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hayleythecannibal · 6 months ago

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Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Twenty Yakimono

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Talks of Attempted Murder/Assassination, Cannibalism, Framing, Guns, Prosthetics

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

VIRGINIA BARN - NIGHT-

A nascent crime scene. Work lights and flashing neons. COPS' and FBI AGENTS' breath frosting the cold air. An AMBULANCE is exiting. It drives toward us, revolving lights FILL FRAME.

JACK CRAWFORD standing With Y/N trying to comfort him, haunted, watching

the ambulance drive away.

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Miriam is still being processed – DIRT is scraped from beneath the nails of her right hand.

Her BLOOD slowly fills a test tube. Each time the evidence is put into bags, onto slides and labeled. “...I was so wrong…”

FBI - MIRIAM LASS'S DORM - NIGHT-

Abrupt silence. Miriam sits, staring into middle distance. Hear the slow THUD of her HEARTBEAT. The AMBIENT HUM of her CIRCULATORY SYSTEM. She finds her left arm resting on her knee, the round, smooth oddness of the stump where her left arm should be...

And, finally, her eyes, lashes in FOCUS as we see TEARS slowly bud and build on them.

“Thank you.” Finally, Miriam looks at Jack with her. There is belief and gratitude. Her voice raspy and low: “I knew you'd never stop looking…” She smiles softly, the sight haunting. “Can I see him?” She asks gently, “Who?” Jack says as he Furrows his brows in confusion. “The Ripper.” She says nervously, “We haven't caught the Ripper.” Her stomach plunges, helpless, frustrated, scared. “He's still--?”

“We need your help, Miriam. You know who he is.” Jack says Grimmly, “I don't. Know who he is.” She says choking on her own words, she thought they found her beacuse they caught him. Poor Miriam. “You found him.”

“I don't remember finding him. He got inside my head.”

“Do you remember being taken?”

“I remember a dream about drowning. Then being awake. And not awake. Being myself, and not myself. I remember I could smell salt air. We were by the sea. For weeks. Months. Longer. Days and evenings blurred, I'd wake up to the smell of fresh flowers and the sting of a needle. I wasn't afraid. Fear and pain were so far away, on the horizon, but not close. Never close.” She says so terrorized by what she knew she couldn't remember, it frustrated her.

“I was reckless with your life.” Jack says as he lets his head drop sadly, “I was reckless with my life.” Miriam responds trying to make jack feel as though its not his fault. Because it’s not. Its not his fault for His Wife’s attempted suicide, Beverly’s death, Miriam’s kidnapping, Will’s imprisonment, Y/N and Hannibal’s Attemped Assasination. None of it ws ever His fault.

“I saw what I needed in you and I used you. I let you break the rules on my behalf while I hid behind deniability.” Jack says He believes everything is his fault.

“Please, Agent Crawford. Don't apologize to me for my mistakes. He treated me very well until the end. Until he put me in the ground. Even when he took my arm. He told me what he was going to do. I went to sleep. I woke up, it was gone. Said he was giving it to you.” Miriam says with wide eyes gazing down on the floor. “Did he tell you why?”

“He said he wanted to give you hope.”

“Can you identify him?”

“I could hear his voice. I couldn't see his face. All I could see......was light.”

“Why didn't he kill you, Miriam? Why were you spared?” Jack asks curiously. “I wasn't spared. He was just saving me for last.” Miriam says with a Grim look.

BAU - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY-

ALANA BLOOM and Y/N L/N are with HANNIBAL in the small room with the TWO-

WAY MIRROR. “They- I found a witness. A survivor. The only victim of the Chesapeake Ripper who lived to tell.” I say looking at him seriously. I focus on my breathing to keep me grounded at the moment. “Is this witness watching me now?” Hannibal asks, looking me in the eyes, then turns to Alana. “Yes.”

”It seems I am the usual suspect.” Hannibal sighs, “I keep having angry, imaginary conversations with Jack Crawford about that. I wish I could tell you why this is happening.” Alana says as Hannibal looks to the glass. “I don't think even Jack can tell me why. His witness must not be able to identify the Ripper by sight.” Hannibal stands and approaches the glass.

“Jack wants them to hear my voice. Otherwise, I'd be in here alone. Still, I appreciate your company.” Hannibal says politely, Miriam Won’t ID him. He’s too clever for that. He won’t let himself be caught unless that's specifically what he wants. It's genius.

“There's new evidence in Will's case. Evidence he didn't commit the crimes he was accused of. Will's innocent, Hannibal.” I say promptly, Glad He’ll be out. Ready to actually see him. “He's not innocent of trying to kill me. And he's not innocent of what is happening here.” He says almost Curtly, My head bows.

“He thinks you're the Ripper.” Alana says Sadly, I understand why she’s so upset. I’m not. I know what he is. Who he is and what he has done. And for some reason. It doesnt scare me one bit. It’s a Little Exciting? No- I- I dont know. Hannibal approaches the glass “He's no longer alone in that.”

BSHCI - CELL BLOCK/WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Dr. Chilton limps toward Will's cell. As he approaches the last cell on the left, WILL is standing in the middle of his cage. He's no longer wearing his prison jumpsuit; he's wearing civilian clothes.

“This is very sudden.” Will says with a quick downturn of his Lips. “The federal prosecutor has dropped all charges. Since you weren't convicted of killing anyone, the basis for your sentencing to this institution is null and void. The Chesapeake Ripper has set you free.” Chilton speaks Quickly and does not miss a beat. “You're my psychiatrist, you could have kept me here if you wanted.”

“I'd love nothing more than to see you trade places with Dr. Lecter.”

“Now that's a prize patient.” Dr. Chilton waves his cane at the CCTV CAMERA. A moment, then Will Graham's cell door OPENS. Will steps out. “You may have been exonerated, but Hannibal Lecter has yet to be incriminated. Which means, there's a cannibal on the loose. I have no intention of ending up on his menu.”

“Then confess, Frederick. Might be the only thing saves your life.” They start down the hall.

“Confess to what?” Chilton inquires, “Confess to bonding with Hannibal Lecter over your mutual practice of unorthodox therapies. Dr. Lecter with me. You with Abel Gideon.” Will says as the men both walk towards his freedom. “Abel Gideon has been playing his own game. Was wheeled out of that hospital by the Chesapeake Ripper. Curious what bargain they struck.” “There's no bargaining with smoke. Gideon's dead. You're next.”

“Unless I unburden myself?” Chilton asks incredulously. “Confession's good for the soul. Shine a light on your relationship with Hannibal Lecter. He works in the shadows. Deny them to him. Tell Jack Crawford everything.” Will says with the raise of his brows.

“So if Hannibal kills me, he'll look more suspicious? Or are you simply suggesting I kill my career before Hannibal can kill me?” Chilton asks confused, “I'm suggesting you convince Jack Crawford however you can. Like your life depends on it.” The gate BUZZES, OPENS. As Will steps through, Chilton asks: “Why didn't Hannibal just kill you? Or Y/N?”

“Because he wants to be our friend.”

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

Will comes through the doors under the guards' pulpit and into the main hall. Sunlight shines through the windows, creating shafts of light and shadow. Will walks toward freedom, pausing to look at the brutal THERAPY CAGES where he spent so much time. Walking down the hall, through the pools of light, he realizes Y/N is waiting for him, standing near the base of the stairs. Will stops short. His Breathing stops. He hasnt seen her since he was told she was Almost Murdered.

“You need a ride?” I smile softly, I pull at my long sleeves to keep my still bandaged wrists covered. He steps in front of me, takes my face in his hands. He lets out a shuddering breath as he pulls me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He sighs into my hair. I rub his back soothingly. “I’m glad to see you out of there.” I say as I reluctantly pull away from the hug after a moment.

I open my passenger door and gesture for him come. “Come on Lets not keep jack waiting for us” I smile. Once he’s in the car I round to the drivers side and get in. Seat belts on and ready to go. I pull out of the parking lot and get on the long road back. “Care you know I-” “I know you didn’t order for me to be killed. Matthew Brown said it himself. And you would never hurt me.” I place one of my hands on his.

“What happened anyway?” He asks curiously, I take a deep breath. “He knocked me out with a tranquilizer outside of my car as i was leaving our last visit…..When i woke up I was Bleeding Heavily, My clothes had been changed. My thighs and my Wrists had deep lacerations. My head was pounding. I was told he kicked me. I still had my gun. So I stood up dazed, i drew my gun. And i killed him. Point blank. Next thing was told to me. I collasped to the floor and sent in an ambulance in critical condition.” I Shiver at the thought. I feel him squeeze my hand. I give him a sad smile.

“I’m so sorry” He says softly, “Its okay. I’m just glad your back”

VIRGINIA BARN - CISTERN ROOM - DAY-

The basement is lit by work lights creating eerie shadows across a large, coffin-sized FREEZER. A RACK OF LARGE GLASS SLIDES, like the ones that encased Beverly Katz, lines a wall near the BUZZ SAW that sliced her into vertical slabs. For a BRIEF MOMENT, Will sees BEVERLY'S REFLECTION in a pane of glass. He averts eyes inadvertently toward a kill room.

Linoleum is rolled out on the wooden floor to give a cleanable surface. Centered on it is an AUTOPSY TABLE, stainless steel picking up highlights, a drain running around the sides -- a pipe running into a vat beneath. A roll of KNIVES and SURGICAL INSTRUMENTS upon it. Will eyes several heavy GLASS JARS filled with BLOOD resting on another table.

“It's Beverly Katz's blood. He drained her before he froze her. Before he cut into her.” I say as I look around the uneasy basement that housed the souls of many lost.

Bunches of DYING FLOWERS, VINES and BRANCHES are on the autopsy table, coiled in a withering mass. Will looks at the file as Jack and I walk him through the space, toward a pair of raised CISTERN OPENINGS.

“The Chesapeake Ripper's most-recent victim drowned in this cistern. The water in his lungs led us here.” Jack says as he looks into one of the two cisterns, black water halfway up its walls. Above each cistern, a BLOCK AND TACKLE hangs from a hook in the ceiling. Jack moves to the dry cistern.

“We found Miriam down there.” I say softly, remembering the thank you she had given me. “She believes the Ripper brought her here to kill her. He was saving her to be his last victim. He

knows we're close to catching him.” Jack says, It’s laughable that Jack thinks He’d let us catch him. We’ll know who he is yes. But Catch Him? No. Not unless thats specifically what he wants.

“He's been caught before. Catch a fish once and it gets away, it's a lot harder to catch a second time.” Will says as Jack watches Him as he surveys the room. Will Graham takes a breath, exhales, then closes his eyes.

A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Will Graham’s mind, keeping rhythm with his heartbeat. FWUM. FWUM. “Let’s do what we do best…” I whisper softly to him. His eyes are closed. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings behind Will and Y/N, Jack Crawford recedes into the shadows. FWUM. The PENDULUM swings on the other side of the

room, disappearing evidence markers and work lights. FWUM. The dying flowers, vines and branches on the table REJUVENATE and BLOOM ANEW, restored to a fresh state of life.

The crime scene has now been decriminalized in Will's head. Will opens his eyes to DARKNESS.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE (WILL'S POV)-

the TREE MAN in full bloom, in front of Will, rooted to the floor of Hannibal's office. Tree Man's

branches grow, reaching out of him and stretching to the ceiling. Will takes it all in. “I sewed the seeds and watched them grow. I cultivated a long chain of events leading to this. This, all of this, has been my design.” A dramatic THEATER CURTAIN closes on the proscenium arch of Hannibal's office.

VIRGINIA BARN - CISTERN ROOM - DAY-

Will glances down at the cistern. “It's theater.” I say as Will unceremoniously closes the cistern lid. The irony really. I grew up on stage, I stopped performing when I moved in with Uncle Stephen. But Hannibal seems to keep dragging me on for an encore. We’re all Actors in a meticulously written Play.

“Every time the Chesapeake Ripper kills, it's theater.” Jack says tiredly, “The Chesapeake Ripper didn't bring Miriam here to kill her. He brought her here for you to find.” Will says as he comes up behind me, his hand grazing my lower back. “The Ripper isn't self-destructive. He doesn't want to get caught.”

“He wants you to catch someone. Like he wanted you to catch me. Somewhere, in all this evidence, you'll find something that will lead you away from Hannibal Lecter.” Will says, causing me to actually laugh. “Miriam Lass already has.” Jack says, I place a hand over my face still silently laughing.

“Two years is a long time to have Hannibal in your head. You can't trust her, Jack. You can't trust

any of this to be what it seems.” I say that warningly. Jack Crawford considers that warning...

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - DAY-

The house sits nestled amidst bare trees and snow. Silence. Will walks up to the porch,

enjoying the crunch of fresh snow underfoot. The door OPENS revealing Y/N inside. She barely has time to greet Will before THE DOGS squeeze past her. Will rushes to meet them as they bound up to him, and he is engulfed in their unbridled joy. He drops to his knees in the snow as he pets them. I cannot help but smile.

“Welcome home.” I say softly, “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of them. They seem happy.”

“Happy to see you.” Will is momentarily overwhelmed with the dogs swarming around him, each wanting to greet and lick. He notices a NEW DOG. “Who's this?”

“‘Luna. She's mine. She’s my second. I rescued her.” I attach a lead to Luna's collar. “Picking up some of my bad habits?”

“Picking up your good habits…..” I sigh “Will. I- I know about Hannibal. And I knew about Abigail. And I knew something was wrong with you. I know so much more than I let on-” I say with a shaky tone, “Y/N. I know. I knew you knew. And I know it’s hard.” Will stands up and Holds me as I cry softly in his arms.

“Will?” I lift my head from his chest. “Hmm?” He asks as he looks down at me.

“Did you really order for Hannibal’s death?” I ask as I look into his eyes. He takes a deep breath and continues to look at me. “Y/N….”

“Something’s changed within you. You used to be terrified of yourself, so unsure. But now you- you make definitive decisions and have motives behind them. Will-” He cups my face with one of his hands. “Y/N. You are Brilliant and Gorgeous. And you Think like no one else does. But we both know What Hannibal is. And I won't risk Him hurting you or worse.”

FBI - MIRIAM LASS'S DORM - DAY-

Miriam's hands as she scratches her prosthesis. “Are you an FBI agent?” Will and Y/N are in the room with Miriam. “She is. I used to teach at the Academy. Two days ago, I was an inmate at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Courtesy of the Chesapeake Ripper.” Will says as he sits in front of Her.

