#police/coroner AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qpidkitea · 1 year ago

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TRANQUILITY

FARLEIGH START X FEM! READER

PRÉCIS: AU where Oliver is caught before he fully takes over Saltburn, Felix is still dead, and obviously Farleigh is completely torn and in need of comfort at the loss of his best friend and cousin, takes place after the curtain scene

WARNING: Angsty, cursing, mentions of death, cheek kisses, descriptions of a dead body, so much crying, comfort.

Nothing could've prepared you for today. Nothing could've prepared you for the horrified scream of Elspeth that's still ringing in your ears after the finding of Felix's dead body. His face was blue and swollen, a white, foamy, dried substance cascading down his cheek. His wings from his costume were bent and dirtied as he lay face down on the floor. The police discovered Oliver and his schemes almost immediately. They found the discarded powdered poison laying just a few yards away from the crime scene in the maze. His fingerprints were all over it.

Lunch was unbearable. After watching Oliver being pulled away from the mansion in handcuffs, everyone, especially Farleigh, was excused, his previous claims of drug use dismissed. Silent tears streamed down almost everyone's faces. Venetia almost looked dead. She was surely high on some type of pills, her mascara horribly smudged on her pale face. You wanted to help her, but you feared that if you touched her, she would crumble under your touch completely. Farleigh was shaking horribly, trembling with the effort of trying to keep his breakdown at bay, but tears still found their way down his face.

You sat silently beside Farleigh, holding and squeezing his hand underneath the table, staring down at the soon-to-be cold Shepards Pie on the table in front of you. Elspeth clears her throat, and you look up. She smiles at you, lifting her wineglass and taking an almost dangerous gulp of wine. She sets down the glass, the sound of it being painfully loud because of the quietness of the entire place, the only other sounds being small sniffles, and the sound of Jame's fork and knife cutting into his meal.

"Y/N darling?" Elspeth's voice startles you, sucking you out of the silence of your own head.

"Yes?" You didn't know what she could've possibly asked you at the moment. Your thoughts bounced off the walls of your head, wondering if she would ask you anything about Oliver. Maybe a question about if you noticed any of this behavior at school, or while he lived here..

"Did you enjoy the party?" Farleigh chuckles slightly, squeezing your hand impossibly tight. He shook his head in utter disbelief at her question.

Before you could answer, Duncan enters the room quietly, leaning down next to Sir James, who looks completely unfazed but yet mortified. Duncan then whispers in James' ear, something about closing the curtains in case the coroner passes the window of the room that you all sat in.

"Yes. Thank you. Close them."

Duncan closes the curtains smoothly, the room becoming an almost evil looking red as they close. There was one area left of the room that still shun with the beautiful light of the morning, and you can't help but think how the day would be perfect for laying in the tall grass fields underneath the warm sun, ignoring the cold breeze that would pass you. Duncan takes a few steps to close the last curtain, only to struggle horribly. Something must've been caught. His efforts became more aggressive, especially after noticing the coroner walking closer to the window. Sir James became more aggravated at each tug of the curtain.

"Duncan, just get them closed, for Christ's sake!" Sir James yells and angrily lets his fists slam against the table, and it makes everyone in the room jump.

"Yes, I am trying, sir. I can’t-" Duncan gives the curtain a final yank, and the room is plunged into the same red darkness. As if on cue, the sound of the gurney that held Felix's body rolled on the gravel, complete with the ambulance doors shutting harshly. That seemed to be Farleigh's final straw. He stands up abruptly, still holding your hand, which yanks your arm, forcing you to stand up with him. As Farleigh walks away, you walk with him quietly, ignoring the protested yells of Sir James. He walks quickly, still shaking, with tears flowing down his face.

Even though Farleigh was walking incredibly fast, it seems the walk was longer than usual, his long legs working overtime as he walks the enormous expanse of the mansion.

"Farleigh... slow down please'm gonna fall-" You were tripping on your own two feet, whisking down hallways and turning the curves of the wall way too fast to even register you were turning them.

"Shut up"

You weren't trying to submit to him, nor show your weakness, but you knew he was frustrated, so you shut your mouth. Farleigh loved the feeling of control, especially after feeling like he had none recently. As you reach Farleigh's room, you immediately noticed the white powder spread across in a thin line across the brown wooden desk in his room. You take your hand away from his, pushing the door closed gently. As the door closes behind you, Farleigh breaks down, not even making it to his bed before his knees give out. Sobbing quietly with his back turned and his arm and head resting on the edge of the messy, unmade bed, his body jumping with every try to catch his breath.

You walk quickly to him, crouching down next to him, not worried about your skirt riding up, not around him. Rubbing your hand up and down his back, you gave him a minute to let it all out, to let all the tears out that couldn't be let out in the somewhat hostile situation of lunch.

"Farleigh..." Before you knew it, five minutes passed, and it seemed as if Farleigh's cries weren't faltering, still crying and sniffing at the intensity that he was when he started.

"Farleigh, darling please, breathe for me." He breathe's in wildly, his breath was so shaky, you thought that if he tried to breathe in properly, his lungs would explode. He finally lifts his head up, his face extremely red from crying and the lack of a proper breath. You cup his wet face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs across his cheeks, drying them as you do.

Instead of words, you do. You breathe in deeply, and Farleigh mocks you shakily, but he still does. You hold your breath for a minute before exhaling. With each inhale you take, he mirrors your breath again, and again, and again, until he returns to normal breathing.

You pull the wreck of a boy into a tight hug. He doesn't hug you back, but you don't mind. Pulling back, you kiss his cheeks and then his forehead, which seems to calm him down all together. A hiccup is heard coming from him and you can't help but giggle. The poor boy cried too hard to the point of hiccups.

"Thank you" Farleigh looks into your eyes as he says this, words sounding strange from the swelling of his sinuses and vocal cords. He looks down at his lap, sighing harshly before leaning his head against his bed, feeling his neck dampen from his own tears that stained the sheets.

