the two resided in that also held a window, clear of dust and whatever else. There seemed to be sparks flying past it, coinciding with the screaming. So, what else was Mint to do? He'd approach the window, looking out into the world that wouldn't break into dawn for at least a few more hours.

And to the violinist's surprise, or rather, his shock... There was a yellow glow far beneath the window. And looking into that glow, there was... Someone. Too familiar with someone with electrical abilities, Mint could feel a weight on his heart as he heard the voice cry out again, barely recognizing the voice now that he had a visual. Lemon?! What was he doing all the way out here? Mint's expression furrowed into one of deep distress. What was causing that much pain? Screaming out into the darkness, the agony held in his voice, it... If it was something that even someone like Lemon couldn't stifle, it must've been excruciating. As the latest scream died down, the concerned onlooker could make out some sort of bag next to the sparking victim. That was-

Another scream-! This one was far louder than the others. One that sounded more like a screech that almost gave the impression that Lemon's vocal cords were tearing themselves apart. The horrific sound rang itself in Mint's ears, and he was met with the sight of... Oh- Oh for the love of- Mint could feel a similar pain shoot through his back as he saw the sight of wings tear out of Lemon's flesh. Despite the darkness, the red of blood was kept visible with the yellow glow that was speckled throughout it, highlighting the horrors and agony that one as cold as him couldn't help but fall apart under. Lemon was curling in on himself, wings seeming to glimmer as if it was some sort of newborn blessing.

Mint was finally able to pry himself away from the window, pupils trembling and his body tense as he tried to process what he just saw. His eyes wouldn't deceive him, would they? Putting a hand over his heart, he would breathlessly try to tell it to be still. He'd retract it a second later, knowing what his words implied. "Just... Just calm down... I-I... I need to..." Shutting his eyes tight and shaking his head, he'd turn away from the window and make a break out the door. What way was the exit to this place? He couldn't let Lemon suffer alone out there- Not when he had personal experience as to how painful it was and how weak one could become afterward!

Turning a corner, Mint would accidentally collide with Truffle, narrowly falling back but catching himself. "I'm- I'm sorry, I just-" "You are going to look for the source of all that screaming and these flickering lights, aren't you?" "Well, yes, but you- you see-" Mint would pause in his words, trying to properly get himself to speak. In which that effort was... marginally successful. "That- Out there is an acquaintance- Lemon, he... He just sprouted wings! I need to go and- and make sure he's taken care of!" "Ah, I see. Well then," Truffle began as she turned from Mint, softly smiling back at him, "how about we go pay him a visit and I will ensure that he is cared for? It would be rude to keep him waiting." As much as the violinist felt unease about the situation, at least Truffle was there to help- her and those spiders. He didn't question where the spiders were at this time, just... Instead focusing on making sure the two of them would get to Lemon as fast as possible.

Despite only being able to see some spindly portions of what Mint assumed to be the guide's dress, Truffle was very quick on her feet and brought the two out in no time flat. "This way-" Mint would quickly state, heading around the perimeter of the mansion. Past the graves and whatever else the Hallow's Eve addict had for decorations, Lemon was in sight, glowing bright and sparks flying from his wounds like frayed wires amidst the dark, wooded atmosphere. "Wait a moment," Truffle would interject, putting a hand on Mint's shoulder to stop them both from barging in. "There is someone in front of him- the one clad in reddish-purple, see?" The worried one would squint into the dark, and yes, there was someone else there. Someone... With a crossbow. Truffle would gently bring Mint behind a nearby tree, hiding him away from possible sight.

Mint would watch cautiously, attempting to get a better view of the one that seemed to be focused on Lemon. They were shorter than most he'd seen, but clearly not one to be messed with if the tattered cloak that covered them were any indication.

"So... You finally fucked up big time." The figure would speak, prominently irritated in tone. The voice was feminine, but held a gravelly undertone. "First Carrot, and now this? I should have shot you down the moment you decided to go after Caramel." There was a growl, the crossbow being tampered with in her hands. Mint almost brought himself out, but Truffle held onto his shoulder. "And where is he now, huh? Did your little prison break go well? I wouldn't say so, considering you're... Well... One of them now." Some mix of a scoff and a dry laugh came from the figure as she raised her crossbow and gestured idly over Lemon's body, as if deciding where to shoot. Lemon's body was visibly trembling. Not from the threat before him, but from the pain.