“The Guru told me the only people who demonstrated any practical understanding of the Ripper are you two. Didn't mention you were a victim.” Miriam says confused, i raise an eyebrow; “The Guru?”

“Jack Crawford. We called him the Guru. He has a peculiar cleverness.”

“The Guru tells me you don't remember much about what the Chesapeake Ripper did to you. I couldn't remember either.”

“Couldn't?”

“I remember now. Not all of it. Pieces. I was under his influence. The Chesapeake Ripper used some kind of light to induce seizure responses in my brain. He created blackouts and lost time.”

Miriam quietly breathes, struggling with the familiarity of what Will is telling her. Her voice is just above a whisper. In the safety of the FBI, it's still terrifying to recall.

“I remember the light. He always stood in front of it, at a distance from me, silhouetted, very still.” The CHAMBER MUSIC, heard earlier, begins to fill her mind. “Like we were in the garden of the hurricane's eye. He would play chamber music. I still hear it.” Will reacts, hearing the familiar haunting SOLO CELLO that plagued his own nightmares rising in his ears.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT -

Hannibal comes into the dark room. Moves toward the refrigerator. Stops. Lifts his nose to the air. “The same unfortunate aftershave. Too long in the bottle.” Hannibal opens the refrigerator door and the light illuminates a gun pointed at his head, Will Graham behind it. “Our last kitchen conversation was interrupted by Jack Crawford. I'd like to pick up where we left off. If memory serves, you were asking me if it'd feel good to kill you.”

“You've given that some thought.” Hannibal says as he fully Turns to Will.“You wanted me to embrace my nature, doctor. Just following the urges I kept down for so long, cultivating them as the inspirations they are.”

“You never answered my question. How would killing me make you feel?”

“Righteous.”

“Aren't you curious, Will? Why you? Why Miriam Lass? What does the Chesapeake Ripper want with you?”

“You tell me. How did Miriam Lass find you? You made sure no one could find you that way again.” Hannibal looks past the gun barrel, into Will's eyes. “If I'm not the Ripper, you murder an innocent man. You better than anyone know what it is to be wrongly accused. You were innocent, Will, and no one saw it.”

“Y/N saw it and I'm not innocent. You saw to that.” Will says with a dark tone. Y/N was right, Will had definitely changed.

“If I am the Ripper and you kill me, who will answer your questions? Don't you want to know how it ends?” Will doesn't respond, he just slowly steps backward into the shadows, disappearing into darkness. HANNIBAL watches the space where Will stood.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY -

Miriam looks at Jack, who nods at her, and she moves around the room. Hannibal's very aware of this, sensing an agenda. “I would have been happy to come to your office, Jack.”

“I wanted to do this here.” Jack says seriously. “I'm sure you have your reasons.”

Miriam crosses to the table with Hannibal's drawings. In a conscious repeat, Hannibal steps behind Miriam as she leafs through his drawings. HANNIBAL looms over her shoulder. “These are beautiful. Yours?” Miriam picks up a PORTRAIT DRAWING and studies it. “I enjoy portraiture. A subject's mental processes betrayed only by the expression on their face.”

“Miriam, I thought Dr. Lecter could be helpful during your recovery.” Jack says to Hannibal as He stares at the pair. “The most-important aspect of a successful recovery is recognizing that life will never be the same.” Hannibal says to The F.B.I Agents. “Then I'm well on my way to a successful recovery.” Miriam says with a cautious sarcasticness. “The Chesapeake Ripper sent me a message from you. It was recorded shortly after you were taken.” Jack explains to her.

“It's me? My voice?”

“Yes. I debated whether I should play it for you. Still debating.”

“I want to hear it.” He presses "play." she listens to her terrified voice. Jack watches Hannibal watching her, steely. “Jack... Jack, it's Miriam. I don't know where I am. I can't see anything. I was so wrong. Please, Jack. I don't wanna die like this.” Tears well in Miriam's eyes as the message cuts out. She remains quiet for a long moment, reeling, finally: “I don't remember it.” Miriam's hand absently scratches against her prosthetic.

“Would you like to try?” We HEAR the ambient noise of Miriam's breathing, heartbeat and circulatory system. EERIE CHORUS OF VOICES “You're waking now. Waking, calm. Waking in a pleasant room. Safe.” The CHORUS OF VOICES unifies into a single voice: “Open your eyes.”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY-

The drapes are drawn and the room is dark. Miriam now sits opposite Hannibal. A METRONOME and LIGHT pulsing between them. Jack stands behind Hannibal, in the shadows. We hear a phone line RINGING, waiting for the line to pick up.

She holds a phone to her cheek, the light of the keypad the only source of illumination. The PHONE CONTINUES TO RING until an automated answer: “Jack Crawford.” Then a BEEP tells us to leave a message.

Jack watches Miriam, over Hannibal, from the shadows. Hating this. Miriam's hand absently scratches her prosthesis. “I was so wrong. Please, Jack. I don't want to die like this.”

“Miriam, what was the last thing you remember before making that call, before waking in the darkness?” She looks past the strobing METRONOME to Jack in the shadows. The shadows seem to recede around him even as the blackness deepens. Jack looks at Miriam, and then, as she watches – his TORSO suddenly SPROUTS WOUNDS AND IMPLEMENTS, they burst

backward from his body and he becomes a standing WOUND MAN.

She averts her eyes from Jack Crawford as Wound Man, glancing down to see she's holding the WOUND MAN DRAWING -- the last thing she saw before Hannibal choked her unconscious.

“The Wound Man.”

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-

ZELLER and PRICE are presenting to Jack, Alana and Y/N.

“We found a fingerprint on a flower petal. A partial smudge. Not enough points for a courtroom, but it triggered a match. Hannibal Lecter.” Jimmy says to us as he turns the computer monitor. Alana looks shocked. Jack's world takes another turn. I don’t know why but I feel a sense of dread about our findings.

“After all these murders, the Ripper's gonna leave a print now?” Zeller says confused. Because he wants to frame someone else. “Will said whatever evidence we found would lead us away from the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack says, I shake my head with a soft scoff.

“We also found sodium amytal and scopolamine in Miriam's blood.” Zeller points out the blood results.“Dr. Chilton used scopolamine and sodium amytal on both Gideon and Will during their therapy. One claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper, the other accused Hannibal.” Alana says and I close my eyes, Of course. Frederick.

“"You've got the right box, just looking in the wrong corner." Gideon pointed me right at him, told me Chilton was the Ripper.” Jack says, trying to make sense of everything. “Wait. I'm confused. Who are we saying is the Chesapeake Ripper? Dr. Lecter or Dr. Chilton?” Jimmy says with furrowed brows.

“Bring them both in.”

DR. CHILTON'S HOUSE - ENTRY HALL - DAY-

Chilton lets himself in through the front door and throws his keys onto a dresser. Walks into the house. He throws his coat over a chair back and then stops. Listens. A faint, regular BEEPING can be heard. Slow and rhythmic.

Chilton moves toward it, like SONAR PINGING. It gets louder at the foot of the stairs and he starts to ascend. Following the beeps like a beacon, drawing him closer.

DR. CHILTON'S HOUSE - UPSTAIRS LANDING - DAY-

Chilton comes up the stairs, onto the landing. The beeps are getting louder. A steady pulse. Confused and tense, Chilton moves down the hall. The slow beep plays a double rhythm with his own faster- beating heart. The beeps get louder… BEEP, BEEP... Getting slower...BEEP.... BEEP. Slower still. Winding down.

DR. CHILTON'S HOUSE - GUEST BEDROOM - DAY-

The slow beep becomes a SOLID TONE as Dr. Chilton pushes open the door and steps inside and – STOPS DEAD.

ABEL GIDEON -- now missing all four limbs -- lies on a bed. An IV drip under one clavicle, wounds neatly bandaged. The TONE rises up, becoming louder and louder in Chilton's

head. Overpowering his now-THUNDERING HEARTBEAT. Despite himself, Chilton moves forward, fascination and dread combined.

All Gideon's limbs have been neatly removed. He stares, lifeless, at the ceiling. DEAD.

Chilton stares until finally he breaks the spell. Knows he is in trouble. Turns and runs for the stairs -- the TONE receding behind him.

DR. CHILTON'S HOUSE - ENTRY HALL - DAY-

Dr. Chilton comes hard and fast down the stairs, panicked. And falls headlong over a PACKED SUITCASE at the foot of the stairs. It wasn't there before. Chilton is sprawled, looks up as a pair of well-shined shoes appears before him. “Oh My God”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY-

Hannibal moves from the timer to the oven and opens the door. Pulls out the tray onto the worktop. The roast looks fabulous, steaming and juicy and brown. He savors the aroma.

Smiles to himself, pleased with it.

“Are you absolutely sure I can't interest you in a bite?” Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price standing on the other side of the counter. “We need to get going, Dr. Lecter.” Zeller says as he wouldn't eat the meat anyway. “Will we be long? Only asking if I should refrigerate or cover and cool on the counter?”

“Put it in the fridge.”

DR. CHILTON'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN - DAY-

Dr. Chilton sits in an armchair. His eyes are closed. He stirs. Groans. Licks his lips. Rubs his face with a hand and it leaves a thick smear of blood down his cheek... Slowly, his eyes open. Groggy. He comes to, looks down at himself. His clothes are covered in blood. One hand holds a bloody chef's knife. There is a bloodied FBI-issue automatic handgun in his lap. He takes this in. Can't remember. Disbelieving. His own bloody footprints track across the floor from the kitchen --Where two DEAD FBI AGENTS have been displayed.

The first sits on the kitchen worktop, a curved gash in his abdomen. His intestines are looped around and tied into a large, ostentatious bow. The second is lying on the floor, kitchen knives and implements sticking from his bare torso -- a conscious reconstruction of the Jeremy Olmsted/Wound Man killing.

Chilton drops the knife. He stands and the gun thumps to the floor. He staggers closer to the bodies. A hand to his thumping head, leaving another blood smear. Up close, the tableau is even more horrific. Dazed, he picks up the gun and grabs a couple of suitcases.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - DAY-

Will Graham sits with a case file, reading, the dogs at his Feet and Y/N’s head resting on his shoulder. The pack of dogs all jumps up as one, BARKING and agitated. Will Graham moves to the window.

Dr. Chilton, his coat thrown over his bloody clothes, pulls his RED SPORTS CAR up before the house. The stolen gun lies on the passenger seat and he puts it in a pocket before getting out of the car. He grabs his suitcases out of the trunk and starts walking for the house.

Chilton approaches, the front door opens and the dogs stream, BARKING, onto the porch and down at him. He stops dead, frightened. Looks up at Will and Y/N as he comes closer.

“May I use your shower, please?”

DR. CHILTON'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY-

Jack Crawford is standing near the dead FBI agents, stares at Gideon's body being wheeled

through the house. Jimmy Price is with him.“Gideon hasn't been dead long, no more than a couple of hours. Chilton's been cutting steaks off of him for days.” Jimmy says from beside him.

Brian Zeller emerges from the library, holding an OLD MEDICAL TEXT. He approaches Jack, who stands over the Wound Man corpse. Zeller indicates the library he just came from. “Chilton's shelves are filled with old medical books.” Zeller opens a book revealing an illustration of Wound Man. “Wound Man.”

“This illustration's in a lot of early surgical texts. It's the Ripper's sixth victim.”

“Chilton was consulting on the Ripper case when Miriam disappeared. She must've talked to him, made the connection. Beverly made a connection, too.” Jack stares at the illustration, cold getting colder. “Chilton's been part of the Ripper investigation since before Will Graham, before Hannibal Lecter, before Miriam Lass. He had access to case files, he knew everything the Ripper needed to know.”

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - DAY -

“Frederick?” I call out softly as he sits dazed on Will’s couch Freshly showered. Clothes

Changed. “Y/N…” He looks up at me, his Breathing Ragged. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” I say as I sit down next to him. I wish this didn't happen. But of course Hannibal would make Fredrick his fall guy. “Frederick, I'm not gonna tell you to not run. If i was you I’d be almost to Italy. But what I am going to tell you is to be smart. You're an Intelligent man and a Good Psychiatrist, given with some ethical issues. You’re my Friend and I wish this wasn't Happening to you. But all I ask is for you to be Smart.” I say softly as he looks in my eyes and then nods. I stand up and join Will in the Kitchen. WILL GRAHAM'S KITCHEN - DAY -

Will watches as Chilton paces, freshly showered, clothes changed, hyped, brain working overtime:

“I have the same profile as Hannibal Lecter. Same medical and psychology background. We are both doctors of note in our fields. Of course it would be me. Hannibal was never going to kill me. I'm his patsy.” Frederick says as he pulls on his coat. “I as well have the same profile As you and Hannibal lecter” I say softly, He scoffs “No… The only difference is that you're a young woman. I have to leave the country. I'm leaving the country.”

“If you run, you look guilty.” Will says as he runs his hand up and down my back. He knows this is hard for me since Frederick is my friend.

“You didn't run and you looked plenty guilty. Abel Gideon was half-eaten in my guest room. I gun from his pocket and points it at a suddenly-wary Will.

“Will…What have you Done?”

“I called Jack Crawford.” Chilton shakes his head. “Frederick….” I say Warningly as I start to stand slowly. It wasn’t my idea. No, no, no…” He backs to the window, gun Flipping to Y/N. Looks out. Jack Crawford is getting out of his car and walking toward the house. Will moves toward the front door. “No. Stay there.”

“You're not a killer, Frederick.” CHILTON -- behind the gun -- and he knows he won't fire. I turn to Frederick, “I’ll Try to give you A Head start. Go.” I say quickly and he nods.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - DAY-

Will walks onto the porch to meet Jack Crawford. Comes down the steps. Jack's face is murderous. “Why did you come alone, Jack?”

“Where is he?”

“Why did you come alone?”

“Is he in the house?” Jack says trying to get into the house but Will pushes him back.“I told you everything isn't what it seems. The Chesapeake Ripper is playing with us. All of us.” Will says to the man who clearly isn’t thinking straight.

“I'm not playing.”

“You going to kill Chilton? Jack up the law and get underneath it?” Will raises a brow trying to reason with the murderous man. But all Jack does is bite back: “You wagging the same tongue that gave the order to kill Hannibal?”