"Here, let me get you a cold cloth." You stand up, traveling down the hall to the cold bathroom. It was a chilly day at Saltburn. You open the small closet next to the door, opening it to reveal a stack of purple, white, and beige washcloths. You grab a purple one and walk to the sink. As you turn on the sink, you run your fingers underneath the cold water, your fingers going numb as the water turns colder. You place the rag under the running water, letting it completely soak, the color of the cloth becoming a deep purple.

You turn off the water and squeeze the rag of the remaining water, unfolding it and letting it swing in the air, letting the chilly air make the rag colder. As you walk back down the hall, you were happy to hear silence. Happy to hear that Farleigh hadn't cried again. You walk into the doorway and see Farleigh still where you left him, with his head leaning back on the bed. You sit down next to him on your knees. The hardwood floors hurt, but it was all worth it for your sweet boy.

Placing a cool wet rag on his hot face felt like heaven for Farleigh. He sighed deeply as you pressed the rag to his face. You couldn't see his face, but you could tell he was smiling. His face cooled down quickly, and he soon exhaled harshly because of restricted air flow coming through his covered face. He was okay. And you were glad he was okay.

"What the fuck would I do without you?" His words come out muffled, nasally, and strained, but you still heard him. You pull the rag off his face and gently kiss his cheek for the third time.

"Probably suffer"

#farleigh start #saltburn #archie madekwe #farleigh start x reader #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #felix catton #oliver quick #farleigh start x fem reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh imagine #saltburn imagine #farleigh x reader

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mingkismain · 1 month ago

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Detective Kim - hongjoong x reader

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an; finally got inspo to write again!

hongjoong x fem!reader

genre; smut, pwp

word count; 4,091

warnings/tags; pwp, piv, unprotected sex (as i always say don't do that), sort of meandom!hongjoong (SORT OF), non-idol!au, little bit of choking, quite literally one (1) ass slap, lil bit of degradation, pet names (babe, baby), creampie, overstimulation, if i missed anything lmk <3

MDNI - smut under cut

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it wasn’t unusual for you to have to bring in a body during night shift, but a double homicide was definitely a little weird.

You’d been working for the county coroner for about three years now, and in that time you had only had one other double homicide, and that one was on your very first night shift.

You could’ve sworn this one only came in because your coworker made the mistake of wishing you a slow shift, ultimately cursing you to a nightmarish shift. While it wasn’t as bad as you thought, the scene where the bodies were found was about 30 minutes from your office, which meant this trip would take at least an hour, which meant you lost at least an hour of possible sleep.

Great.

“I’ll make sure to wish him a slow shift next time he’s on nights,” you grumbled to yourself as you loaded up the coroner van. As soon as you were done checking the stretchers and making sure you had enough gloves and body bags (plus your camera), you pulled out of the garage and made your way to the scene.

When you arrived, local and state police were already there waiting for you, Detective Kim walking up to your van to greet you.

“Ah, so good to see you!, sorry it’s under these circumstances, but always a pleasure to see you,” Detective Kim stuck his hand out for you to shake.

You smiled, “hi Hongjoong, yes sorry I have to see you here too, we always seem to meet at the worst times!” You tried to keep the mood as light as you could, as the unknown of the scene inside was starting to make you nervous. “What do we have here?” You hopped out of the van, grabbing your camera and some gloves, walking with Hongjoong to the front door of the scene. It appeared to have happened inside a townhouse.

He kept up with you, pausing so you could capture your photos as you two walked, “so apparently there was a 911 call made by a neighbor, they had heard a lot of banging coming from this unit and it was originally a noise complaint. While the person was on the phone with dispatch, they said they heard gunshots. We’re still figuring out the details, but we needed you to come in and do your work before we started ours.” Once you two had made your way to the first line of crime scene tape, you were met with a policeman holding a sheet of paper.

“Before you two go in, sign this please.” He held the clipboard out in front of you, it had the scene log on it. “Make sure we know who is coming in and out of here. We don’t know what happened yet, but better safe than sorry.” You and Hongjoong nodded and each signed your names and what departments you two worked for. You then snapped a shot of the scene log for your own evidence folder.

You continued to talk to Hongjoong as you made your way through the front door, snapping more photos as you moved inside, “so they heard gunshots, anything else? And where are the bodies?” You moved to the living room, finding bloody footprints, snapping a photo with your scale and being careful to not step on them.

“The local police are still gathering their witness statements, so I really don’t know what else they heard. But I think it was a couple, a male and a female. I think the man was dealing with some shady people, then his girl got caught up in it. Oh, and the bodies are upstairs. Whenever you’re done down here we can go up to the bedroom.” He trailed behind you, watching as you photographed from the living room to the kitchen, eventually going to the stairs.

Once you made your way to the stairs, you started to notice bullet holes and marks in the walls leading up to the hallway. You grabbed some photos of those as you continued up the stairs, “Joong, which bedroom are they in?”

His ears perked up at the little nickname, people rarely used it on him but whenever you said it, he would feel his face flush. He cleared his throat, “go up the hallway, second door on your left. I’ll be right behind you.” You nodded and continued up as you photographed the hallway upstairs, finding even more bullet holes and a couple of shell casings. As you entered the bedroom, you saw the two bodies, the woman was in bed, the man was face down on the floor.

Hongjoong stood behind you, “Jesus.”

You turned around, brows furrowed, “have you not been up here yet??”

“No, I seriously was waiting for you! I didn’t want you yelling at me if I touched anything! I remember how you were on that suicide scene not too long ago!”

You huffed, “well thank you for not touching anything, but are the weapons secured? Do we even know if this guy had a gun? Has anyone done ANYTHING prior to my arrival???”

He stifled a laugh, “yes, the cops secured the scene for you, they have the gun in an evidence bag downstairs, but we can give you a description and everything when we’re heading down again. And don’t worry, we took our own photos before we moved the gun.”

“Thank you, remind me when we go down please.” You began to move into the room, being mindful of where your feet were placed.

The room wasn’t a bloodbath, but it certainly wasn’t spotless. You started with the man, as he was closer to the door. He was lying face down, feet closer to the door. It looked as if he had been running. You took photos of him as is before getting up close. Once you finished with overall shots, you put your gloves on and began to move the body, turning him over so you could get a clear shot of his face. It looked as if he had been shot in the back of the head, with the exit wound dead center of his forehead. You opened his eyes to check for other injuries, and to document in your photos. As you moved him so he was now on his back, you found more wounds scattered throughout his torso.