"I always thought you were a rebel, a dishonorable one at that. I can't believe you couldn't even stick with us hunters just because... Just because of some bitch that can't hold his own." And for once, Lemon would retort back. "You'd- you'd do the same for Carrot, Beet. Or should I call you... A hypocrite?" "Oh, shut your fucking mouth." Beet would take a step forward, aiming her weapon at Lemon's chest. Even if the sparking insect was stuck against the side of the mansion, bloodied and depleted of energy, he still had some sass in him it seemed. "At least I was able to save- to rescue someone that I care for, unlike you." "I said, shut your fucking MOUTH!"

Beet would let a bolt out of their weapon, but... It narrowly missed Lemon's head. Probably a warning shot. Probably. And at that point, Mint gave the impulse decision to run out and stand in front of Lemon- defending him. "L-listen here!" Mint would try to speak with confidence as they spread their arms to further cover Lemon- or more accurately- his wings. Though the tone of 'confident' was lacking naturally- so in a time such as this-? "I'm- I'm not going to let you kill him, who-whoever you are!" "Oooh, so now the one who nearly killed their own assistant is going to lecture me?" Mint's mouth opened, but no sound came out at such a remark. "Yeah, you heard me right. I know who you are. Most hunters do... Except for the one that ran out on us at the drop of a hat." Beet scowled, taking little time to reload her weapon and aim it once more. "I don't have time for either of you. Violin boy, if you step out of the way, I'll make your death painless. If not, then... it won't be. Simple as that." "You-” Mint’s perseverance wavered, but... “I won't let you kill either of us!" There was a pause between the two as Beet looked on inquisitively. She almost seemed mildly entertained, but that didn't stop her from raising her crossbow. "...So be it, bastard."

Three sounds were let out at once: A crossbow firing and clattering to the floor, a yip of pain, and a 'shnk' of an arrow through flesh. Beet would soon be wailing with a shower of swears to accompany it. While she had her moment, holding her arm and quickly finding that there would be more bites to come- Mint had his own ordeal. The upper part of his arm, though in the least pain of the three, had been pierced by Beet's weapon. He gasped and whined, leaning forward as his one arm gripped the other. "Ow ow ow-" He'd hiss out, eyes sealed shut as tears welled at the corners of his eyes. "W-worth it-"

After letting the pain course through him, Mint would wipe away the tears and open his eyes. To his surprise, where Beet previously stood was now a... Large white cocoon. A chill sent itself over the violinist's spine as he didn't wish to think about what could have happened in such a short time. Blink and one will miss it, he guessed. "Are you stable enough to bring yourself inside?" Truffle would gently ask, and Mint barely registered that the question was not for him. He opened his mouth to answer, but thankfully didn't embarrass himself by noticing that Truffle was behind him, helping Lemon to his feet. The poor newly cursed was forced to lean against the elder, who was stronger than she looked. Seems like the answer was no. "Well, you can't eat me anymore... so what the Hell else do I have left to lose?" He'd murmur in irritation. "Your dignity, the ones you care for, your life... There is plenty that you still have, young one." A mirthless laugh came from the elder as she would gingerly carry Lemon away, with the one being carried obviously miffed by the retort. Though Mint wasn't left unacknowledged, as Truffle would give him a motion to follow. He did so, and desperately tried to ignore the large sack of a body that he... Had a feeling wouldn't be alive for much longer, considering it was surprisingly still whilst being carried by spiders.

...At least Lemon was okay, even if there were some- Mint will guiltily admit- avoidable casualties...

#🎻 the court's conflicted #⚡ the vengence served sparked #🕸️ the spiders' gifted #🏹 the widowed huntress #📝 written scriptures #feastofcadavers #mint choco cookie #lemon cookie #truffle cookie #beet cookie

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cutie1365 · 4 years

Text

Winchester Part 1/4

Pairing: Sherlock x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Violence, language, blood

Request from imboredsueme, and I think their account is deactivated now :( I swear this request is from like over 3 years ago and I’m just the worst. I finally got some good inspiration for this story and I really like it so far. Not sure how many more parts there will be of this, it’s gonna be a mini series so we’ll see as I write the next few parts.

Any and all feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated :)

Masterlist in bio. Link to join taglist is at the bottom of my masterlist.

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Sherlock liked you from the moment he met you, and that didn’t happen often... maybe ever.

“Any witnesses?” Sherlock turned to Lestrade and asked as they approached the crime scene.