“Difference is, Chilton's not the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal is.”

“The Chesapeake Ripper isn't playing all of us, Will. He's playing you.” Jack goes to enter. Will steps in his way. “Jack. Wait. Let me bring him out. He's got a gun.” Jack holds Will's gaze. Pulls out his own gun. “Good.”

He pushes past Will and walks up the steps, onto the porch. He steps in fast, gun first. Ready to fire. “Jack! Don’t!” I say as he marches up to me. “Where is He Y/N!” He says like a man on a mission, “Jack Please….He didn’t do this” “Y/N Where is He.” He says Dangerously, my eyes sadly drift to The back door swinging Closed...

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - WOODS - DAY-

The bare skeletal trees black against the crisp white snow. totally-inappropriate shoes crunch through the snow, the owner tripping and stumbling --Frederick stumbles through the woods -- away from Will's house. JACK CRAWFORD -- plowing through the snow after him. Gun at the ready. Bloodlust high in him.

Dr. Chilton stumbles, falls, dropping the gun he carries. He grabs it up and fights to his feet, gasping, terrified...“CHILTON?!!!” A raw yell -- it echoes through the woods. Chilton hears it around him, as if surrounded, and redoubles his efforts. He crosses a FROZEN STREAM, the ice cracking under his feet, the water below sucking off his shoes. He clambers up the other side...

Jack progresses faster, more determined. Following the footprints ahead of him. Breaking into a run. Jack sees the limping silhouette of Chilton ahead of him. “Chilton!” He raises his gun and fires. THUNK! The bullet scatters splinters from a tree as Chilton passes it. KA-CHOO, KA-CHOO, KA-CHOO -- the receding echoes of the shot ring around the woods.

Dr. Chilton moves into a snow-filled clearing amidst the trees. Staggers across it. “Stop right where you are.”

Chilton turns to face his hunter. Jack has his gun at arm's length, sighting down the barrel.

Jack's finger on the trigger. As Jack approaches, Chilton drops to his knees in the snow.

He holds out his arms like a penitent. Like Jesus on the cross. as the gun falls from Chilton's fingers and nestles in the snow. Jack moves toward Chilton, finger aching on the trigger. His ‘nemesis’ finally before him.

Jack stops ten feet from Chilton who gasps, exhausted. Head down. His arms slowly FALL TO HIS SIDES. JACK, finger tightening on the trigger, conflicted. Chilton looks up at him. Scared. Exhausted and empty.

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-

Dr. Chilton's face is now clean of blood. He looks exhausted, standing on a white sheet as he hands his clothes to Jimmy Price. Brian Zeller writes down the inventory…”...one two-piece suit in charcoal gray, one white shirt, fifteen-inch collar, one billfold containing cash, credit cards and driver's license. One set of car keys…” Chilton stares forward. “I need to speak with Will Graham. Or Dr. L/N.”

“I don't care what you need.” Their hatred is palpable. CHILTON -- his predicament landing hard. “One Montblanc fountain pen in silver and black…”

BAU - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY-

Dr. Chilton now sits opposite Alana Bloom and Y/N is against the wall watching sadly. He is cuffed to the table and wears an ORANGE JUMPSUIT. “Does it have to be you Two? It seems like a final indignity.”

“Not like you to hide an achievement.” Alana says softly, disgusted by the man she once called friend. “The achievement is not mine.”

“Whose is it? Hannibal Lecter's?” Alana asks, still refusing to open her eyes. “Those are just words coming out of your mouth. No weight to them. No consideration they may be true.” Frederick says blankly as his eyes go to me. “They're not true. You were using coercive therapies, influencing Abel Gideon and Will Graham to point the Ripper investigation in false directions.” Alana says, I know why Everyone thinks it is so but I also know why it is not.

“You can't see it. And you won't see it until it's too late. Don't say I didn't warn you, Dr. Bloom.” He stares at the TWO-WAY MIRROR they are reflected in. JACK AND MIRIAM Stand in the viewing room. Watching this interview. She stares at Chilton. Her prosthetic arm is folded across her chest. She scratches it furiously with the other hand.

“In fact, I believe those should be my last words on the subject of the Ripper until my lawyer arrives.” Frederick says before going silent. As I nod softly.

Miriam is shaking. Jack watches her. as she unravels. The shaking is involuntary, some giant feeling trying to escape. Tears fall down her cheeks.

“It's him. It's him. It's him.” Jack moves to her, her distress is all the answer he needs, and he grabs her in a bear hug. Pulling her to him, her eyes away from the glass. A moan escapes her as she cries into Jack's shoulder. She rocks against him and then pushes away. He releases her. Realizes too late that she now holds his gun. Miriam lifts the gun and aims. Fires through the glass.

the glass spiderwebbing around the hole. Through the hole, we PUSH IN on Miriam behind the gun barrel. As the bullet hits Chilton in the face, his head snaps back and he goes over backward in a spray of blood. Alana diving for cover. Y/N Gasps loudly.

ALANA -- on the floor, looking at Chilton who lies half-up,half-down, his body held up awkwardly by the shackles on his wrists. Blood ripping from his ravaged face to the floor. Y/N Moves to try and help him. Her Medical instincts Kicking in.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT-

Hannibal Lecter sits in one of the two armchairs. A glass of red wine in hand. Enjoying the music. A KNOCK at the door disturbs his reverie. He places his glass down and goes to the door. Opens it to find Will Graham. Will has cut his hair – shorter, neater. Everything about him seems focused. “Hello, Will.”

“May I come in?” Will asks Softly, “Do you intend to point a gun at me?”

“Not tonight.” He lets Will into the room. “Are you expecting someone?” Will asks as he knows the only person Hannibal’s expecting is him. “Only you.” Will smirks: “Kept my standing appointment open.” it's a statement not a question. “And you're right on time.”

“I have to deal with you. And my feelings about you. I think it's best if I do that directly.” Will says as he glances around the familiar room. “First you have to grieve for what is lost and what has changed.” Hannibal Gazes at the changed man. Proud he changed him. “I've changed. You changed me.”

“The friendship that we had is over. The Chesapeake Ripper is over.” Hannibal says inquisitively “It had to be Miriam, didn't it? She was compelled to take his life so she could take her own back.” Will asks as he places his Jacket on his Chair. “How will you take your life back?”

“I'd like to resume my therapy.” Hannibal stares as Will sits in his familiar chair. After a long moment, Hannibal follows suit and sits opposite him. the two of them silhouetted in their chairs, regarding each other.

“Where shall we begin?” As the corners of Will's mouth threat to curl...

#hannibal nbc #hannigram #hannibal x reader #hannigram x reader #fem!reader #will graham x reader #twistedminds #hannibal lecter #will graham

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aerkame · 1 year ago

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Will there be antagonist(s) or rivals or some threats in the finfolk fic? Maybe some hunters who are experienced in tracking down and capturing mythological creatures, as in knows how to avoid getting caught, how to handle them, etc. Someone who actually possesses a threat to home? Or how about since Sally goes on killing spares it’s very likely that the murders will end up attracting attention of some curious puppets, maybe some wannabe crime detectives or a folklorist? Sorry for my rambling, you don’t have to answer this ask.

Oh nono, I love seeing asks so it's fine! :)

Warning: This is very short and not read well since it's 3am and my brain is half asleep writing this 👍

There are actually puppets aware that Finfolk exist, but usually they keep low and hide in fear of getting killed. It's those seeking revenge or seeking Finfolk out of curiosity that end up looking around for them.

But...

I did actually have a rival in mind and it's in relation to the wolf OC I made a day ago along with that bird squad I drew. It's the sheep (or ram, it's undecided) that has been tracking the neighbors down despite their efforts to throw them off. You'd think they would just kill the puppet, but they've had a hard time surprisingly. You see, when you kill enough puppets, there tends to be a growing number of witnesses left to take care of. And sometimes there's too many to just kill. You can't get rid of a town's entire population you know? So they do what they can to wipe memories and minds alike, but for once, they missed one. And it's that one puppet that grew aware of their presence. The neighbors are aware of the sheep/ram's whereabouts, they just can't decide how to take care of the situation. They're too suspicious of new people now, and any attempts at direct contact are met with threats of leaking evidence. They even tried infiltrating government officials to get them arrested but the sheep/ram had fled before then. There's a motive to this tracking, naturally. They want revenge on whoever killed their family. (It was probably Sally, Julie, or Wally)

I mean, all they have left is their crush (that being the wolf). And they'd do anything to keep their love safe. It just so happens to mean killing off whoever killed his family first.

I did want to draw a comic for the next bit on this backstory though.

Eventually, they did turn to drastic measures when a Finfolk had gravely wounded the sheep/ram. Using their own blood to summon a demon, they made a deal for half their lifespan in exchange for their power. (I am aiming for this character to kind of lose it really so tw in that I guess?) It does boil down to them being captured and held by Wally in front of Home though, having almost killed several Finfolk in a blind rage. Home does end up convincing the sheep/ram to give in and become a Finfolk for the guaranteed safety of the wolf lover and a chance at a happy life with their love (all of their actions caused Finfolk outside of Home to target the wolf as well as the sheep/ram). Which the sheep/ram accepts. Never finding out who killed their family. So now we got a demon sheep/ram, Finfolk hybrid ready that's completely crazed.

ANYWAYS, the comic I wanted to draw was when the wolf is slowly realizing the sheep/ram has lost it as a Finfolk now. That or some dialogue between Wally and the sheep/ram where they discuss a deal they're making between the love's safety and becoming a Finfolk willingly under Home.

I really need to just give them names so it's less confusing...

#welcome home #welcome home finfolk au #welcome home au #finfolk #welcome home arg #wally darling #au #welcome home wally darling #welcome home oc #oc #ocs #welcome home ocs

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peachypede · 10 months ago

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betrayal, future and wound for Aman? 👀

This one got LONG but also deals with a lot of heavy topics. I’ve put trigger warnings for the answers that need them.

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

- Luckily for Aman, no one he’s TRUSTED has betrayed him. Key word is trusted. He’s had plenty of conmen and criminal backstab him at any given time, but he didn’t really trust them.

- IF he was ever betrayed by someone he trusted, he wouldn’t be able to recover. It’s not just a betrayal of that person but a betrayal to himself. Aman prides himself in his smarts and if his wit has failed him and someone has fooled him, then what can he really trust?

- Aman has betrayed many people. It comes with his job. He often disguises himself as a grunt to an evil team just to take down that evil team. He’s made friends during this with other grunts. Young people thinking that their boss’s plans were just and good. They’re the only ones he feels bad about betraying.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Tw: murder mentions

- There are a couple of aus that incorporate a worse future for Aman, but mostly they stem from whether or not Aman’s family’s car was sabotaged.

- In the event that Aman’s family never went in the car that day and his parents never died, Aman would still have been a yakuza prince and his father would eventually get rid of Aman’s mother because he would think the mother made Aman too soft. This would happen around the time that Aman is a teenager and Aman definitely would have his revenge on his father for killing the only person that mattered to him. This would lead to Aman replacing his father and becoming a much more cruel person than he is in the regular au. It does not help that his father did set him up to be insanely successful as a crime boss. Aman got his mother’s good looks and pair that with his father’s cunning and charisma, you have a very dangerous individual for this kind of business.

- However, if we keep to the normal au, the worst future for Aman is if one of his loved ones gets hurt by whatever organization he is attempting to take down. Aman makes a lot of precautions, especially since he’s close to family while working in Unova. It’d kill him if anyone gets hurt, but I feel like Pecha or Rawst getting hurt specifically would hurt him immensely to the point of quitting Interpol all together. Pecha is the closest thing to a mother-figure he’s had since his mom died, despite her being his cousin (I’m thinking like how Sokka from ATLA says that whenever he tries to remember what his and Katara’s mother looked like, all he can see is Katara’s face.) and Rawst is like his little sibling that he does everything to protect. They’re innocent and so naive to the cruel realities of the world and Aman has worked hard to keep it that way for them, so anything happening to them guts his drive to keep going with his work.

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Tw: Mentions of child abuse, child injury, and grooming a child for a crime syndicate. Also some references to self harm via getting hurt by other people.

Woo boy…Sorry this turned REALLY heavy but Aman is a very fucked up person underneath the smug mask.

- Aman handles physical pain extremely well because he’s often used to being in pain a majority of the time. Phantom pains are very common since he’s missing two limbs, and suffers from pain in his back from pulling around two prosthetic all day every day. Since he’s been dealing with this since he was a child, his pain tolerance is much higher than a normal person. So much so that if medical professionals ask him where he scales his pain, it’s very difficult for him to answer. He has been able to shrug off the pain of a bullet wound and walked calmly into a hospital, much to the terror of the nurses there.

- Although Aman has a lot of physical wounds, he also has plenty of mental and emotional wounds. He’s been to therapy as a child but he still has a hard time dealing his PTSD from his childhood with not just the accident, but also the emotional abuse he suffered from his biological father, and working at Interpol has only resurfaced all these problems. His father was a crime lord to a yakuza family and since Aman was next in line he was already being groomed for his father’s position at a very young age. A lot of this incorporated desensitizing Aman to illegal and inhumane activities. He may or may not have seen a man being tortured by his father. He feels immensely guilty about that last one. Despite being a child he feels like he could’ve done something.

- Aman handles emotional pain a lot different than physical pain. Physical pain is just easier. It hurts on the outside. But emotional pains hits him harder and eats away at him. He’s likely to drink down the feelings if he encounters heavy emotional pain. In an attempt to escape further, Aman likes getting into fights where he’ll get physical hurt just so the pain can be on the outside instead of inward. This can also lead to enjoying inflicting pain towards people he thinks deserves it as well. Catharsis but in an unhealthy way.

- The worst wounds he’s encountered were losing his right limbs, of course. He also got heavily burned on the right side of his body from the “car accident” that killed his parents. He misses both his parents, even if he harbors a lot of hatred and resentment towards his father.

#oc aman #me most of the time: ehehe Aman is a such a silly guy who likes pushing people’s buttons #me other times: Aman is really fucked up actually

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haus-der-mysterionmusen · 1 year ago

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(TW: murder, gore)

One cold night, Yuno will hear the rhythmic sound of steel chopping down on a hard substance like wood. Venturing to the source of the noise will reward her with the sight of Rena attempting to amputate the corpse of Mamiya Rina in the depths of the junkyard.