“Oh my god, Doc is gonna have a field day with this guy,” you snapped photos of every single bullet wound. Some had exit wounds, but a few did not, which meant your coroner was going to have to search for the bullets during the autopsy.

Once you were done with the man, you moved to the woman in the bed. She seemed to have a less painful demise, as she only had two bullet wounds. One straight to the heart, and one slightly to the left of the kill shot.

As you continued to move the body so you could clearly assess her, Hongjoong stood by the door, “what’s it looking like?”

You stood at the foot of the bed, taking more pictures of the woman, “looks like he was the one in the altercation. I think she may have woken up, but whoever was chasing this guy must’ve gotten her pretty quickly. She only has two wounds, and I think he’s got at least a dozen holes in him.” You turned around to face him, “can you come back downstairs with me? I need to get my body bags and stretcher out of the van.” He nodded and followed you down. You handed him the two bags you brought and went around the back to grab your stretcher. Since there was only one and both the decedents were relatively small in weight, you could fit both of them on the one stretcher and call it a day.

Before you went back inside, you found some of the local cops. “Listen, I need some big strong men to help me with these people in this house. How many of you want to have the honor of helping lil’ ol’ me?” You batted your lashes at the cops.

Don’t ask what sexism can’t do for you, but what it CAN help you with. You damn well were not about to haul two bodies down some stairs on your own.

Hearing that you needed strong men made them start puffing their chests, one out of the group piped up, “sure doll, me and Chris here can give you a hand. Do you have extra gloves?” He grabbed his buddy by the vest, volunteering him to help with the dead.

You put on a big fake smile, “of course I do! Here, take these and let’s go!”

They followed you into the house, Hongjoong behind them with the body bags still. He had watched you with the cops and may have started ruminating on it. He was a strong guy, right? He alone could’ve helped you with the bodies? What the fuck?

Pushing those thoughts to the side, he stood in the doorway again, watching you and the cops handle the bodies into their bags. Once everyone was zipped in, you and one cop handled a body down the stairs, while Hongjoong and the other cop carried the other bag behind you two. Once they were loaded onto the stretcher, you got them into the van, closing the door behind you. Before you got on your way, you gave the cops your work email so they could send you photos of the gun from earlier.

You thanked the cops and sent them on their way, Hongjoong hung out by your van for a second, “I’ll meet you back at your office.”

“What? Why?”

He huffed, “because you aren’t going to be able to move two bodies on your own that’s why!”

“They’re both pretty light Joong, it's fine, really. You probably have other cases sitting on your desk—”

He sighed your name out, “seriously, quit it, I’m not changing my mind. Plus, I really don’t wanna go back to the office yet. I’ll meet you at YOUR office in a bit. Drive safe.”

“You too.” You spoke as he walked off, you hopped back into your van, plugging your directions in.

While on your drive you contemplated why Hongjoong’s mood had shifted towards the end of the scene. Sure you had only known him for two years, but that felt like enough time together to know that tonight was a little strange.

“Maybe he’s dealing with shit outside of work,” You thought out loud. Maybe the bodies in the back would perk up with some advice.

Unfortunately, neither the dead nor the living had anything insightful to say as you pulled back into your office garage, Hongjoong already in a parking spot out front. Once he saw you parking, he made his way to the garage door. He barely said a word as you got the stretcher out of the back.

“Where do you want it?”

Your eyebrows raised, “huh?? Oh, the bodies. Um, put them over there for now, I have to get their weights, but I need to put them on separate tables for that.” You shook your head. The fuck? He knew what he was doing phrasing it like that.

He literally does NOT, you just haven’t been laid in ages. Wake up.

While you busied yourself with the toe tags, Hongjoong made his way over to you, leaning in to see what you were writing down. He was so close you could smell the cologne on him, it’s amazing that after a scene as gross as that one and now being in the morgue with more dead bodies mere feet away, he still smelled so delicious. It took a lot of willpower for your hand to steady as you finished with the last tag, turning around and nearly bumping into him with how in your space he had gotten.

“Sorry hon, was just curious. I don’t get to see this side of the investigation too much,” he moved out of your way so you could go place the toe tags with their respective bodies.

Was it a full moon tonight? Why am I sweating when this morgue is literally 50ºF. I hate it here.

As you finished with the toe tags, you moved to grab the storage trays out of the freezer for the bodies. You figured you could weigh one of them on the stretcher and the other on the tray, then move them both to trays for storage until autopsy. You motioned for Hongjoong, “Joong, come give me a hand please?”

This time there was no hiding the flush to his face as he walked towards you; though he could blame it on how cold this damn place was. Regardless, he made his way over, helping you weigh the bodies. Once all that was done, you rolled them into storage, shutting the door and double checking that it was locked. You sighed as you headed back to the van to collect your camera so you could upload your photos and hopefully sleep the rest of your shift.

Unfortunately (or maybe not?) Hongjoong followed you to your desk inside.

“I thought you were just going to help with the bodies?” You unloaded your camera bag as he rolled up an office chair next to yours.

He took off his coat, putting it on the back of his chair, “yeah, but now I want to see your pictures. Crime scene rarely shares with the detectives. I don’t know why, but they’re so weird. It’s like a little cult over there, they never wanna give us anything even though it’s usually OUR cases they’re helping with.”

You let out a small sigh, “alright, fine. You can look at mine, but I’m kicking you out after that. You’re cutting into my sleeping time.”

He laughed, “listen, I’m cutting into my OWN sleep time, but I get lonely at the office, it’s different from here.”

You focused on your screen, beginning to label all your photos in numerical order. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in, looking as you labeled, “oh wow you’re great at this. It’s just different. Here you’re on your own sort of, it’s only you on night shift, not a lot of overhead really, it’s comfier. At my office it has the same vibes as a fraternity house sometimes. There’s more than one person each shift, and everyone is fighting for the same promotion most times, so you really don’t know who you can trust. It sucks most days, but I love the actual work I do.”