“Yeah one, one of my guys is talking to her now.” He lifted his finger in the direction of the woman down the road with her hands in her coat pockets. She almost looked... bored? She had just witnessed a murder, shouldn’t she look more... distraught? Emotional? He clearly didn’t know who he was dealing with.

Sherlock was accustomed to useless witnesses, none of them really noticed what’s important.

American. He noted her accent as they got closer, the officer talking to her nodded and left, flipping his notebook shut.

“We’ve just got a few more questions for you Ms. Winchester.” The Detective Inspector said, but Sherlock was too focused on her. No signs of shock, no crying, no emotions, much unlike any other female witnesses to gruesome murders he’d seen. Interesting.

“What did you see?” Sherlock asked, squinting his eyes to examine her.

“This guy,” you pointed to one of the white cloth covered bodies as you spoke, “shot this guy in the face, then blew his brains out. Seems pretty open and shut to me.” You shrugged.

“So it would seem...” Sherlock turned to Lestrade with an annoyed look as if to say why the hell was I brought in then?

“That is, unless you take into account the sniper from two buildings over.” You pointed over your shoulder.

“What?” Both Sherlock and Lestrade turned back to you, surprise evident in their voice.

“Sure, this guy was pointing a gun at him, but it was as if the shot came from behind him, it scared him. When the other guy dropped, he panicked and stuck the gun in his mouth... seems odd.” You spoke calmly.

“Why do you believe it’s a sniper?” Sherlock asked suspiciously.

“I’ll let you analyze the entrance wound and ballistics report, but I guarantee that that bullet didn’t come from this man’s gun.” You said, confidently.

Sherlock strutted over to the body, not wanting to believe you on your word alone. He pulled the sheet back and sure enough the entrance wound was higher on the forehead near the hairline, with the exit wound down near the base of his head where it meets his neck. A man standing a few feet in front of him wouldn’t be able to get that kind of angle. He silently moved towards the other body, and slipping a glove on his hand, picked up the gun lying on the ground. He opened the revolver, and to his surprise, only one bullet was missing. It would have taken two, one to shoot the man and one for himself. Lestrade watched him intently, waiting for him to speak. He looked up at you, he couldn’t read you... you were different, useful.

“She’s right.” Sherlock muttered, and Lestrade’s eyes went wide.

He moved to stand in front of you, he looked taller than on TV where you’d seen him in the news.

“Winchester, was it?” He asked.

“Y/N.” You smirked, placing your hand in front of you for him to shake, which he did.

“Come with me.” He said, beginning to walk down the street, and you followed him.

You followed him that day, and you’d do it again, everyday. You’d follow him into hell itself and do it with a smile.

He took you along on one case, and that was all it took. He liked having you around, you were insightful and helpful, not to mention unphased in the face of death. One case enough for him to realize you were going to be trouble. Good trouble or bad trouble, of that he wasn’t sure yet, but the thought of you always brought a smirk to his lips.

The more time Sherlock spent around you, the more it became clear: you had secrets. He liked that, he couldn’t read everything about you. He was quite sure he’d never met a woman like you before, and likely never would again. Someone who challenged him intellectually, made him laugh (a rare sight, admittedly), and made him feel alive.

They say your past has a way of coming back to bite you in the ass... and your past had fangs. Literally.

Sometimes all it takes is one second, one tiny moment to bring you back to where you were, to what you’d thought you left behind. You can’t go home, but maybe home can come to you.

You didn’t realize it until it was too late... but everything you’d come to hold dear was going to be tested and threatened like never before.

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It seemed like a simple case, a simple stabbing, it should have been cut and dry but something was bugging both of you about it. Something was off.

The murder weapon wasn’t recovered, and it wasn’t just a simple knife. Truthfully neither of you knew what the man was stabbed with, and it was going to drive you crazy.

You and Sherlock sat in his bedroom, well... based on the amount of time you spent in it, you could almost call it ‘your’ bedroom. Sherlock paced in front of you as you sat with your back against the headboard, the pictures of the crime scene spread on the bed before you.

“Arrow?” Sherlock suggested.

“Mm, too thin.” You glanced at the picture, shaking your head.

“Harpoon?” You tilted your head, eyes dancing across the pictures.

“Cut’s too clean for that.” He shook his head.

You’d been at this for hours now, naming every pointy, knife-like object you could think of to find the murder weapon. The wound was so odd. It was almost squared on the front entrance wound, but thin and a quarter of the diameter on the back where it had run him through.