Eyes flashing open and locking onto the source of a footstep she hears, Rena stares at Yuno in apprehension and grips her cleaver harder, wondering whether Yuno would be willing to hear her side of the story...or if she's going to have to dispatch this witness to her crime.

"Yu...no..."

"I'm surprised. You should really be more careful. Anyone who knows you would know to look for you at the junkyard, you're very lucky it was only me. Imagine what would happen if someone told the police to look for you here." Yuno replies. Her usual squeaky voice and cute smile were completely unchanged even in such a circumstance. In fact she didn't seem bothered by this turn of events at all.

#cauaullection #Muse - Yuno #sorry sorry sorry for the wait on this ask

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taterturnspages · 2 years ago

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THE CLIENT BY JOHN GRISHAM - BOOK REVIEW

Genre(s): Fiction, Legal Thriller, Mystery, & Suspense

No Spoilers

TW: mention of suicide, PTSD/child trauma

SYNOPSIS:

‘The Client’ by John Grisham follows eleven-year-old Mark Sway after he and his little brother, Ricky, witness a suicide of a well-known lawyer, Jerome Clifford, who was defending a high-profile case involving the murder of Senator Boyd Boyette. Mark and Ricky attempt to put a stop to the suicide attempt, but Mr. Clifford had other plans. Mr. Clifford captures Mark and locks him inside of the vehicle. Mr. Clifford spills a major secret to Mark involving the Boyette case. Mark escapes the locked vehicle with the explosive secret and a hefty choice to make. After the media acknowledges Mark as a witness to the suicide and the police investigate the crime scene, the FBI is on Mark’s tail to reveal what he knows about the case.

Mark retains an amateur lawyer, Reggie Love, to guide him through the high-stakes pressure of the FBI hounding him for information, and the possibility of the Mafia tracking him for potentially holding information that could harm their case. Should Mark spill what he knows to the FBI and chance the Mafia finding him? Or, should Mark keep quiet and play the risky legal system game that could result in serious federal charges? Neither Mark or his lawyer knows the answer to this question. Reggie is willing to go to great lengths to protect Mark from the pressures surrounding him, even if that means both of their lives are in danger.

Mark needs to make a decision, but which will he choose?

READ THIS IF YOU:

Are a fan of ‘Law & Order’

Enjoy thriller books with a little more than just ‘true crime’

Need a page-turning suspense novel that you can’t put down, and when you HAVE to put it down to eat or go to work, you think about it 24/7

CHARACTERS:

This novel has an endless stream of characters with a ton of different FBI agents, Mafia men, Mark’s immediate family, court staff, and hospital staff. For that reason, I will only cover the two main characters, Mark and Reggie.

Mark Sway:

Despite Mark being only eleven years old, his wit and intelligence are far beyond his years. He has lucid moments of not being afraid of anyone or anything, but deep down he is just a kid and it’s comforting to see that he lets his childlike coping mechanisms take over at times. The book takes place over six days…SIX DAYS. The amount of things this child has went through in such a short period of time was tough to read, but he handled it like a champ and ALWAYS focused more on the feelings of those he cared about. His character made this book go the extra mile for me, because I was always thinking ‘What is Mark scheming next?’. He singlehandedly kept me on the edge of my seat.

Reggie Love:

Reggie has lived a troubled life, and that surely did not stop when Mark Sway entered her office. Reggie is a new lawyer and has only practiced for four years, but don’t let that fool you. She is a strong female character and an amazing lawyer. She makes sure to let everyone know that she will not tolerate anyone messing with her or Mark. Much like Mark, Reggie is stuck between a rock and a hard place. She is having trouble advising Mark on his decision, but she supports Mark nonetheless with every decision he makes. Again, Reggie also took this book to the extra mile for me. For Mark, he was now walking in a world with no trust and no allies. Reggie did her absolute best to assure Mark that she was by his side no matter what and I know that is exactly what Mark needed during all of this. I strongly believe that Reggie’s character was flawlessly written.

PRAISES, CRITIQUES, AND MY THOUGHTS:

I like to start my reviews with bad news first, and good news second to end on a happy note. So, first and foremost, my only issue with this book is that the ending was not nearly as exhilarating as I would have hoped. I keep all of my reviews free of spoilers, so I really can’t go into more detail there. I was hoping for an ending with more drama and more suspense. Don’t get me wrong, the ending was not predictable (in my opinion); it was just not as extreme as what I was hoping for out of a suspense novel.

Now with that out of the way, I’m going to explain why I loved this book so much. For starters, this book didn’t NEED a child as the main character. The story could have been written with an adult MC, but the fact that Mark paved the way in ‘The Client’ makes it that much more interesting, albeit upsetting because reading about these events happening to such a young child is devastating. But from a strict “fiction novel reviewer” perspective, I think the difference between child and adult MC was everything.

Second, Reggie Love is an ICON. She is unfettered, which after learning her backstory, was inspiring given all that she has been through. If I ever have legal troubles, I will do my best to find a real-life Reggie Love.

I highly recommend this book, as well as any of John Grisham’s novels, because they always knock it out of the park for me. I’m typically a strict romance reader, but every now and then I need to take romance breaks. During those times, I know that John Grisham will not disappoint. He has yet to prove me wrong there. All of his novels are legal thrillers and follow some sort of legal problem, so if you find interest in the legal system, then John Grisham may be the author you’re missing.

#bookworm #book review #bookblr #reading #john grisham #the client #book journal #digital journal #bookaholic #thriller books #legal thriller

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roryjackson · 2 years ago

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⋆ Rory Collins Jackson ⋆ The Baby ⋆ 18 ⋆

Full Name: Lorelai Juliet Collins Jackson Nickname(s): Ror, Baby Jackson DOB: August 2, 1967 Gender: Cis woman Sexuality: Bisexual Job: Primarily a student, but also working part time at the Cherry Museum (and perpetually picking up shifts at Maraschino Music) Major: Undecided Living Arrangements: Currently living with her uncle and cousin, but she & Zahra are trying to save up to move out together + : Trusting, kind, enthusiastic, brave, supportive, - : Naïve, over-sensitive, stubborn, anxious, clumsy,

& more! stats! here!

Bio:

(tw for child abuse, domestic violence, & *literal* murder)

It’s somewhat difficult to reach “townie” status in a town as small as Cherry if you weren’t born there. You’d think it would be even harder, when your arrival was somewhat of a shock to everyone involved. Thankfully even the nosiest old bats ladies in town couldn’t bring themselves to ask questions when they saw the grieving ten year old: deathly pale, save the only semi-visible splotches of purple and blue—bruises refusing to fade—that littered her body. It became an assumed tragedy, with most people believing both her parents died in some terrible accident. The truth was so much worse.

Rory was ushered into the Jacksons’ spare room (their town, their lives) in the predawn hours of an unusually cold May morning because after years of abusing her and her mother, her father had snapped, and done the unthinkable. he stabbed his wife to death, and had attempted to kill his daughter too, stopped only by the emergency personal arriving on the scene. Dan Collins was arrested, Eliza (Jackson) Collins was declared dead at the scene, and Rory? Rory was left effectively an orphan.

Luckily for her, Rocky Jackson was having none of that. He’d dropped everything when the police called—drove a few hours down the coast to identify his sister’s body, and to collect his traumatized niece. Only once he arrived, and quietly introduced himself as her mom’s brother, did Rory finally allow herself to be led into a bathroom so the dried blood could be scrubbed off of her skin.

The following months were brutal. She existed in a constant limbo between her new home in Cherry and her old town, where her father’s crime was the case of the decade. Reporters gathered outside the courthouse. She had to testify—had to sit on the witness stand just a few yards away from him. Rory was terrified of him. Terrified he would get off somehow, or escape prison, and come after her to finish what he’d started.

Even after the trial was over, she struggled to adjust. To grieve. Rory didn’t have a smile to give to her uncle, or a single word to say, except when she was getting into shouting matches with her cousin, or waking up in the night screaming from a night terror. Rocky could barely coax one word answers out of her, and the therapists he brought her to fared even worse. She sat through sessions the same way she sat through her classes: silently, staring at the floor. Until... Something changed. After months of tension and biting remarks, a switch seemed to flip between her and Zahra, and suddenly they were inseparable. And a quiet boy in Rory’s class started talking to her. It took time, but slowly, she started to uncurl from her tight coil of grief and anger. She recognized her mother’s smile in the mirror. Realized she wanted to see it more. She spent weekends on Zev’s floor, talking about movies, until it all hurt less and less. With support from her uncle, Zahra, and her new best friend, she began to blossom in Cherry.

But everything wasn’t magically fixed. Far from it. For all that Rory started to move on from the pain of losing her mom, she didn’t deal with it. She buried it. Tried to be the best niece she could possibly be to her uncle, the happiest, smiliest, easiest version of herself. Because that smile looked just like her mom’s, and if she couldn’t

That said, the chaos of high school wore heavily on Rory. Especially the “prank” of the box. And she hated to see someone messing with the people she cared about. Maybe that was why she threw herself into figuring out who was behind it all. With all of the LBD and Lux drama behind them, she’s really enjoying her first year of college. She can finally stress about normal things like her new classes, and dances, and parties. But her real biggest worry these days is her uncle—and money. He puts up a good front, but she knows Maraschino Music is struggling. That’s why she’s always picking up shifts there, and why she was so grateful to Donny for giving her an in at the museum. Rory owes her uncle everything. She’ll do whatever she can to help him.

Headcanons:

Rory’s very affectionate in most of her relationships, both platonic and romantic. She gives hugs away like spare change and lets “love you”s roll off her tongue without a second thought.

When she was little, Rory got stuck in the undertow in the ocean and almost drowned. Her father pulled her from the water physically pretty unscathed- but she’s still scared of drowning all these years later. It made the incident with the box all the worse.

Moving to Cherry didn’t cure her anxiety. That was a hard learned survival skill, growing up in her house, it wouldn’t be easy to let go. She’s still fairly shy in group situations outside of the gang. She certainly wasn’t popular at Cherry High, other than for being Zahra’s cousin, and then senior year after Zahra graduated, for being Bambi’s friend.

She likes to draw, mostly sketches in pencil or pen. She’s actually pretty good at it, but it’s just a hobby.

#intro #cusaintro

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ur-fav-album-is-a-rock-opera · 2 days ago

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Hallowed Ground by The Violent Femmes: If it were a rock opera

PREFACE: THIS IS NOT INTENDED TO BE A SERIOUS INTERPRETATION OF THE STORY OF THIS ALBUM. THIS IS PURPOSEFULLY A STRETCH.

Hallowed Ground presents a story of a family living on a haunted farm, build on sacred land, and how it leads to various awful events.

TW: murder

Country Death Song: A man living on a haunted farm begins to get more and more insane. This leads to him killing his daughter, and then himself.

I Hear the Rain: This song continues this storyline, showing the grief of the family after the events of Country Death Song-- sometimes from the perspective of the remaining siblings, slowly figuring out something is wrong with the farm, ("I HEAR THE RAIN, I HEAR THE RAIN"), the mom, ("SHE USED TO SIT AND WATCH THE RAIN NOW I THINK I'LL GO INSANE") and the dead father ("Bury me out on the lone prairie / prairie water washing over me", etc, verses)

Never Tell: Time skip a year or two to the future. The remaining siblings on the farm are brother and sister. The brother begins to feel the effects of the farm as well, and gets pulled into the underground crime ring of the south. He kills someone, and the sister witnesses it. He threatens her in order to keep her quiet.

Jesus Walking on the Water: The mother and her two children find solace in the church, singing a hymn, but sinister happenings still lurk beneath the exterior of happy church hymns.

I Know It's True but I'm Sorry to Say: The mother's slow ballad, lamenting her husband and daughter's death. She has started attempting to communicate with their ghosts, somewhat effectively. Their ghosts join her in a harmony.

Hallowed Ground: As the family falls deeper and deeper into despair, the sister becomes determined to find out what's wrong with her family's farm. She discovers the truth; the farm was built on sacred land, and is now terribly haunted. She starts planning to run away.

Sweet Misery Blues: Escaping from the farm, the sister is staying at a hotel in a faraway big city. She meets a man who attempts to seduce her. He promises a grandiose life, and says he'll take care of her and buy her things.

Black Girls: It turns out the guy that she met was kind of racist and kind of an idiot, so she's weirded out and leaves.

It's Gonna Rain: The sister makes a life for herself in the city, and leaves behind her past. She accepts the death of her father and sister, and stops worrying about her brother and mother, focusing on herself, calling back to the image of rain in I Hear The Rain-- but this time being happy and okay about it. It's *going* to rain, yes-- but it's alright.

Request albums in my asks or respond to this with an album request, and I might do it especially if I know it well! :)

--meow

#Violent femmes #the violent femmes #hallowed ground #violentfemmes #theviolentfemmes #hallowed ground violent femmes #folk punk #blister in the sun

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dxy-drxxm · 1 year ago

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⭐ | COMMISSION VI : Trial of the Deceased

TW: murder (implied), infidelity, mafia event spoilers (if you're not aware), death is implied if you squint

"So, we have ourselves a murder case, do we?"

"Attempted murder. The bastard didn't even finish the job."

"Oh, right. He did use Primordial Seawater, after all..."

Kunimitsu had mixed feelings about... The matter itself. It wasn't as though he was new to all of this— he's quite versed into the business of crimes and 'cleaning people up', to be fair.

But the idea of using Primordial Seawater all due to a simple argument... It reminded him of memories that is best contained from below.

Raising up the letter (which the wife had given them), the informant went through the contents of her written alibi again, brows furrowed in thought.

"She mentioned that he would sneak off every weekend, but she didn't knew how he got Primordial Seawater on her drinks," Navina mused, their grey yellow eyes going through the page. "If I remember correctly, it's very hard to get that from normal stores."

Kunimitsu raised an eyebrow at this, but he was examining their surroundings more as they were going to the direction that they were told to look for by a few... Individuals.

"And you're saying that it has the capability of dissolving people who are from Fontaine?"

"Mhm. I've witnessed it myself first hand in court with the traveler," they said, shuddering. "It was... Chilling. And I don't even know where the source of these things came from during Lyney's trial— all the traveler and I know is that Primordial Seawater is manufactured and that they're sold in vials."

... interesting.