You blushed at his quick compliment about your photos, the day you can take a compliment normally is the day your praise kink dies. Regardless, you continue to listen to him vent about his office as you catalog your work. By the time he was done ranting, you had finished with your photos, Hongjoong leaning over your shoulder the entire time you were working, eventually moving so close to your screen that your heads were lined up next to each other. But you blamed the closeness on him manually zooming in instead of waiting for you to do it on the computer. Now that you were done with labeling, you could spend more time looking at the pictures with him. He never moved his head, if anything he got even closer to you, putting the hand that was originally resting on the back of your chair, now resting on your shoulders. He stood out of his chair in favor of practically leaning over you.

You tried to crack a joke, “Joong, I think you need glasses, you’re so close you’re going to fall into my screen,” you let out a nervous laugh as you both turned your heads to each other. The eye contact you were now holding made your body temperature skyrocket.

He continued to hold eye contact, breaking for a second to look at your lips, “Sorry doll, I didn’t want to bother you too much and ask you to zoom in on every single picture.”

You thought about how he said doll, then it hit you, “is that what this attitude change was caused by?? Because I asked some stupid local cops to help me move BODIES? You cannot be serious right now Hongjoong.” You were still technically under him in your desk chair, yelling up into his face. He gave it right back to you, one hand moving to your upper thigh, giving it a squeeze, “yeah that’s what this was about! Why were you flirting with the cops? You didn’t need to do that and you know I would’ve been able to help you with the bodies myself!”

The hand on your thigh did little to distract you, “oh my god you and your fragile ego! We would’ve dropped the fucking bodies had it just been us two! Don’t read into it too much! The flirting meant jack shit!”

He sighed heavily, the hand on the back of your chair moving to your chin, pulling you in for a rough kiss. Pulling away, he said, “it didn’t feel like jack shit to me, do you do that on all your scenes?” He lifted you out of your chair, dropping you onto your desk, going back in for a heavier kiss. “Whore yourself around so the men can do the heavy lifting? I wonder what else you offer so they can do your dirty work,” He pulled you into him by your waist, a hand snaking up to the back of your head, pulling your hair so you would look at him. You bit back a moan, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of knowing how hot you were getting.

He gave your hair another tug, “answer me pretty girl. Do you act like that at all your scenes or just when you know I’ll be around?”

You tried to even out your heavy breathing, looking into his eyes, “I do it on most scenes, regardless of if you’re there or not. It’s not my fault you can’t handle it.” His grip in your hair loosened, you thought this would be the end of it.

Clearly you were wrong.

He tilted his head and smirked at you, pulling you off of the desk in favor of bending you over it.

Thank god this office didn’t have any fucking cameras.

You braced yourself with your arms but not for long, you heard movement behind your back before your arms were taken out from under you. Hongjoong had taken his belt and secured your arms behind you with it. He then moved to unfasten your pants, dropping them along with his. He bent over you so he could whisper in your ear as his hand snaked down to play with your already throbbing clit over your panties.

“We’ll see who can handle what. I don’t think those other cops ever get to see you like this.” You turned your head away from him, trying to hide the fact that he was making you feel fucking amazing, but he was having none of that. Instead of going for your hair again, he brought the hand that wasn’t on your clit to your neck, grabbing you tightly, making you arch off the desk. As he brought you up to him, a moan escaped you and it immediately drove Hongjoong up a fucking wall.

“Aw see baby, you can’t hide from me, I know what you like. It’s too easy,” he emphasized ‘easy’ with a stronger hold on your neck, making your vision fuzzy for only a moment before fully dropping his hand in favor of going to rip your underwear off. He brought you back down to the desk with a huff, getting rid of his underwear in the process.

He took his cock out and began to line himself up with your entrance, you only wish you could’ve seen his face when he finally slid into you, but you were too busy squeezing your eyes shut. You could hear him let out a shaky moan, “jesus fuck you feel so good, it’s a wonder we didn’t do this sooner,” you gasped as he bottomed out inside of you, even though you didn’t get a chance to see his cock, he felt heavy inside of you, thick and long, practically touching your cervix.

Once Hongjoong felt you were adjusted to him he began to pound into you, moving you up and down the desk. He held onto your still secured arms for leverage, grunting into your ear as he did so.

Leaning down to bite your ear, he growled at you, “say it.”

In your nearly fucked out state, you had no idea what he was talking about. “What?” You managed to get out through several moans.

He repeated himself, bringing a hand to slap your ass as he did, “say it. Tell me you’re a whore. My whore.”

At the mention of him calling you his whore you swore you could’ve flooded the office, you felt yourself tighten around him as he said it. Earning another, rather loud, moan out of him.

Through broken whimpers and moans, you managed to say it, “yes, fuck yes! I’m yours Hongjoong,” you let out another particularly loud moan, practically drooling onto your desk, “your dumb whore.” You were pretty sure you came as you said that, body feeling a little more weak and a lot more sensitive, but he continued to fuck you through it, bringing you to that sweet spot of overstimulation.

Hongjoong must’ve felt it too, he leaned down to leave a kiss on your shoulder, “aw what’s the matter baby? Haven’t been touched in so long it only takes a couple hits to get you there? Don’t worry, I’m close too.”

He in fact was not close.

He continued to pound into you, switching up from fast and hard to slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, it was torturous at this point. He was driving you crazy, you felt like you were close again, he made it even worse by bringing his hand back down to your clit to rub it again, harder and faster than before, making your legs shake so badly. You were beginning to get so overwhelmed by all the pleasure, you could feel tears running down your face, landing on your desk. You were sure you were going to pass out if he didn’t cum soon, the pleasure beginning to make you feel lightheaded.

You could hear Hongjoong’s groans and moans getting louder behind you. He reached down to undo the belt from your hands, freeing you to brace yourself on your desk again. You pushed yourself up, arching your back and making him fuck you from a slightly new angle, sending you both right to the edge.

He bit your shoulder and moaned loudly, “baby, babe I’m close, so close, where do you want it?”

You shivered at his words, reaching back to grab his hair, “inside—haah—fuck inside please!”