“We need a fresh perspective on this.” You said, running your fingers through your hair, quickly pulling it up into a messy bun as you moved to get off the bed, “You go check out his girlfriend’s place again, and I’ll go check the bookshop he worked at, there’s gotta be something we’re missing.”

Sherlock tossed you your coat as he slipped his own on and you both made your way out of the flat, going in opposite directions.

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The bookstore was only a couple blocks away from Baker Street, so you were there in no time. You decided to look around the shop for a few minutes before approaching the manager. You flitted through the different sections of the store, the same shelves the recently departed victim would pass each day.

You stopped as your eyes caught something in the Science Fiction section - Supernatural by Carver Edlund. You picked it up with a smirk, of course they’d made it international, you shook your head.

“Can I help you find something?” The manager comes around the corner and asks you with a smile.

“Oh, no,” You smiled, placing the book back on the shelf, “I’m actually here to ask you a few questions about Ben Whitman.”

Her face turned into a sort of sad smile.

“Of course, how can I help?” She said somberly.

As you interviewed the manager your eye caught something outside the window. Her back is to the front door, as the manager goes on about Ben’s punctuality you see two large men move like they were going to come into the store. They caught you talking to the manager and suddenly diverted course around the side of the building.

“Has anyone ever come in looking for Ben, or asked about him?” You pulled your attention back to the manager.

“Not before you lot.” She smiled.

You thanked the manager for her time and helpful information, although she didn’t give you anything you didn’t already know. As you left the store, you turned down the same side alley you’d seen the men disappear in. You heard voices coming from all the way back behind the bookshop.

You peaked your head around the corner, seeing the two men standing, talking to each other. You knew something felt wrong about them, but weren’t sure what it was until you saw their eyes turn black.

Your breath caught in your throat, that was the last thing you expected to see today. You thought you had successfully stayed out of sight until your foot shifted on the gravel as you tried to take a step back.

Immediately, their eyes went back to normal as they whipped their heads in your direction.

“What are you looking at?” The shorter one asked aggressively, they both stepped toward you. You stepped away from the wall, there was no point hiding now, they knew you were there.

Suddenly, everything clicked, and you were overcome with a wave of confidence.

“I don’t think Crowley would be pleased to hear about a couple of demons going rogue. You killed the bookstore clerk with a stolen angel blade didn’t you.” You spoke bravely, although in hindsight, it might have been stupidity and not bravery that guided your actions.

“Who the hell are you?” The taller one asked, with venom in his voice.

“Oh Lucifer, you’re that little Winchester bitch aren’t you,” His mouth morphed into a sadistic smile as they realized, “You’re far from home.”

“No big brothers here to fight your battles.” The other pulled out an angel blade as they began to stalk towards you.

“Fuck.” You muttered, putting your fists up as they attacked you.

You fought back, but took a few hits. You were able to disarm the one with the blade. You were pretty sure you broke his arm when he came towards you. Unfortunately you hadn’t realized the blade had sliced your side as you took a hit to the face from the other demon. Running on pure adrenaline, your fist rammed into his face, blood coming from his nose. The demon with the broken arm muttered something you couldn’t hear to his partner, before they both left their vessels. Your ears were still ringing as you felt the blood begin to drip from your brow bone.

You knew you couldn’t make it all the way back to your flat like this to get cleaned up. You held your side to slow the bleeding. Baker Street was just around the corner. You could use the back streets to get to Sherlock’s flat and not scare too many bystanders on the street.

You knew Sherlock wouldn’t be in, he’d gone to investigate the girlfriends house with John and that was on the other side of London.

The adrenaline began to wear off as you hobbled up the stairs of 221B, thanking god Mrs. Hudson hadn’t greeted you at the door. You hurried into the bathroom and began pulling out the alcohol and suture kit from the cabinet.

You cleaned the wound on your brow quickly before slapping a butterfly bandage over it for the time being. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you saw the dried blood on your face; and the bruises were already littering your arms and abdomen when you slipped off your shirt.

You sat on the edge of the tub as you began to clean the laceration on your side. You started to stitch it up, holding some extra gauze in your mouth. You were so focused on what you were doing you didn’t hear the door opening.

“What the hell Y/N.” Sherlock’s voice made you jump and drop the gauze from your mouth.

“Um, o this. This is nothing.” You tried to smile, but he wasn’t having it.

“Y/N! This is not nothing. John!” He called out through the door into the flat.