I wonder how useful that'll be if I used it agai—

The albino stopped walking for a moment and pulled on Kunimitsu's kimono, causing him to stumble. He caught on his footing and glanced at them, about to ask what they were doing when he saw their expression.

The look of apprehension on their face made him quiet, his head turning to see the scene unfolding before them.

It seems as though they found the client's husband, judging by how he was being way too close to some merchants whose faces were hidden under their clothes. He raised his hand to offer cash to the merchant, to which they trade it off with vials.

And Navina knew what those are.

Pulling Kunimitsu out of sight, he stayed quiet as he watched them dug around for a Kamera. Their focused expression says it all as they retrieved it and faced the two men.

"... I just needed some more of these. I can't have my wife find out about her."

"Oh? Find out about your infidelity, huh? Well, I doubt she would. Has she drank it yet?"

"I don't think so, no. She was angry and went out to consult to her friends. I doubt she had the chance to drink it yet."

Hm... So, he's cheating on her, and then what?

"Hmph. You've been quite reckless, Reynold. What would she think of you? It would be quite terrible if she comes to the court after finding out about your shady deals here."

Their eyes widened at the information, and they raised their Kamera when the two men faced each other. This time, he was being traded a photograph.

Click. Click.

"I doubt it. Anyway, here's that photo you asked— I'm sure you'll have a lovely time getting someone to... Deal with her, if things fall through."

After the exchange, Navina took one last photo of the two separating before facing Kunimitsu, their face awfully pale from what the duo had heard.

No words needed to be explain between them.

A murder is about to occur.

"He's... Planning to kill me by that shady man he's been contacting with?"

"Yes, mrs. Marigold," Navina answered, their face grim as they handed her the photos they took. "Unfortunately, I was not able to record what was being spoken, but... The photos are enough to speak for itself."

They watched as the married woman took the photograph one by one, her expression crestfallen as she saw what they took. And considering their job as well...

"... I see. Thank you so much," she nodded, bowing at them. "Please, I... This will be enough for me to sue him in court."

Navina smiled and nodded, but their expression remained the same.

Kunimitsu didn't understood why at first, but then, it clicked in his head.

They're being reminded of her, back in Liyue.

"If you ever need an attorney, please contact us. We would love to handle this case and bring this matter to light," they said, but Kunimitsu could tell they were simply saying it to convince themselves that it was her.

He hated it.

Why won't you look at him like that?

"I will, if the matter is necessary," the lady chuckled and shook their hand. Standing up, she bowed once again and led the two out, in the promise of returning in a few days time.

As they returned back on the road, the wanderer couldn't help but stare at his lover, an expression unreadable... And yet so full of grief resting on their features.

Nothing was needed to be said, he thought.

After all, I've had the same expression when I saw what became of them that day.

#☁️ | to a special someone #☁️ | drafted anecdotes #☁️ | astro-attorney bias ; approved by archons

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curewhimsy · 2 years ago

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Margot x Edgeworth fic plans

TW: Murder by poison, Suicidal ideation

Tragedy fic

Takes place in Ace Attorney universe but crosses over OCs and some other fandoms

———

Fandoms-

OCs

Vocaloid

UTAU

Idolmaster

Ace Attorney

Dangan Ronpa

Margot Nocturne (OC) is a quiet, unsuspecting librarian who has always been jealous of local broadway performer Taya Soune (UTAU) for his charisma, success, and musical talent, to the point of spite and resentment. Margot kills Taya with poison in his drink. She pins this crime on Ritsu Namine (UTAU) by making sure Ritsu gave this poisoned beverage to Taya.

Margot feels a lot of sadness and regret after this murder, enough for her tears and shock to look convincing, as if she didn’t do the murder.

Ritsu’s attorney in this case is Teru Tendo. (Idolmaster SideM)

Miles Edgeworth is the prosecutor and is going to try to find Ritsu guilty.

During the window of time where Edgeworth is convinced Margot is innocent, a romance blossoms… a true romance too. Margot is a broken woman who has never had a companion, and the kindness Edgeworth gives her changes her world. But the truth still lurks behind both of them, and it’s ugly and tragic. Margot is a killer. If she were to be brought to justice, she would get the death penalty.

Who is testifying-

Ritsu Namine (UTAU)

Rui Maita (Idolmaster SideM)

Touko and Syo Fukawa (Danganronpa)

Maya Fey (Ace Attorney)

Aoi Asahina (Danganronpa)

Larry Butz (Ace Attorney)

Margot Nocturne (OC) (as an “innocent witness”)

Kaoru Sakuraba (Idolmaster SideM) does the autopsy on Taya’s body. He and Tsubasa Kashiwagi (Idolmaster SideM) are helping Teru with the case. Teru even gets an updated autopsy report that Edgeworth doesn’t have at one point!

It just seems like Edgeworth isn’t doing so well in the trial this time.

The setting is a library that also has karaoke. The concept of the place is “a library where you don’t have to be quiet.” Taya Soune is feeling gloomy that day and decides he wants to sing alone in his own concealed cozy booth. He takes his first sip of a drink that his friend Ritsu Namine served to him moments before, not realizing it will lead to his death.

Ritsu recently got a part time job serving drinks at the karaoke club. Margot works at this place too, as a librarian who organizes and helps people check out books. Margot is good at concealing her sour and vengeful attitude. She has been known to cry and be shy, but nobody suspected she had been wanting to lash out.

It is a relatively quiet day at the karaoke library.

Margot bought a small bottle of poison with her that day. The poison was purchased from the black market, and all evidence of the purchase had been destroyed. Margot was contemplating locking herself in a karaoke booth and ending her life.

Margot then sees Taya Soune come into the building. Margot holds a grudge against Taya because he has a positive attitude, has tons of friends, and is accomplished, everything Margot isn’t.

Ritsu is called up to sing a song, and leaves Taya’s drink on a table unattended. Margot is overtaken by the urge to slip the poison in Taya’s drink and murder him instead.

Nobody is even there to witness Margot slip the poison in the drink.

Ritsu comes back from the karaoke room and serves this drink to Taya.

Minutes after sipping the drink, Taya begins coughing blood, and is too weak to move or call for help. He is bleeding from the inside and dies within a couple of minutes.

Since Margot works at the library, she has controls of the temperature in all the karaoke rooms. She hastily attempts to create an alibi by making Taya’s room cold for three hours, allowing rigor mortis to set in at a later time, making it so the time of his death will be estimated at a later time. She has the room go back to the normal temperature after three hours so nobody suspects the change. She also wore gloves when changing the temperature.

(Margot has read her fair share of mystery novels. But she overlooked that she was still present when Ritsu was pouring the drink, making all her work useless.)

Margot flees the library.

Three people discover Taya’s body five hours later, noticing they can’t find him.

The three who discovered the body were Taya’s best friend Ritsu Namine, Taya’s English and drama teacher Rui Maita, and Maya Fey, who just happened to be there.

Ritsu’s fingerprints are found on the cup with the poison, and evidence points to him being the one giving it to Taya.

Checks on Ritsu’s background are done. They find that he in fact has distant ties to the yakuza.

The autopsy report says Taya died at 3:00 PM, which is after Margot was gone from the library.

Taya actually died at 1:30 PM.

After Margot is gone from the library, she goes to the park and disposes of the poison bottle (crucial evidence) by disguising it as a necklace charm and giving it to a “handsome guy” as a love present. And the handsome guy… just happens to be Miles Edgeworth. Margot doesn’t know that Edgeworth is going to be the prosecutor in the case she caused. Also Edgeworth rejects her advances. But… he accepts the gift! This marks the start of a very complicated relationship.

Edgeworth eventually sees that Margot is broken and one day invites her to his house for tea. He is the type who cannot ignore something abandoned or hopeless.

Phoenix Wright isn’t the attorney here, because he’s in the hospital... (Also the world doesn’t revolve around him!)

Touko Fukawa is a shy romance author and cannot stand subjects about blood and murder. Her headspace alter, Syo, writes murder mystery novels. In fact, she wrote the very novel that inspired Margot to lower the temperature in Taya’s karaoke booth! She knows those tricks. Syo is there for most of the trial as Touko cannot handle it, and gives good leads on who the murderer could be… She absolutely thinks it’s Maya Fey, who was at the karaoke library at the time! And she gives a convincing testimony.

Now everyone is convinced Maya Fey could have done it, so Ritsu is set free and Maya goes to the detention center. Again. But there’s stilll evidence missing…

Despite it being humorous as ever, the testimony that exposes the most truth ends up being… Larry Butz’s?

Eventually when the truth is close to coming out, since Margot didn’t seem to have much of a motive, there is trouble establishing one.

But then Margot cannot stand the pressure and accidentally slips.

She ends up saying, “I understand that the justice system cannot always expose the real truth. But I wanted to die anyway… it’s why I had the poison in the first place.”

Margot’s clumsy statement exposed her as the one who possessed the poison and put it in Taya’s drink.

She breaks down and confesses everything, her motive, and her actions.

Margot is brought to justice in the end, and will get the death penalty. At this point, Edgeworth had grown to trust and love Margot… She changed his life as well. Edgeworth is shocked and saddened so much that he becomes a crying wreck in the courtroom…

Margot is last seen smiling with tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Goodbye, Mr. Edgeworth… Thank you for making my final days worth remembering.”

#My writing #margot nocturne #fic #miles edgeworth #edgeturne

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

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05 | t r o u b l e | greg sanders, csi vegas

Notes:

I meant for this to be more fluffy than intense. That is clearly not what happened, however. True to form, the suspense / ongoing crime Belle witnessed came into play again. There is fluff here though, so hopefully, that’ll make up for it?

I preface with a strong word of caution. I am not a law enforcement professional nor am I a licensed therapist or anything. I’ve never witnessed anything extremely traumatic and everyone’s reaction / way of handling things are worlds apart, so. I’m trying my best. Apologies ahead of time.

If anyone’s interested in what I’m picturing with Vinnie, ( here ) or ( here ) are the best representations.

Warnings:

huge stalker warning, crime mentions (murder), witnessing crime / trauma related to this, use of a mouse as means to convey a threat. The stuff you’d see on the show, basically. I tried to kind of dumb it down and keep it far away from being too graphic because a) I don’t know what I’m doing and b) I don’t want to upset anyone or anything.

If you’re good with watching the actual show, you should be fine. If the above mentioned things bother you, you might want to exercise caution.

Summary:

Belle thought that leaving it behind would make it disappear. But your past always catches up to you and this time, she might just be in over her head. How will it all end?

Pairing:

Sidle!OFC x Greg Sanders

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three pt one - three pt two - four - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq & tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet

FIVE.

The phone ringing had me jumping a little. Nearly throwing it on the ground when I saw that the caller was another unknown number. I only answered because I thought maybe it’d be one of the jobs I put in an application for. As soon as I heard that slow Cajun accent, I knew I was horribly wrong and I felt my blood run cold. I froze in fear.

“I know ya saw me, chere. And I know all about your little boy toy. The cop?”

I couldn’t say anything, no matter how hard I tried. I knew if I kept him talking, maybe tried to record the conversation, I’d have even more proof it was him behind everything, but I wasn’t fast enough.

He gave a disappointed sigh and I could practically feel him giving me a look of disgust through the phone lines.

“Leave me alone.” I managed to get that much out, but my voice was so shaky. It felt like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. My hands were shaking so hard I nearly dropped the phone.

“Oh, I’d like to, chere. But see, there’s a problem with that. You’re fucking mine. And I’m the only one who can get ya outta this mess. Just come home, chere. I promise nothin’s gonna happen to ya little boy toy.”

“I’m not coming back.” my tone was flat. I think I was frozen in fear. I didn’t know how to react. I was exhausted from all the shit he’d put me through so far… And the shit he put me through before that night, because thanks to my therapist, I’ve recently come to the realization that Vinnie was slowly cutting me off from friends and family and I hadn’t even realized it. He’d been so smooth, so calculating in his manipulations that I didn’t realize just how horrible a person he really was. But I saw it now.

He chuckled. That dark and angry sound he used to make whenever one of the guys who frequented the club pissed him off. “Chere, have some sense here. You know what I’m capable of now, darlin. I’d hate to have t’ do it to you… Or someone you care about.”

Before I could say anything, the line went dead. I dropped the phone and tried to take a few deep breaths. How the hell did he keep getting my number every single time I changed it?

Sitting in my sister’s apartment had me filled with tension. I didn’t honestly feel safe anywhere anymore. I hadn’t in a while. I grabbed my jacket and my keys. The gun I’d brought earlier. Something on my windshield caught my eye as I approached my car and I eyed it. Not even sure if I should touch or move it. Not sure I wanted to know what was actually inside the envelope.

After taking a deep breath or two, I reached out and pulled the envelope free. Once I was inside the car with the doors locked and the gun within reach, I tore into the envelope.

A picture fluttered free, settling on the floorboard of my car. When I dumped the contents remaining out onto the passenger seat, I screamed as soon as I saw the dead mouse, jumping back. I wanted to throw up.

Remembering the picture, I bent to pick it up.

And promptly felt all the blood drain from my body when I realized that not only had it been taken inside of my sister’s apartment… It was of me sleeping. There were crudely drawn x’s over my eyes and I felt my stomach churn when I turned it over and caught sight of the familiar scrawl that belonged to my ex.

“Sweet dreams, chere.”

Only this time, him saying it wasn’t a pleasantry. It was a very thinly veiled threat.

← hey, is it okay if I come by the station?

The three dots appeared and then disappeared, only to appear all over again. I worked on calming myself down right as my phone began to ring.

“Is everything okay?” Greg asked almost as soon as I’d picked up the phone.

“ Vinnie called.” I managed to get it out. Greg swore quietly. The music playing in the background disappeared and I heard a door close behind him. “Did he say anything?”

“Just that he’s apparently seen me with you.” I left out the bigger part of the call, what I’d witnessed that night in the alley. Because I wasn’t sure how much of it I was allowed to tell Greg about, given that I’d already told Detective Brass the night Vinnie tried to run me down. He told me that for now, I might want to keep what I knew as quiet as I could.

And I hated having to do it. But I wanted Vinnie to pay for what he’d done that night.

“What else, Belle?” Greg questioned, using that firm tone on me all over again. The one that makes me want to tell him anything and everything he asks for.

I sighed and took a deep breath. “He’s not happy, obviously. He… A few nights ago… I saw someone down by my car.”