He moaned and cursed your name, “fuck, fuck! coming, oh my god i’m gonna—” he groaned as he released inside you, triggering you to come again, legs practically giving out underneath you. Hongjoong felt you slipping and held your hips up while you both rode your highs out. Once your both caught your breath, he pulled out of you, making you both shudder as he did so.

As you turned around to redress yourself, he was doing the same, he reached down to you and gave you a deep kiss, but this one was softer than the earlier ones. Once you both were redressed, your work phone rang.

You groaned, answering the phone, “coroner’s office. Huh? Uh huh.” Hongjoong stood close by, trying to listen in, “alright, where are you? Do you have a name? No? Alright, do you at least have race and sex? Weight? Rough estimate is fine. Alright. I’ll be out in under an hour. And what was your name? Got it. See ya.” You hung up the phone, scribbling the last bit of info down.

Hongjoong spoke up, “what was that about?”

You reached for your jacket that read ‘coroner’ on the back, “another death, apparently this one was a suicide. I think it’s in your jurisdiction if you wanna come out with me.”

He followed your lead, reaching for his jacket, “I guess aftercare will have to wait till later huh.”

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this was also crossposted to my ao3 :3

please do not repost or translate my work

#ateez smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez #kpop #kpop smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #ateez hard hours

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etherealevangeline · 1 month ago

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Midnight Morgue—The Morgue

hey ya’ll! please read the notes below. MDNI! please enjoy and don’t hesitate to leave feedback, it means a lot to us writers! words: 20k. my ao3: etherealevangeline

summary: reader finds herself joining Price as a coroner to pursue her “career,” as a mortician. this may or may not be an excuse to explore her eerie curiosity of death, considering her painful backstory of her dead family. this story deals with explicit themes such as smut, gore, horror, alcoholism, mental health, delusions, surgical themes/terms but probably inaccurate lol.

notes: just love the look of 2009 simon riley in this morgue AU. morgue may or may not be haunted :) ritualistic themes/cult like behavior. random sketchy ass town. Price is the supervisor. Mactavish & Garrick are small town police officers. slow burn simon x reader, enemies to lovers, simon has a huge chip on his shoulder. reader is questioning her belief in the spirit realm. feminine pronouns are used.

You found your way into the small borough of Carbon county shortly after losing your loved ones. Now, that was a while ago, having been a few years. But the pain and agony of that night never left you. It left a sinking, wallowing hole in your chest every time you thought of it. And to disguise your pain—you had turned to drinking. The feeling of the whiskey went down like water on the weekends. If anything it was less of an alcoholic drink to you and a source of never ending depravity. A way to rot on your couch.

‘’A wee alcoholic, aye?’’ You’d remember the man's words. He wasn’t the new rookie deputy cop you’d expected. No, near him was a towering man, all clad in his uniform. He had a buzzcut. What you remember was his cognac eyes boring into yours, the sight of a frown pulling at his lips from the stress of the job already taken over. Crow's feet pinched at his eye corners. His hand rested on his walkie talkie as if cradling it to soothe him.

’’Bloody hell, I don’t remember his name.’’ You muttered weakly, a sigh leaving your nostrils. Your languid, half lidded eyes from intoxication gaze up at the ceiling. It spins. You could hear the background noise of your TV—it’s nothing interesting. Nothing seems to be of interest anymore. It drags on and on until her voice drowns out. That wallowing hole inside your chest can never be sewn up, you think.

And that was mostly why you worked in a morgue. Since seeing the death of your kind—it stirred something deep inside you. Something you didn’t understand from the very beginning. It was a need to know, a primal curiosity to understand death and how it impacted the human body. You were once told it was how you coped with what happened, but how many times did you believe that when you drank your hundredth for the night?

What you still wanted to know was how it felt when that car wrapped around that pole. The smell of gasoline to burn your nostrils, and how it felt to have a 9mm blow your head off. The sound must be deafening. It must have had to blow in your eardrums and produce a shudder so violent you'd whip around. It was sickening and frightening, the kind of thoughts you had. Some would think so. But how could you sit there and write them off, when they whispered from the dark halls of your mind? Every night, beckoning. Chanting like venomous whispers.

And when the nights came, you’d sit and analyze. Hunched on your bed as the autumn night howled and the wind moaned for reprieve. Rain splattering like blood against the window. You’d replay what you’d see over and over again—only for your body to fall short of it all. The one thing missing was the experience. You were just an outsider when it happened to them, that is what it felt like.

But soon, the voices seemed to unravel. A slow hum settled down from the corner of the dingy, messy kitchen. Tablecloth slipped off, no center piece for decorum. The window was open letting in cold stark air. The lamp blinked, and surely enough your attention was back on the TV ahead of you. Rain pounds the screen as the reporter wears her flapping raincoat, eyes squinting as water raced down her pallid skin.

‘’Rattling one of the small boroughs of Pennsylvania in Jim Thorpe, a 32 year old woman was found dead by the Delaware river. Her body was found by a hiker.’’

‘’The small town is terrified as strings of bodies are found scattered around the Poconos Mountains. Will get back to you once we take five.’’ Just like that the screen cuts off. You’re left staring, shot in one hand empty. It feels cold and stale all of a sudden. It churns uneasily in your stomach, gathering like a whirlpool. Pulling at your insides and causing your vision to tilt.

Before you knew it—you’re throwing up again in your trash bin you kept beside you for when it did happen.

With all of the murders happening—bodies came in for an autopsy faster than usual. Normally, it was of a man who had fallen off a ladder and landed fatefully on his head. Leading to a subdural hematoma which then took his life. Or normally it was a druggie overdose.

But this—this pronounced a temperamental chill down your spine. Your arms brushed your sweater in uncertainty as you walked in. Your purse hangs from your shoulder—giving a glance at the receptionist who is flat faced and has saggy smile lines.

She bears no interest as you walk past and down the rickety, narrow hallway. You punch the elevator and walk in—dim and yellow lights casting a pallid sickly glow on you.