John came around the corner and his eyes went wide as they landed on you. He quickly took the suture kit from you and helped to stitch up the remaining open laceration. You hissed slightly as he poured alcohol over it once more before covering the wound with sterile bandages.

The three of you sat in silence, Sherlock no doubt running a million scenarios in his mind, as you concentrated on not passing out. When John finished, you stood in front of the mirror, wiping the rest of the dried blood off of your face before slipping your shirt back on and turning towards the two men who hadn’t said a word.

“So I guess I have a little explaining to do.” You admitted.

“You think?” Sherlock retorted in a protective tone.

You sighed as you made your way into the living room, the two men in tow.

“You might want to sit down.” You motioned towards the couch, you know what you had to do. You’d kept your past a secret for as long as you could, but now it was time to come clean. Now it meant life or death.

Sherlock and John hesitantly sat before you on the couch as you stood in front of the coffee table.

“I solved the case.” You said after a moment, unsure of where to begin.

“You solved the case?” Sherlock asked slowly, in disbelief.

“I know who killed Ben and with what, but I don’t know why.” You admitted.

“Well who did it?” Sherlock asked, impatiently, still not believing you.

“Um so, the problem is we’re not going to be able to find them.” You danced around the real answer, knowing what their reaction would be.

“Why not?” John asked, with furrowed brows.

“Because they’re never going to look the same, one day to the next.” You tried to explain without sounding crazy, but you knew that wasn’t really an option anymore.

“Care to elaborate?” Sherlock raised a brow.

“They’ll be in different bodies.” You spoke quickly, knowing how it sounded.

“John did you check her for a head injury?” Sherlock turned to John and asked, completely ignoring what you were saying.

“Yeah you’re probably concussed.” John nodded.

“I’m not concussed,” You yelled, but thinking back to the beating you took today it was likely, “Ok, maybe I am but that doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth.”

“They’ll be in different bodies? That doesn’t make any sense Y/N.” Sherlock shook his head, not entertaining these fantasies.

“I know, I’m trying to word this in a way that doesn’t freak you out. The murder was done with a special kind of blade, it’s about this long with a wide almost square blade that comes to a point.” You moved your hands as you tried to describe the angel blade.

“That would match the autopsy report.” John nodded to Sherlock, as if to say maybe she’s not all that crazy.

“Ok, there’s no delicate way to put this,” you clapped your hands together, knowing there was no point delaying the inevitable anymore, “They were demons.”

Sherlock immediately laughed and stood up.

“Why don’t you go lay down Y/N, you’re obviously not feeling well.” Sherlock moved towards you with a patronizing tone.

“I’m not done. Sit down,” You ordered, seriously, “There were two demons, I saw them and they recognized me, so they’ll be back.”

“Why would these “demons” recognize you?” Sherlock asked with air quotes, clearly not taking you seriously.

“Because it’s like my family business. My brothers and I hunted things like this, but I got out of that life.” You shook your head, desperately trying to make them understand.

“And when you say ‘things’?” John asked slowly.

“Ghosts, demons, wendigos, shape shifters, vampires, werewolves.” You listed off quickly, shrugging.

“We might need to order an MRI.” Sherlock turned to John and spoke as if you weren’t there.

“Sherlock would you shut up for five minutes? I know you don’t believe me. And I know you won’t until you see it for yourself but I’m being serious here. Ok? Lives are at risk. There’s two rogue demons running around London and this can’t be the first murder they’ve committed. And now that they know I’m here, there’ll be more.” You spoke so seriously that Sherlock stayed quiet. He didn’t believe you, but he believed that you believed what you were saying was true. Did he still want you to be psychologically checked out? Yes. But for the time being he kept his mouth shut.

“So what do we do?” John asked.

“We call in the big guns.”

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Please let me know what you think! And since I’m still writing the next few parts let me know if there’s anything in particular you’d like to see happen :)

Taglist in reblog.

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itstittycitybaby · 4 years

Text

From the Ashes We Are Born (V for Vendetta x reader fic) Part one

a/n: First things first I just wanna say that yes, this exact fic is on ao3! I am TheLovelySinner and decided to also move onto Tumblr! This is a mini series of just moments between you and V. Other than that I hope you like this!