“What? Why haven’t you said anything?” Greg asked in a rush.

I bit my lip. Paused to collect my thoughts. “Because at the time, I didn’t think anything of it. Then today, after the call, I came down to get in my car. I just.. I had to get out of there, okay? I can’t take it..” I trailed off, going quiet. Taking a few deep breaths before I went any further. “I feel like I’m being watched constantly.”

“Didn’t you change your phone number? What do you mean you feel like you’re being watched?” he asked.

“I did. And somehow, he got the new one.” I answered, lightly pounding my steering wheel in frustration. Never in my life had I wished for a rewind button more than I’ve been doing since that night in the alley behind the bar.

“I just do...” I continued, pausing. Trying to keep calm, keep from bursting into hysterics because right now, all I wanted to do was cry. I was exhausted and scared and I felt like the only way to get through any of this was to do it by myself. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Sara. ,, Or Greg,” my mind added. I’d rather bear the brunt of whatever was coming because I’d gotten myself into this to begin with.

“Why?” Greg asked. I could hear him pacing. Swearing under his breath. I flinched a little when I heard the noisy clink of metal. “Are you there, Belle?” he asked after a second or two.

“Well, apparently, he’s been inside my sister’s apartment. I found a picture of me sleeping in an envelope on my car just now.” I rubbed my head and leaned it against the wheel. “I’m coming to the station, okay? I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

“Okay. I’ll go let Brass know you’re incoming. You didn’t touch the envelope a lot, right?”

“No more than I had to.” I glanced over, gagging a little at the sight of the dead mouse on my car seat. After I hung up and calmed down a little, I started the car. My cell phone was ringing but I didn’t bother answering it.

I don’t think I could’ve handled hearing Vinnie’s voice again tonight.

XXX

He spotted her making her way into the station and he made his way over. From where Warrick stood, he chuckled to himself, nudged Nick and nodded in their direction. “What do you make of it, Stokes?”

Nick shrugged. “All I know is that the air is so thick between ‘em it’s hell even breathin. You should’ve been there the day she had to come up and get the spare key Sara and Gil gave him a while back. Whew.” he fanned himself, chuckling. “I think Greggo can handle a lot more than we give him credit for though.”

“Me too, man. I gotta get going.” Warrick said his goodbyes, leaving Nick to stand there, sort of just observing the two as he muttered to himself, “Yeah.. Sara definitely called that one.”

Greg could see the mascara dried on her face before he even got to her. He grumbled to himself, shoving clenched fists into the pocket of his baggy jacket as he came to a stop in front of her. “I talked to Brass. He said to come in whenever you’re ready.”

Belle nodded, taking a few shaky breaths. She held out the envelope she’d found under her windshield and warned Greg quietly, “There’s a… He put a dead mouse in there too.” as she grimaced and paled.

Greg’s brow raised and he eyed her. Belle bit her lip and sighed quietly. “I’ll explain it all soon okay? I didn’t want anyone caught up in this to begin with… It’s bad enough I’m caught up in it. I should’ve been smarter. I should’ve known.”

“Belle, you can’t do everything yourself. And this is not your fault okay? None of it.” Greg tried to reassure her, shaking his head as he gazed down at her in concern.

“I know, it’s just…” she trailed off, fighting back more tears before she looked up at him again. “I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, I….” she went quiet on him, taking a few shaky and deep breaths.

Somehow, Greg got the sense that it wasn’t what she wanted to say at all and just the thoughts he’d had and his suspicions about what might have happened to her so far had him clenching his fists and biting down anger all over again. If they caught this asshole, he was definitely going to make sure he was there for it.

When she leaned against him awkwardly, he slipped his arms around her. Standing there still, letting her pull herself together. After a few seconds, he gazed down at her. “Are you okay now?”

“As good as I’m going to get. I’ll… When I’m done talking to Brass, I’ll come down to your lab. I need to tell you everything. If I can, that is.”

Greg nodded and watched her walking away. Swearing to himself as he took the envelope with the picture and dead mouse inside of it down to Mandy in the fingerprints lab.

“What’s this?” Mandy put on her gloves and took the envelope from Greg, turning it over in her hands, a brow raised at the lump in the envelope.

“I need you to run that. If any prints come back from Belle Sidle, it’s because she had to touch it to get it off her windshield earlier.. Tell me if any other prints come up, please?”

Mandy eyed him, a hand on her hip. A hint of a smirk on her face as they locked eyes.

“You look pissed.” she mused almost thoughtfully.

“Obviously.” Greg answered, turning to walk back down the hall and into his own lab. Where he sat waiting, watching the door.

XXX

I stopped in the doorway of Greg’s lab. Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me.

And then I proceeded to pace the floor as he sat there, watching me. Before finally giving up and standing in front of me to stop me. Tilting my chin to make me look at him.

“You weren’t supposed to get involved in this. But apparently now you are.” I took a deep breath before sinking down into the desk chair after Greg guided me over to it. After a few seconds of staring at the rips in my jeans, I finally spoke up again.

I started to tell him everything. From how I met Vinnie in the first place when I was dancing in the club, to the last night before I left New Orleans. What I’d seen to make me leave. And when I finished, I gazed at him, waiting on a reaction.

“He didn’t… Hurt you… Right?” he asked the question and waited on me to answer.

I shook my head. “He has a jealous side, though. I never thought it was that bad...seeing us together when we went out to grab food that day set him off. You have to stay away from me, Greg.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m not going to do.” Greg insisted.

I eyed him, a brow raised. “This isn’t going to end well. I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see that night. They make movies about this every single day of the week, Greg. He can’t have a witness to his crime.”

“Now the dead mouse makes sense.” Greg muttered. I raised a brow and he reached over to his desk, picking up a thick book, holding it out to me. I took it and recognized it immediately.

It was a book that I’d been reading because it was lying around my sister’s place. A history on the mob in Las Vegas. And then I realized that Greg was actually the one who wrote it. Greg shattered the silence when he went on to explain that in the old days, it was a common threat. Something dead on your porch as a little reminder that loose lips sink tight ships.

I listened, nodding. Speaking up to point something out when he’d finished. “For the record, if he’d have laid a hand on me, I would’ve thrown hands. I may not look like much but I can fight my way out of a paper bag. I learned self defense real quick when Sara got into karate and stuff when we were kids.”

He chuckled quietly, smiling a little. “Yeah, she mentioned you broke a guy’s nose once.”

“Mhm. I can stand up for myself. I just got in over my head this time. Or maybe he was just that good at hiding how sick and twisted he really was… Either way, it’s my fault.” I muttered quietly.

“Hey, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Greg repeated himself. I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t. I was the one who got involved with Vinnie. I was the one who ignored my gut when it came to the guy. It definitely felt like everything I was going through at the moment was my fault. I brought it on myself.

I gazed at Greg while he was distracted for a second or two. If things were different.. ,, if I met him instead of Vinnie, if I’d done any number of things differently,” my mind taunted me and I tried to shove it all down because this was not the time or place to even entertain the thoughts.

I couldn’t even go there right now. I wanted to, very much so.. But I couldn’t. Not when simply knowing me puts anyone who does in danger right now. And the last thing I wanted to do was put Greg in danger.

“You can’t stay at Sara and Gil’s anymore.” Greg spoke up.

“Nope. I’m guessing that somehow, Vinnie stole the key. That has to be how he’s getting in. What I’m wondering is how the hell he found me to begin with.. How he keeps getting my number.” I muttered quietly.

“You can stay at my apartment.” Greg offered.

“Greg, no. There are a million good reasons why that’s not a good idea. The first one being that I don’t want to drag anyone in the middle of this.” I argued. I stopped myself short of tacking on that I definitely did not want to drag him into this. Because the implication in that thought was… Too much for me to swallow right now. Especially with all of this going on.

He shook his head. Repeated himself firmly. “You’re staying at my apartment.”

I eyed him. Shaking my head and folding my arms over my chest. “I can get a hotel, Greg. He’s already threatened you okay? Just because he saw you with me.”

“ I’m already involved.” he added in a quieter tone. Holding my gaze steady. “If you get a hotel room, he’ll find you. You’ll be by yourself and in even more danger. That’s not something I’m willing to let happen, okay? You’re staying in my apartment.”

I swallowed hard. There were a million good reasons why saying yes to his offer was not a good idea, and yet, I nodded yes. “ I still think this is a very bad idea. You didn’t even ask to be caught in this bullshit. Vinnie is dangerous. I just wish I’d have known that sooner for myself. Or had the sense to leave the guy alone in the first place...” my voice fell flat and dropped off to a whisper towards the end and I stared down at my hands for a few seconds, trying to get myself pulled together again.

Greg shrugged off the warning. His jaw set firm.

“Brass told me to stick around here until someone gets off.” I muttered quietly. Greg nodded. “I have an hour left in my shift.” he answered, going quiet for a few seconds and then speaking up again. “Everything is going to be okay, Belle.”

And he said it with so much conviction in his tone, with such calm that for a few minutes, I almost dared to hope that might actually be true. Even though deep down, I knew that this could only end badly.

And I found myself beyond worried.

Scared to death. Trying not to show it.

If you’d asked me a few months ago if I thought Vinnie was actually capable of any of this? My answer would’ve been No. I’d been blissfully unaware of the monster beneath the mask. He’d fooled me so well that these days, I alternated between a state of shock, disgust at myself and complete and total fear.

How had I managed to be so blind?

“Belle.” Greg’s voice shattered through my thoughts and I sighed, looking up at him. “Yeah?”

“They’re going to catch him. He’s going to pay for it. And if you’re sitting there worrying about me, don’t. I can handle myself.”

All I could do was nod and take his word for it. It’s not like I had much else to go on at the moment.

I stepped away and took a few deep breaths before making my call to my sister. I couldn’t take any more risks. But I needed to keep her the hell out of this.

The call went to voicemail and I remembered that it was probably just getting late there and that they were probably a sleep by now. So I left a message for her to call me back when she woke up.

“You called Sara, right?” Greg asked from behind me. I nodded, taking a shaky breath or two. “She can’t come back here til he’s caught, Greg. I… My sister is literally all I have left.”

“You know she’s going to.”

“I know and that scares the shit out of me. I just hope they catch Vinnie soon. One way or another.” I answered, pacing his lab. Until he stopped me again, nodding to the chair at his desk. I sank down in it, rubbing my temples.

#greg sanders fanfiction #greg sanders fanfic #greg sanders fic #my writing ; greg sanders #my fics ; greg sanders #my fanfiction ; greg sanders #// not gonna lie.. gets a little dark here.#// not too dark. but a little.#// also... fluff if you squint #// stalker tw #// crimes / attempted murder / witnessing crimes tw

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kdj-225 · 2 years ago

Note

Saw your Tweet and was wondering about JD animal shifter AU with your touch 🥺🙏🏻

[Here you go!! I hope you like it! It's only barely joongdok (their relationship is still developing at this point since it's just the first meeting lol), but I tried😂]

tw for: attempted kidnapping / panic attacks

※DO NOT REPOST / HOST MY WORK ON OTHER APPS OR SITES

Shapeshifting, for all that it’s a cool idea in theory, is not quite as fun when you’re already an animal shifter yourself.

History knows it well. How witches were burned at the stake, how suspected (not even confirmed, at that) werewolves could just as easily be killed with the slightest of hints of attraction to the full moon, how certain animals are just bad, bad luck regardless of how innocent they are.

And because Kim Dokja is the luckiest bastard on earth, of course, he’s a black cat shifter.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

He’s lived as himself for twenty years now. He’s had to live without both parents—his father, murdered; his mother, incarcerated—and he’s lived long enough to prove that cats might actually just have nine lives after all, so he can safely say he’s doing well enough. Though animal shifters aren’t quite as accepted in society yet, there’s at least some kind of progress that they aren’t immediately murdered or thrown into slavery like before.

As if being able to transform into an animal was any reason to be treated inhumanely, when even pure humans themselves could be more monstrous than any shifter.

Anyway.

Animal shifters are, essentially, a little bit more accepted in society now as compared to decades past.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t exceptional circumstances.

Like now—

He can clearly see the wolf-eared child being cornered into an alleyway by a man with a collar in hand. Dokja’s not an idiot, for all that he’s not often caught up on the news; he knows it’s a shock collar just from the small machine attached to the back of the leather.

Shit. This is really not his day. It’s already too dark that causing a scene might be more of a risk than it would have been had it been daytime, where he could just as easily lie and the man would sooner run than be seen in broad daylight.

But it’s a child. A child.

Damn it.

He takes out his phone, dials 112, and doesn’t bother to wait for the beep when he loudly says, “Hello, police? I have a crime to report—”

“Fuck!”

The man swiftly looks toward him. Out of the alleyway and into the light, where his face is likely lit up by the streetlamps.

He thinks he might have to fight, for as much as his limp, noodly arms can bother punching a larger man. His heart is pumping away in his ears and he feels terrified, feels scared out of his wits, but not enough to actually turn tail and leave the child behind.

Then the child kicks the man in the groin just hard enough that he buckles over, kicks him again in the side of the knee until he’s stumbling, before doing a little jump and spin that has her foot tapping at his temple until he’s down onto the ground. It all happens so fast that Dokja can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t even try to do anything to help the little girl until he notices the gleam of sharp metal in the man’s hand.

“That’s—!”

She stomps on the man’s hand to disarm him, ignoring his scream when she picks up the knife.

She’s small. She’s so small, yet when she holds the pocket knife in her hand, she doesn’t shake one bit.

Dokja doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline from being in a dangerous situation.

He doesn’t know why, but his vision blurs.

It was already dark, but it’s getting darker instead of clearer as he struggles to look at the child. Like he’s hypnotized, his gaze zones in on that glint of metal in her hand—the only clear thing in his view until his vision shakes again.

He can’t breathe. His body is starting to feel numb, like he’s losing control of his own limbs, his own breath. He feels cold.

He can’t breathe, but why?

“—ssi?”

What’s wrong with him?

“Ahjussi!”

He stumbles, but doesn’t fall. There’s something smaller than him propping him up, even if he can’t see what it is. All he knows is that it’s soft, like a fluffy pillow, though a little firmer than that.

It’s not enough to distract him from how dizzy he feels. He feels sick. His chest hurts.

Is he dying?