Once in the morgue downstairs, you amble down the cold constricting hallways. It’s peacefully silent, and occasionally scuffles from inside the autopsy room could be heard. When you walk in—you’re not surprised to see the bear of a man washing his hands in the sink, back facing you. He wore a reddish brown sweater, and it's rolled up. Streaks of grey line his once blonde hair. Its faint, but when you look closely you can see it. In front you is the morgue table, an overhead fluorescent lighting sending your head pounding. The lab is beside the sink, the fridge to the side holding blood samples.

‘’You’re late,’’ Price greets you gruffly, turning to wipe his wet hands on the nearby rag. He slaps it down a little too hastily for your liking--turning his shoulder to look at you, and you swallow, distant eyes tracking his boots. They were distressed, worn, and the leather was peeling from the toe front. The flaps weren’t firm anymore. His khaki pants slouch slightly at the rim of the boots.

’’Got caught up.’’ You said, the words sounding flat. It bore no heartbeat. You knew what you got caught up with.

‘’Get on with it, MacTavish is coming in with a body.’’ Price said firmly and you nodded your head. His pinched eyes watch you for any signs of swaying or slurring. You feel like a carcass—being picked apart under his gaze. He picks and prods at the meat and torn flesh that resembled you, leaving nothing but that exposed hole of deprecation.

You shudder under his gaze. You don’t like it. But you know this is how he is. Ever since you first came. It must be from all his years of military experiences which is why it came so easy to tear you apart like this with just a look.

You unwrapped your scrubby red scarf, hanging it in the closet door inside. You hang your purse and quickly scrub your hands down, head lowered in the sink where he previously stood. You get under your fingernails, as the suds glide down. You scrub until red shows up and your chest feels less tense than it did under his gaze.

Wiping your hands, you move with haste. You walk past him and the smell of tobacco hits you. He moves back to address you, eyes lingering on the top of your head uneasily. His arms cross as if surveying you. Was he a hypocrite, eyeing you as if you’d committed a war crime for drowning your sorrows? You shouldn't think like this—he’s your superior. But apart you has little to no room to care for his reputation.

You draw a figure of a body, finishing the legs, trailing up to the arms, and head. You then do a quick rinse and snap on some gloves by the lab desk area. Your fingers wiggle, and you turn to Price, holding up your hands and nodding.

He makes a quick move to talk, ‘’You’re not dead until—‘’

‘’You’re warm and dead.’’

Something almost like pride flickers in his eyes as you now announce it with ease. At first you didn't understand the implication behind the words but to him it held some sort of motivation. You thought it was silty to have said it--but upon seeing that glint in his eye it has you second guessing your thought for a second.

‘’If I ave’ to drag you to work, I will personally see to it that you’re warm and dead.’’ He said dryly. There's a hint of something in his scruffy voice but you can’t quite name it. The way his expression is hidden makes you tilt your gaze to his to see what’s underneath. To cut him open like a can of worms, to expose his insides and all his guilt. Shame. Repressed nightmares. The way he'd done with you. Maybe you’ve been staring too long because he then clears his throat.

The sound of boots thudding down the hallway come into earshot and soon a pretty, tall and boisterous man walks in. He’s sporting a mohawk, his skin somehow glistening despite the dreading atmosphere of the night. ’’We copped one, Doc.’’ He said in his thick Scottish accent, nodding a head before his eyes roamed over to you. His light eyes if it was possible--swelled with even more amusement.

You stand there, ignoring him as the body rolls in. It's the new recruit, you remembered, the one who held his walkie like it was something beloved to him. You flash a glance at his uniform—Garrick.

The victim is covered in a white sheet, you can’t tell if it’s a woman or man yet. The feet point out, unmoving and poking at the cloth. After MacTavish removed his gaze from your still form, his walkie beeps and he then comes over by Garrick who situates himself at the other end. On three, they hoisted the body onto the table.

‘’I had it.’’ Price muttered, slapping his gloves on.

Mactavish gives him a sloppy grin before stepping back on his boots, ‘’Wanted to impress the Bonnie.’’

Bunny?

What Bunny?

Confusion must’ve betrayed your normally flat face as you walked to the table, tilting the overhead lights to the body below. MacTavish's’ eyes glitter at your reaction, happy he got to milk some sort of response from you. You could tell he was interested, but not quite sure what to poke and prod at just yet. Garrick scoffs and a hand rests on his belt.

’’You’ll get it soon, dinnae fash yer’ self.’’ You glance at where the face is supposed to be, and then at MacTavish. Your lashes brush your brow bone, unwavering.

’’Give her a few and she’ll pick up the Scotsman, yeah?’’ Garrick said roughly, moving so he strolled the gurney out. He disappears down the dreadful hallway and you hear the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights again. Something irked you. They spoke as if you weren't in the room. Then again, you had a habit of shrinking away to hide from the limelight. Could you really blame them?

‘’English, MacTavish.’’ Price mumbles, but MacTavish is stepping back, saluting comically at you both before heading out, one hand resting on his vest. You don’t miss the way his holster wraps around his thigh and hugs it, his sidearm jiggling.

Price grabs his little voice recorder from his table, fingers pressing the red button. It's small and fits in his larger hands perfectly.

’’This is the autopsy of an unidentified male, assisting with John Price is the coroner.’’ He mentions your name and it almost has a grudging sense of respect behind it.

Your heart lurches ever so slightly at the recognition. Did you like that? Did you like being seen? You're not sure what to think as you cross the line of curiosity and shame. He then gave a subtle nod to you to start working. Your hands ghost over the edges of the thin sheet for a second too long.

’’Remove the sheets.’’ Price orders, still not having loosen up his tongue from his ex military days. It's sharp and biting, firm. You bet it straightens the soldiers up before any real whipping began.

And so you do.

You don't shudder at the sight. After seeing it so many times it burns like a memory behind your eyes. Pale cloudy eyes of the man meet yours. At the sight you find it intriguing even, as his eyes convey no emotion. It’s flat, staring into an abyss. He has no consciousness of course. But when you arrived at the scene of your mother, you thought you could’ve seen the horror written on her face in the aftermath.

''Unidentified male appears to be in his early 30s. He is wearing no clothes.’’ You begin, trailing your eyes down his features before his body. You reach out and flex an arm, seeing how the muscles move and flex.