Your blood ran cold and your head spun. Your right hand clamped tightly around your nose and mouth as you laid there. Your left arm curled your legs up so they wouldn’t poke out underneath the desk. The cops were hot on your trail so you dashed into an office and slid underneath it, hoping they wouldn’t find you. You slid some boxes in front of you from being seen in case they were smart enough to crouch down and look. The T.V. across from you, perched on the wall, flickered. The red background caught your attention. There, a man who you never thought you’d see again, was V. The guy who saved you from the fingermen the night before. His words spoke with strength as he preached about a revolution and how corrupt High Chancellor Sutler was. “Remember, remember, the 5th of November.” V’s voice was smooth and soft as he spoke. Yet, there was still strength and compassion as he spoke of the injustice your country had caused. His mask smiled back at you on the screen. You wondered if he too was smiling beneath it. “Where is she,” a voice called out. You snapped out of your thoughts and watched the door. It was muffled, but they were right outside in the hall. You screwed your eyes shut, willing your trembling body to still. “Don’t just stand there, jackass,” one of them said, “Check the room.” The sound of the door rattled for a few seconds before it flung open. You bit your lip as you laid there, praying for some god to take pity on you. The silence was deafening as you hid, worrying about your fate. Would they arrest you? Kill you? You praised the skies once the door closed with a click, and footsteps faded. You cautiously slunk up from where you hid and squatted, turning your head around the desk to make sure no one was there. Coast is clear. You slung your satchel over your shoulder and pulled out your mace, just in case. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears and you stood there frozen. You felt sick. You shivered; the sun dress you decided to wear did no favours for you in the cold room. “Get yourself together,” you whispered. Hand slowly pulling the door open you peered out into the empty halls of your workplace. How the cops even found you chilled you to the core. Sadly, you were not surprised they were able to track you down. “All because of that damn masked guy.”

You peeked your head around the corners of the halls as you trekked through the building. Just a little more and we’ll be free. The halls were empty, ghost like. The camera's red light stared menacingly at you as you creeped around. You hoped somebody wasn’t watching at you through them. Your ears caught the sound of a struggle as you got closer to the exit. Bullets were ricocheting and groans from wounded people were the only signs of danger you had. Fuck, this can’t be good. You clutched onto your mace tightly;it was the only thing you had to protect yourself. You rounded another corner and that’s when you saw him: V. Corpses of officers laid beneath him and blood splattered on the bright white floors. You felt guilty for the janitor, if he was still alive. His back was turned to you, doing god knows what as he hovered over his victim. A figure moving caught your eye. One of the cops that almost caught you was creeping up on him. V’s name got caught up in your throat. ‘Stupid, not only would you get shot but he would too.’ You quickened your pace, slightly crouched as you made your way to the black haired cop. His back was also turned to you, thankfully. Your tights blanketed your footsteps, willing you to move like a ghost. The combat boots you owned were tucked in your satchel. They would alarm anyone near you with the heavy soles pounding on the white tile of the T.V. station. The cop’s pistol was raised and the cock of it made V turn. V’s head tilted;if you weren’t trying to be stealthy you would have laughed. The mask made him look cute somehow. V raised his arms up and sunk to his knees. “It seems you have bested me.” There was amusement hidden in his tone. Why, you didn’t know, considering the fact a gun was being pointed at his head. Joking even to the very end.

“It’s over,” the cop sneered, raising his gun. You were an arms length behind the officer now. Before you could stop yourself, you tapped his shoulder. The cop turned to you, confusion in his eyes, “Anderson?-” Your finger clutched down on the mace, the chemicals spurting out into his eyes. “Shit,” he cursed. His hands flung to his eyes as if to provide comfort. He raised the butt of his gun and it struck your temple. You cried out, crumpling to the ground. Pain seared through your head. Your temple felt hot and a stinging sensation followed. You raised your fingers to your head and patted it. “Mademoiselle, “ V (as far as you could tell) called out. You brought your fingers to your eyes: blood. You cursed yourself for touching your wound. It stung like hell. Vision going spotty, you held on. The officer fell beneath V’s hands, the faint sound of his gun clattering to the ground resounding in your ears. “V?” Your head stung as you tried to focus on the smiling masked man in front of you. V knelt beside you, morphing into each other and separating again. Two smiling Vs peered down at you. “Holy shit there’s two of you.” His head cocked to the side in confusion. V cursed himself as he saw blood trail down the side of your head. “Hush now, mademoiselle, exerting yourself in this state is dangerous.” You studied the masked man as your eyes started to close. You couldn’t focus anymore; everything was staticky and muddled. The white outline of a smiling guy fawkes mask hung in your head as you became enveloped in an inky, cold abyss.

#v for vendetta #v for vendetta x reader #x reader

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