“—ssi, ahjussi—”

He groans, and closes his eyes. He figured he’d die eventually, but he hadn’t thought that death would feel like this. It feels suffocating. Like drowning, even when there’s no water in his mouth, or nose.

Everything hurts.

Why is it so dark? Why can’t he move his body?

He doesn’t know how much time has passed like that when a larger, firmer body holds him up.

“Hey.”

He struggles to open his eyes. There’s a hot hand to his forehead, keeping his head up as he blinks dazedly down at the floor.

His chest still feels tight, but it’s looser than before. He can breathe short, wheezing breaths. When he tries to straighten up and away from the hand on his head, another stronger arm tucks him right back in.

What?

“Huh..?”

“You had a panic attack,” a male voice says. The voice is deep, soothing, just enough that he finds his eyes fluttering shut again. “My sister helped you.”

“Sister..?”

“I’m Yoo Mia, ahjussi.”

A child’s voice this time. He blinks weary eyes open, pulls his head away from the hand on his forehead, and finds himself being faced with the very child he’d been trying to save earlier. Her ears are back to human ears now, and she looks, frankly, very adorable.

She’s a child who didn’t need his rescue attempt in the first place, given how she handled herself just fine.

“Yoo Mia, huh,” he says, smiling a brittle smile. He blinks again when she tries to hand him a bottle of what looks like water. “What?”

“You need to keep hydrated,” she says decisively, frowning as she steps away to walk by his side.

Wait, walking?

“Wha—”

“Don’t struggle, or I’ll carry you over my shoulder.”

He stops in the middle of pushing away from the body that’s holding him up. When he looks up, it’s to the sight of a handsome, frowning profile of a man. “What?”

“Take the bottle and drink.”

This bastard..?

“Drink, ahjussi,” says the child again, before poking the bottle of water right into his chest. “You need it.”

“...thank you.”

She uncaps the bottle for him, before gingerly taking his hand and wrapping his fingers around the body of the bottle. It would be a cute gesture, if he hadn’t just come back from what he felt was a near-death experience.

After taking a short sip of water, he asks, “The man..?”

“From earlier? We took care of him,” Mia says. She sounds a little too chipper for a kid who’d almost been kidnapped. “Right, oppa?”

“Mm.”

Something tells him he shouldn’t ask further on that. Instead, he asks, “And you’re taking me where..?”

“Our place,” Mia answers for him. “Are you a shifter too, ahjussi?”

Her brother seems to be frowning when he says, “Mia.”

“He tried to save me, and he smells like a cat, so I had to ask!”

“Aha,” he laughs. He feels like he’s losing his mind, really. He doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know if he can trust these two, but Mia is just a child. He ends up answering, “Yes. I’m…a cat.” He scrunches his nose a little, and sighs. “You’re both wolves?”

“Yes.” “That’s right!”

“Okay,” he says, closing his eyes again. If her brother minds him leaning further into his weight, he doesn’t show it. “Okay. What are you going to do with me, when we’re at your place?”

“We’ll let you rest, since you must be really tired. Don’t you want to shift, ahjussi? My oppa’s very warm, and cats like warm things, right?”

“Mia…”

“Oppa, it’d be easier on you too, wouldn’t it?”

Dokja laughs.

He laughs, even when nothing is particularly funny. He’s sure he must look insane. Just earlier, he felt like he was dying, and now, he was being taken home by a pair of wolf-shifter siblings.

His laughter dies down into wheezing breaths, and he rests his cheek against the other man’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, blinking slowly as he looks up at his helper’s face. The man’s expression is frozen for some reason, though Dokja can’t be bothered to try and understand why. “What’s your name?”

A beat.

Then,

“...Yoo Joonghyuk.”

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he parrots, blinking dazedly as he looks out at the empty streets. “I’m Kim Dokja. And…I’ll shift. Would you mind if..?”

Joonghyuk takes him away from the streetlamps and down an empty alleyway, seeming to have understood his signal with only the barest of promptings. Yoo Mia is just as observant when she promptly turns around, serving as their watchdog (hah) as he shifts into a cat in the darkness.

Neither of them bat an eye as they pack up the clothes he’d dropped mid-shift into their bag.

“We’ll take care of you, ahjussi,” Mia promises, looking up as he curls into a ball in Joonghyuk’s arms. (For a child, she has admirable self-control; she doesn’t pet him, not even once.) “So, don’t worry and sleep.”

He gives a little meow in response. He thinks if he might hold up for a little more, if he should keep an eye on the road for any landmarks on the way to their place.

That’s what he thinks, but his body decides otherwise.

He dozes off soon enough, lulled into sleep by the rhythmic sound of Joonghyuk’s heartbeat, and the gentle sway of his body as he walks.

(In his slumbering state, he misses the way Joonghyuk’s expression twists with confusion when he starts purring in his arms, and the way that Mia starts giggling away in her amusement at them.)

#joongdok #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #fanfic #my writing #request #kim dokja pov

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marvelcriminalhoe · 3 years ago

Text

Paper Rings

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Drunk Harmony

i.e. Season 9 Episode 7

TW: typical criminal minds case jargon, alcohol consumption, traumatic child birth, talks of past sexual relationships, that’s it

AN: I’m sorry this took awhile to get out. I had a lot of personal things happen last week and then I got in a car accident on Thursday so I've just now got round to finishing this chapter. Hope you enjoy it :))

Word Count: 2,232

Series Masterlist

You sit down on your couch, switching the tv on and scrolling through Netflix, trying to find something to watch. You have a rare night off at home and plan on relaxing with easy tv and some take out food. You settle on the show New Girl, something easy to watch, and start eating your sweet and sour chicken from the china place down the street. You’re half way through the second episode when your phone goes off, Garcia informing you of a new case.

So much for a night off.

You quickly get dressed, throwing on some skinny jeans and an old Beatles shirt. Your red converse match the red cardigan you throw over everything, and you head out.

“Beantown has turned into chokeville.” Garcia pulls up the crime scene photos, “3 victims, all male, wallets stolen.”

“The unsub uses a garrote to strangle his victims. He strikes at night and there have been no witnesses” Hotch informs everyone.

“How much did he get?” Rossi questions, referring to the wallets.

Hotch shakes his head, “Well, it’s odd. Each of the victims, socio-econmically, is lower to middle class. It’s doubtful there would have been much cash, and there have been no charge attempts on any of the credit cards.”

“So the murders might not be about money at all.” Blake supplies. “Taking the wallets could be a forensic countermeasure to delay victim identification.”

Garcia grimaces, “That could be the sitch with the first two victims, but the last one, Scott Delfino, he was on the phone with his roommate when he was attacked, call cut out unexpectedly, repeated callbacks went straight to voicemail.”

“And Delfina’s body was found an hour later. Indications were they’d been blitzed.” Hotch concludes.

You look down at the file, looking over the pictures more closely, “Which speaks to the killer’s prep work but also his desperation. He chose a location to lay in wait but wasn’t capable of adapting to a target on the phone.”

“That could be arrogance getting in the way and making his organization appear mixed.” JJ theorizes. “To me that screams false confidence.”

“Which means that desperation is what’s driving him.” Morgan adds.

Reid hums, “It’s not about the kills, it’s about what the murders represent.”

“He’s mission oriented.” You agree, “He doesn't want to kill them, he does it because he has to.”

“Which suggests the unsub has no personal connection to his victims.” Rossi says.

“Except chocking as a kill method is extremely personal, he feels each victim take their last breath.”

“Except he doesn't use his hands.” You and Hotch say at the same time. You concede to him, letting him finish the thought you both apparently had. You looked down, back to the file, and missed the almost smile on his face as he spoke, “He uses the garrote. If it was a more personal kill, or he knew them before hand, he wouldn't bother with that, he would want to feel them under his hands.”

Hotch dismiss the team after a few more minutes of sharing preliminary profile ideas back and forth, everyone going off to do their pre-jet routine. Part of your’s involves checking the weather to your destination and making sure the bag you brought in will work. You have two go bags, one with your normal, everyday clothes, and another with much warmer, winter clothes, that you keep in your trunk. You learned your lesson during one of the cases you had while under counterterrorism, freezing your butt off in Montana, you definitely won’t be doing that again.

You’re standing next to Morgan in one of the local PD conference rooms, studying the case bored, when Hotch walks in, gathering both of your attentions, “What’d you find out?”

“We just talked to JJ,” You turn towards him, away from the crime scene photos, “Scott Delfino’s roommate said he was a bit of a womanizer but was too good of a guy not to like.”

“We heard something similar from Ryan Maxford’s family.” Morgan informs Hotch, “Stand-up guy, but he was walks broke and asking for money. They would give it to him because despite his flaws, everybody loved him.”

Hotch’s brows furrow down into a frown as he looks back and forth between you and Morgan, “Well, that fits Mike Dunmore, too. He spent a quarter of his income on Marijuana, but he volunteered 5 mornings a week at a soup kitchen.”

“It’s a stretch, but could this be our link? Is the unsub targeting men based on their supposed character flaws?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t like that theory, but you need to discuss the possibility.

“He’d have to have stalked them well in advance.” Hotch argues.

You ponder that thought for a moment, “Why stalk someone you don’t have a personal connection to?”

“Because he’s not targeting a specific person. He’s targeting a specific type.” Hotch states, coming to a conclusion.

Morgan pipes in, nodding along to your boss’s theory, “Men he thinks are too good to be true.”

You look over to your boss, studying him as he looks at the case bored.

Better hope the unsub never meets you.

Okay, that’s enough.

You shake your head, shaking out the inappropriate thought of your much older boss, and get back to work. Because that’s why you're here, for work. Not to make unprofessional comments about your boss.

You, Morgan, and Reid race to the unsubs ex wife’s home, barging through the door to see her in distress, and very much in labor. The unsub picks up a pair of scissors, putting them to her neck.

You, Morgan, and Reid don’t flinch, keeping your guns raised in the air as you walk further into the room. “Put it down.” Morgan demands.

“You can’t be in here.” The unsub states.

“Tanner,” Reid tries to connect with him, “Think about what you’re doing. You don't want to hurt your baby, do you? Not after what happened to Jermey.”

“Go away! Just get out of here!” He yells, as his ex wife screams in pain at the contraction that starts.

“Hannah, how far apart are your contractions?” You talk straight to her.

She grits her teeth, “They’re constant!”

You share a look with Reid, both coming to the same conclusion, “The baby’s coming now.”

“Look man,” Morgan tries to get through to the unsub again, “Your baby is about to be born. Now, we want to help you, but you need to put that weapon down.”

“No! This is my child. I’m not leaving.” He demands.

Reid lowers his gun, bringing out some gloves and putting them on before kneeling in front of Hannah. “Hannah, I need you to breathe deeply.” He commands her. “Hannah I need you to start pushing.”

You watch everything unfold in front of you, never taking your gun off of the unsub. You see Reid look back at you and Morgan, before looking back to Hannah, “Guy’s somethings wrong. The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby’s throat.” “Well, Reid, do something.” Morgan tells him, knowing what he has planned.

“I need something to cut the cord with, quickly!”

The unsub moves from behind Hannah, handing him the scissors, “Use these.”

Morgan immediately goes into action, apprehending the unsub, as you kneel down to help Reid with the birth. “Don’t worry Hannah your baby’s doing fine but you need to keep pushing, okay?”

Blake and JJ come in through the back door, “Medics on the way.” “We can’t risk moving her. We’ll have to deliver the baby here.” Reid informs. The baby is born healthy and happy, giving the team a nice victory to the case.

On the jet ride home, you’re sat across from Reid, playing a game of chess, as the rest of the team is scattered around you both. “Check” Reid states, not for the first time. You move your pawn one space forward, watching as his next move is to take it out. You play your next move, looking up to your messy haired teammate, “Check mate.”

You laugh along with everyone else as he looks down, eyebrows furrowed in an impressive frown that could give your boss a run for his money, “How did you do that?” You just shake your head, leaning back in your seat, pulling out your phone.

Garcia texted you, informing you of the plan that the team was going to go out for drinks when you land and wanted to know if she could catch a ride with you. The both of you had gotten closer since you joined the team, both having a knack for fantasy novels and comic books. Penelope is the easiest person to talk to on the team, and you think she is probably the embodiment of sunshine. You should write a research paper on that.

You write her back, letting her know it’s okay, and decide to get some rest before you land.

Sitting at a table with the rest of the team, you all lift up your drinks, cheering together as your boss makes a toast, “And to Dr.Spencer Reid, Who may be adding M.D. to an already impressive list of credentials.”

“And to Spencer Johnson,” Morgan Adds, “May he prove to be the child prodigy like his namesake.”

“How on Earth did you know what to do?” Blake questions him.

“When JJ was pregnant with Henry, I memorized the delivery manuals just incase she went into labor in the field.” Reid shrugs. You share a look with Penelope, both pouting at the cuteness, both putting a hand to your hearts. When you look back at the rest of the team, you see your boss watching the interaction you just had, making you embarrassed. You think you do a well job at hiding your flustered state, but by the very small smirk you saw flash across his lips, you know he caught it. You put your focus back onto what Reid was saying, trying to shake out the moment.

“This night is not about me, though. To Dave Rossi.” He lifts his glass.

Rossi hums his appreciation, “I still can’t believe you guys did this.”

“We wanted to make sure you had one last proper goodbye.” Garcia nods, agreeing with Reid, adding, “And I may or may not have posted on the Quantico message boards that all drinks are on you tonight.”

You all sip on your drinks, sharing laughs and stories, before the conversation, Thanks to a one Derek Morgan, moves to a more, adult conversation. “I was 16 and definitely knew what I was doing.”

Everyone laughs as you scrunch up your nose at him. Your colleagues having sex is not something you need an image of.

Morgan smirks at you, “Oh, come on now, girl genius. Don’t play coy. How old were you? 16? 17?”

You shake your head, a small laugh falling from your lips, “Derek.” You sigh, “I had just graduated with my Masters from Colombia at 16.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Wait— you’re not still a-“ You interrupt him with a head shake, “Not that that is a bad thing, but no. I’m just saying my high school and college experiences were a lot different then yours.”

Spencer nods, agreeing with you. He also graduated high school at 12 and understands the hardships that, that, can cause when trying to build relationships. Platonically and romantically.

“So when?” JJ asks.

“20.” You tell her, “Right after getting recruited into the FBI.”