‘’The man is still in rigor mortis.’’ You identify.

Price nodded, ‘’And what could that mean?’’

’’He was found in a colder temperature, or he just died within 24 hours.’’

Price gets up to shuffle to the drawing board. He then goes to write with the thin chalk, his back facing you. ‘’Timeframe 24 hours.’’ The chalk moves with haste. He doesn’t bother to write straight, his writing is long, narrow, and at the end his letter swoops down from the effort of removing the chalk. It screeches a bit.

‘’Blonde hair, possibly blue eyes but hard to tell since it's clouded over.’’

‘’So is it blue or not?’’

You give him a glance from under your lashes, and then suck in a breath. ‘’Blue it is.’’

You then continue, tilting the head this way and that, a pinch forming between your brows as you noted diligently his features. You can feel Price studying you intensely. You know you have yet to have order to your examinations. ‘’Caucasian.’’

You could then hear Price writing on the green board.

’’Scarring around his ankles and wrists, like he’s been bound.’’ Price drops the chalk on the ledge near the eraser and comes forward. He slapped his gloves on, standing at where the head is positioned and he nods for you to go to the board instead.

’’Left and right?’’ He looked at you, watching as you walk past and to the board, a hand still adjusting the gloves. He had a bit of a struggle with the gloves being too tight. You circled the ankle and wrists as he taught you, to which you drew arrows and defined “bound.”

He raised a brow and then his eyes lowered to the unidentified male, ready to start his own observations. The feeling first began as a trickle against his neck, almost like lengthy fingers stroking the skin there. Price rolled his shoulder, as if working out a kink to which you noticed after you turned.

How you wished you blinked an eye. You shifted in your spot.

“I’ve seen this before.” Price murmured, raising the ankles carefully. The joints were shattered, leaving the bone bruised and inflamed. It’s mottled purple and blue, the area ballooned. He reached out almost tenderly to push at the bone in the ankle where it meets the bulbous joint. The bone juts and pressed against the superficial skin, threatening to pierce. It slides uneasily.

“When?” You can’t help but ask. Curiosity strikes and you find yourself tip-toeing to eye his movements. He stands quite far, so you have only the view of his head tipped down, hands skillfully working below his waist.

In fact his grey is pronounced even more. It shines under the light like silver. “Ten years ago…another male came in. Unidentified. Broken wrists and ankles just like this.”

You swallowed and Prices’ eyes flashed. Almost as if reliving a forbidden memory. It's the way he said it--like a breathy whisper, as if too afraid to still admit what he’d seen. “It was a kid at that time.”

“A kid?”

Price nodded and then furrowed his brows. The skin pinches from the urge to shove the memory away. He then looked up at you, his eyes shadowed as he rested the ankle down. You clamped your mouth shut, as it seemed personal, and the voice recorder was still rolling.

Price then swiveled around to open the mouth of the male. His hands pry and it falls open unnaturally, slack and limp, “Front incisor teeth are missing. Looks to be yanked from the root.”

You wince at the comment, imagining every bit of it. It makes you shudder. You turn and continue writing down his observations, circling the mouth area. A nauseous feeling arises in you. The feeling where your stomach rises and drops on a rollercoaster ride—except there is no rollercoaster. You couldn’t tell if it was from the drinks the night before, or from seeing the body crudely mangled.

“There’s something stuck in the throat. The esophagus.” Price suddenly said, shining a light down the man's throat with a smaller penlight. You turn around, hair whipping slightly, approaching the table where the body lay. You move as light as a feather, your footsteps unheard. A steady hum from the light above soothed your nerves. “What is it?”

Price sighed heavily, as if the nights worked dragged on. It did, you couldn't blame him. “When we perform the internal examination we’ll see.”

During the internal examination, Price steadily held his instrument. The scalpel slices cleanly at the pale flesh. When he inspects the throat area, he detaches the larynx, the and the esophagus, there’s swelling and trauma. You narrowed your eyes in focus to see.

“It looks…round.” You muttered as his gloves prod at it. Price extracts what looks to be a small pouch. When he lifts it in the air because his eyes occasionally struggle to see in the dark, his brows shoot up. At first you couldn’t tell what his reaction was. That glimmer of surprise goes away, as if squashing the butt of a cigar.

From behind the pouch as it swings, his gaze then shifts to you, brows lowering into an unsettling scowl, “It’s a small pouch. Looks like it didn’t make its way into the stomach, it was too big.”

“So he choked on it,” You conclude but Price is quick to stop you.

“We don’t know that’s how he died. Open this pouch for me.”

You nod and round the corner of the table, hands fumbling for the pouch carefully. He placed it in your palms and you moved over to the lab table, where the microscope is and your vials. You sit, eyeing the pouch under the microscope as Price continues speaking to the recorder. “The pouch was lodged in the esophagus, someone made him swallow it. Or he did it on his own. But the bound marks suggest otherwise, along with the shattered left and right fibula.”

You shudder gruesomely. Someone made him swallow it? It was looking more and more likely, especially with the bruises which pointed to a clear MO. You leaned in, eyes narrowed like lasers and eyeing the material under the microscope. You hum and then move away, glancing at Price who is working the victim.

“It’s just a pouch, nothing is inside.”

“Why would he swallow something empty?” Price muttered, shaking his head as his eyes trail to the rest of the body. You wanted to know as well, to have the dots connect. Suddenly, in the line of work you found yourself feeling alive. A thirst for understanding death, yet a desire for figuring out the puzzle pieces. You thought you couldn’t feel that way ever again. You swallowed and your eyes darted away at the floor, and Price cleared his throat. You joined him.

The night ended and before you knew it, you and Price concluded the death was caused by a stab wound to the heart. A tiny hole, piercing through the muscle and flesh, almost looking like a corkscrew. it was located laterally, by the ribs. It was nestled well. The thought of someone painfully easing it in, twisting and hearing the bone crack under pressure—It was too much. And then to endure the plain of everything else. It was borderline torture at that point. Maybe it was torture.

But why? Why this person? What did they do? More so, who did this?