Penelope gasps, “Don’t tell me it’s a fellow agent!” She looks around the bar as if she would be able to point the guy out.

“No.” You laugh, “He’s a doctor at the local emergency clinic.”

“Are you still seeing him?” Hotch speaks up, asking. It’s not a weird question. Actually you expected it from someone at the table, but coming from him, it feels loaded, heavy. You shake you head, “No. It ended about a year ago.”

You watch as he nods his head, taking a sip from his whiskey. You want to tear your eyes away from his, but with the alcohol in your system your brain is a little slower when listening to you. Though, your boss doesn't tear his eyes away either. You file that away to analyze when your sober.

“This,” Rossi gestures around, “Has been an excellent goodbye. Thank you.”

“It’s not over yet.” Hotch informs him, gesturing to the stage behind Rossi, “I don’t believe that, uh, any of the members of this team have heard you sing.”

“Next up is David Rossi.” The waitress announces. Making the rest of the team perk up at the prospect of hearing the seasoned team member do karaoke.

Rossi looks over to Hotch, giving him a death glare, “That was intentional.”

Hotch doesn't even blink, just smirking at his friend, “Next up is David Rossi.”

The rest of the team moves closer to the stage, “To all the great memories that have happened within these walls, if you think I’m doing this without backup, you’re nuts.” He gestures to the team to head up, and you have to physically pry Penelope’s hands from your arm in order for her not to drag you up with them. You watch with a wide smile on your face as they drunkenly sing the song, laughing when you see Hotch pull his phone out to record them. He looks over at you, watching him, and sends you a wink, before looking back at them. Giving you another thing to file away for sober you to analyze, while drunk you basks in the harmony surrounding you.

********

taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @ssahotchnerxx @bestillmystuckyheart @eternal-silvertongued-prince @honeyofthegods @pitchblackstars @averyhotchner @hotched @mintphoenix

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #bau reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader series #aaron hotchner x reader story #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst

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blahkugo · 4 years ago

Text

Rouge

Satori Tendō x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: Mafia AU, Dark themes, Blood play (an excessive amount of blood mentions in general), Knife play, Asphyxiation, Angst (?), mentions of death (no main characters), Just two psychopaths going at it tbh.

A/N: I’m so excited to be writing for @the-smut-pile’s newest collab, hosted by @present-mel, @pleasantanathema, and @linestrider. Please make sure to check out the rest of the masterlist here!

Every night, the smell of bleach stings your nostrils and prayers left unsaid weigh heavy on your tongue. ‘It comes with the job,’ they had warned you, had urged a ‘pretty little thing like you,’ not to take a position you couldn’t stomach. You didn't listen, of course.

Because death isn’t a stranger in your life, nor an old acquaintance you catch up with once every few years. It’s a friend that phones daily, a lover you scurry into bed with—the chill down your spine when you walk home alone in eerie silence.

As a doctor you saw it everyday, with every patient that prayed for pity when the pain became all too much. Cries of the sick plagued your every waking moment; who were you to deny them release? Their suffering ended the moment you injected the drugs.

But you’ve never seen death like this before.

“Daydreaming again, angel?” Tendō swipes a disinfectant across the cold metal counter, rubbing until pools of pomegranate red match his long, messy hair. Despite the dreariness of the task, an impish smile remains plastered across his face, the glint in his eyes unscathed by the scene you’d both just witnessed.

“It’s still Doctor to you.” Try as you might, your voice comes out shaky, your heart pounding so hard you’re worried it may actually jump out. That feeling never quite leaves you.

He straightens his gloves and out comes his signature laugh—that high, maniacal, chuckle that stops just short of a song. You’d rip out your car radio if it meant getting rid of it.

“You haven’t been one for a long time.”

The truth makes you shudder, but he’s right, of course. Once your license had been stripped away and you were on the run, your career had officially ended. An ‘Angel of Mercy,’ all the news stations had called you, yapping on for days when you were that week’s most wanted woman.

You don’t have the right to be called a medical professional and yet, you stand your ground. If it means getting him to quit with the dreadful pet name, you’ll say just about anything.

“Your boss calls me Doctor.”

“Because my boss can’t remember your name.” He meets your eyes, lips quirking upward at the little huff that escapes you, your furrowed brows spilling bits of frustration you so desperately attempt to keep bottled. The air hangs heavy with the shrieks of anger you wish you could unleash, all the words you don’t dare say aloud in fear of looking weaker than he already believes you are.

Instead of challenging you further, Tendō simply turns away, chucking the wipes in a bin and humming a tune far too cheery for a man who just ended a life.

When night comes, you dream of the older man who begged to see his children one last time and the laugh that sounds like a song.

—

The next day isn’t any better, because it never is. Ushijima’s moles bring in three more bodies for questioning; bodies, because you’ve been instructed to refer to them as nothing but. And they’re young this time, heavily tattooed kids that can’t be much older than nineteen—children that look so much like the thralls of young men you’ve learned to call friends, you have to avert your eyes when they send panicked glances your way.

You wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons.

“I’ll only ask once,” the gruff, even voice echoes within the small space. “Who’s your supplier?” Your boss is cold and calculated. He never wavers, never says more than he needs to. He’s everything you’d thought the leader of a crime organization would be and more.

Tendō hovers next to him, gnarled fingers twitching eagerly at the knife splayed between them. It’s his weapon of choice, because—as he mentioned your first day on the job—he can ‘take his time with them’.

The captives crack immediately, pleading helplessly for their lives as they vow they know nothing. They probably don’t, appearing to be nothing more than lowly thugs in a long hierarchy of vile men. It doesn’t stop what comes next.

As expected, Ushijima remains silent except for the soft sigh that leaves him. Tendō sighs as well, though it seems more pleased—euphoric, even—than bored. He presses a slender finger into the tip of his knife, watches as a bit of blood runs down his lean arm, paints a strip of his tattoos red, and drips onto the metal table.

“Are they ours now?” Ours. The word brings bile to your throat. Ushijima makes his way to the door, bluntly calling over his shoulder,

“Do what you must.”

You push up your glasses, Tendō grins, and the screaming begins.

—

Blood-stained lab coats are a staple of your wardrobe. No matter how hard you scrub, fingers raw and aching, the faded pinks never seem to give. You quit months ago, resorted to throwing the worst ones away instead of putting yourself through that hell.

This coat’s going straight to the bin.

Through every horrid interrogation, you’ve forced yourself to watch. You’ve never looked away, never dared allow him to smell the fear off of you. You hand him the tools, write the information on the clipboard, assist with cleanup and disposal, and answer any questions he may have—like the good little medical doctor turned mafia member you should be.

And Tendō smiles the whole way through. Even as dagger meets flesh, as pained cries shatter your eardrums, as your vision is clouded with red, red, red—Tendō smiles, humming a tune that you hear long into the next evening.

But today, when the third young man had looked you dead in the eyes and sobbed, begging you to tell his mother he loves her, you couldn’t help yourself.

Of course, the towering redhead didn’t fail to detect the misstep.

“Bad day?” He questions innocently, resting his elbows on the now spotless titanium table. His muscles ripple as he leans, boasting the thousands of dollars worth of art across his arms. It bothers you that you notice it, even more that he probably catches you gawking. He sees everything, after all. Everything but the blood still splattered across his body.

“Won’t be the last, for us at least.” Brows raise, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. If at all possible, the wicked grin on his face widens.

“You’re exactly right.” And like clockwork, he laughs. Your hands grow cold, ice corroding your veins. He swipes his tongue over his lip, leaving a slick shine on his lips. When he rises and steps toward you, you stand your ground, though you so desperately long to run. “Why so serious?”

“They didn’t know anything,” you mumble under your breath, “and you tortured them anyways.” In all your months of working with him, this is the first you’ve complained—and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

Tendō moves even closer, as though entertained by your tiny outburst. Perhaps he’s been waiting for this moment, for you to finally break your silence. When he speaks, his tone is gentler than usual, but still holds every hint of mockery and nonchalance the bastard is known for,

“It’s our job, angel face.” Another step, another tiny breath you’re holding in, worried that the slightest of sighs might shatter your perfected image of faux indifference. He tilts his head to the side, peering down at you, like you’re- a child.

And the glass breaks.

“Enough.” You splay your hands in front of you, halting him in his tracks, just as he invades your space. “Enough of the patronizing looks, and the humming, and the stupid pet name that you know bothers me!” An accusatory finger is jabbed into his chest. “Don’t you feel guilt? Fear? Empathy? You murder people.”

Your chest burns, heaving with rage. Tendō’s half-smile still sits on his face, words of ridicule ready to roll off his tongue any second. But when you look into his eyes, there seems to be something more—an emotion you can’t quite place. Anger? Understanding?

His next sentence is whispered with such sobriety, you’re unsure who it is you’re speaking to anymore,

“People like us don’t deserve those feelings.”

“There is no us!” The claim may come out crazy, hysterical even— a woman covered in warm blood shrieking within a cold, sterile room. For once, you don’t care. “I’m not like you.”

Those words may be what set him off, hand wrapping around your chin and tilting it up so that you’re unable to look away. Fingers that incite panic and enact violence, fingers you’ve feared since your first day here, clutching you ever-so casually. “Exactly. You’re not like me.”

He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal, gripping harder at your face. “I’ve made my peace with who I am, but you,” his breath fans your cheeks, “you only pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Then, Tendō’s kissing you. And to your utter surprise, you’re kissing him back. Heat rises within you, the hairs at your neck curling as your lips meet with a ferocity. His palms graze your lab coat—no doubt staining his skin with the blood it’s drenched in—before he’s peeling it off.

When you tug at his messy locks, the butcher smiles and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. He pulls you closer, hurriedly stripping you of your remaining clothing, until you’re left in just your panties. Hands roam at your supple skin, kneading at your hips, meshing into you wherever he can. All the while, your lips do the same, bleeding into each other until you’re unsure of where you start and he ends.

“No.” The command is stern, perhaps the most you’ve ever been with him. His eyes narrow in disappointment, limbs rapidly untangling from your body. You shove him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the table, nudge him again so that he falls against it, and grab a clean scalpel off the side counter. “No, we do deserve to feel those things.” His grin returns in full force—and he laughs.

This time, you don’t hate it.

“Deep down,” he grunts as you hitch a leg over his thighs and climb onto him, “you know that I’m right.” The scalpel’s pointed tip grazes his black tee, cutting through the material meticulously. You run a palm up his broad chest before pressing a finger to his mouth, smearing nearly dried blood across his jaw in the process.

“You talk too much,” the hushed murmur tumbling from your lips doesn’t sound like you, is foreign and twisted, and too much like him to bode well for either of you. The muscles in his thighs tense beneath you, his hard chest rumbling in a silent glee.

Your fingers brush against his cheekbones and you gasp, losing all perception of who you are. It’s absurd, but the individual you knew before, the persona you so adamantly believed you could uphold, crumbles with a single, soft touch of his skin.

And it’s unfair, really, that someone so beautiful—covered in art, blessed with hair the color of sweet wine and a laugh that sounds like music—could be so utterly fucked up.

When you nick his cheek, observing the drip of blood that trickles down, you wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons. And when you lick at it, preening at the groan that leaves him, you wonder if you’re just as fucked up as he is.

All at once, you’re flipped beneath him, back crashing against the cool metal table. He climbs down and drags his pants off, yanks you towards him with one pull of your thighs, and presses against your core. A shiver runs down your spine at the heat, crazes you for something you didn’t think you needed.

“By the way,” Tendō speaks through kisses and nips at your neck, “you are just as fucked up.” Though you hadn’t realized you’d said that aloud, you’re unable to retaliate, only wrap your legs around his middle and moan at a particularly harsh bite. He soothes every spot of broken skin with his tongue, drifting downwards until his lips meet your cotton panties. “How cute.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting thi– Ah,” your complaint is cut short when he moves them to the side and licks a long stripe up your slit. And he doesn’t stop, lapping and sucking at your soaked cunt, holding you down with one lean arm when you writhe in response to the pressure. “God, fuck.”

“Satori, but I’ll take God too,” he smirks against your mound. It’s then that he inserts a lithe finger, then two, stretching you out until you’re tugging at his long locks, goosebumps raised as the warmth of his mouth intertwines with the cold beneath your back.

You’re panting, unconcerned with time or it’s passing, only his fingers, his tongue circling your puffy bud, and your steady ascension to the edge. Just as your legs tense, breath caught mid-mewl of his name, he stops. You lean up on your elbows, rut against him, searching for more—friction, movement, anything—but he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck- why?” Your cry is loud, whiny even, but you don’t particularly care when euphoria’s been ripped away from you so suddenly.

“Tell me I’m right,” he teases, eyes peering straight through yours. You whine again, a mix between a pained groan and ‘are you fucking serious?’ before he flicks at your bud once more. “Say it.”

And you do. Because, as strongly as you've denied it, you’re every bit as perverse as he is, every bit as infatuated by the idea of power, of playing God—of holding a life between your fingertips and choosing death.

The second the words are out of your mouth, he thrusts deep into you. Your fingers scramble for purchase, nails dragging against the table, then his back, as skin slaps against skin.

There’s nothing gentle about Satori, all lean, hard muscle and jagged edges, but the pain is just as blissful as the pleasure. His fingertips rub at your clit, other hand moving to wrap around your throat and squeeze tightly.

“Satori, I- I need more,” you choke out, lightheaded. And he complies, shifting you to your side and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Your cries melt into his, sweat soaking your skin, your hair, the table, as he pounds into you over and over again.

“That’s it baby– fuck, let go for me.” He presses the long-forgotten scalpel against your throat—and your vision goes white. Electricity sparks through your spine, your tongue lolls out, and you swear you feel tears run down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop, working you through the orgasm as your legs bind his waist. A few more thrusts and he’s following you, holding your hips against him so tightly, he’ll probably leave deep purple bruises.

He finally stills, chest falling against yours and heaving, allowing you both to catch your breath. Flashing a set of pearly canines, his wild grin and the glint in his eyes reappear. For the first time since you’ve known him, Tendō is completely silent.

And then he laughs, lawless and untamed, the howl of a hyena that sounds like a song—and you laugh too.

#tendou satori #tendou x reader #satori tendou x reader #haikyuu smut #satori tendo x reader #hq!!#tw blood #tw knife play #tw death #tw dark themes #tw dark content #tw asphyxiation #tw blood play

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