''Whoever did this must've had a helluva PTO.'' Price muttered, before he shut off the lights, casting the area in complete darkness.

''Who do you think did it?'' Your voice comes out strong and grounded. Apart of you was not afraid to ask, you yearned for an answer. You gazed at Price who sighed and grabbed his hunky jacket, slinging it on. He glanced at you.

''If I took a wild guess, someone with a lotta' experience. They knew which bones to break, most importantly corked the mans heart fatally.''

You don't necessarily feel an ache towards the male, but it manifested as an insistent need to analyze the situation. That was how your brain worked, like a piston.

Price had left a while ago, leaving you to fend for yourself. The night is settled with a thick, blue haze stretching solemnly across the cemetery. The trees huddle and lean in as if sharing secrets, but more than ever you feel it offers you no child like curiosity, the way you would have felt when you were naive. Blankets of fog roll in like an oncoming wave. You strolled to your car.

“What d’ya find?” Suddenly, a voice cuts through the cold stale air. A certain MacTavish called out from behind you as you walked. You're arms are crossed as your burgundy cardigan is wrapped around you to keep you warm but it offers little comfort. Your scarf flits in the air as you turn around to see him.

Mactavish is leaning against the patrol car, and biting into a sandwich. It reminded you that your stomach ached as well for food. Something warm. Something tangible beyond years of numbness. You eye him before walking forward to stand beside him, although not necessarily mingling in his personal space. “What are you doing here? At this hour.” You ask, not wanting to discuss what had been on your very mind as you walked out the morgue. It was teetering at 2am now, and the idea of having a lengthy discussion of blood and bones did not interest you.

“Got called in for a bar brawl.” He said with food in his mouth. You eye him with a sense of distaste, a brow cocking and your arms still crossed to shield yourself from the October cold. You swallowed and shook your head. The shadows of the gnarly fork like trees draped over your faces, the lamp shade doing nothing to console your uneasiness. “Sounds better than my night.”

“Join me, then.” He said a bit too cheekily. You scoff, shoving a hair away from your cheek as it grazed in the wind. You’re pretty sure you resembled Rudolf the red nosed reindeer since the cold was getting harsher and unforgiving these nights. It consumed the forests and every crevice it could.

You then look at him, pausing and eyeing his amused expression. His eyes twinkled, most certainly remembering a certain event you two shared.

Finishing the last of his sandwich, he dusted his hands off and stood tall, shifting on the pavement. “I’ll drop ya home.” Did he forget you had a car?

“Not necessary.” You said a bit too fast, cutting him at the last second. You stiffen up and grasp at your elbows tighter, as if trying to melt away in your cardigan. You’re not sure what’s worse, him seeing the bottles of alcohol on the ground, or your messy unkempt place. It looked as if a hurricane rummaged in there. And his joke of being an alcoholic—it rubbed you the wrong way. The alcohol would only confirm his jokes of you.

But there was no use hiding it. It’s what you depended on for a second long high. And then the weight came crashing down, it crashed hard. But now it had been a running joke of your drunkenness, when you came into work accidentally and met the cop, MacTavish. Let’s just say, you two played in places you weren’t supposed to be.

He happened to just drop off a body, whilst he found you sitting at the stale reception desk, working. You typed clumsily and appeared dazed. The lady called in sick, so Simon took over your shift, a man you'd met a few times. MacTavish then grinned devilishly, “Aren’t ye' the new morgue lass?” And you gave him a bedazzling smile and grin as if you’d known the man. Cheeks lifted, hair flowing in waves, the warm light almost illusioned you in such a cunning way. You did not know him. It was the alcohol pumping loudly combined with the horrible urge, insistent urge to run away from your past. And behind your eyes you hid very well the pain and agony. It was believable, to the point MacTavish thought you were one of those rowdy restaurant girls, cosplaying as a mortuary assistant. Probably his favorite trope.

You could remember the way he hid without a car it seemed in the morgue storage. He laid down, went in and you shut it. To scare him—you suddenly spoke amongst the corpses when five minutes passed and he yelled, wanting to get out. “Lass, I swear to god next time ye’ will be in here.”

Snapping back to reality, as the wind howled like a wolf in pain--you knew that wasn’t the real you. This was. This distant, shrouded and shell of a self. You zoomed back in, the voices and vision fading away from view. You could hear him talk clearly now.

He had his hands raised as if his hands were burned, brows raised, “I willnae’.”

You awkwardly glance at him, to which he gazes at, before walking on your boots off the pavement, fishing for your car keys in your cardigan pocket. Your car beeps when you press the button and you sighed. Your silence left him stunned momentarily, and confused. The man is not sure of what to think when it came to you, your behavior. You were first a Tinkerbelle, the manic pixie that night, and now you were a closed off wall.

“Get home safe, will ye?” He hesitantly said from behind you. He watched as your hair whipped and you then gave him a weary glance before leaving in your car. You thought he muttered something along the lines of, “Can never seem to pick one up, aye?” He sighed pitifully, turning away.

In your car as you drove down the narrow highway, trees whizzed past. An eerie fog had set in and you put on your hard lights to see ahead. You then slowed down, sighing through your nose. Long morning, love drive.

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prideskullsfics · 2 months ago

Photo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60130975

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Agatha All Along (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal, agathario - Relationship Characters: Agatha Harkness, Rio Vidal Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, workplace tension, Police Procedural, Detective/Coroner Relationship, Verbal Sparring, Hurt/Comfort, Underlying Sexual Tension, Professional Rivalry, Light Angst, Found Family (Implied), Subtle flirting, Fluff, Softening Edges, mutual respect, First Meeting, Falling In Love Series: Part 2 of Agathario AU: “Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought.” Summary:

New coroner Rio Vidal’s flair and humor clash with Chief Detective Agatha Harkness’s no-nonsense attitude, fiery rivalry is born. But as sharp words leave soft edges, turning to unexpected connection, their professional bickering reveals a chemistry neither can ignore.

#agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #rio vidal #rio x agatha #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn #workplace tension #detective/coroner relationship #found family #fluff #love #wlw

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nat-space-obsessed · 9 months ago

Text

For @kinglazrus !! Super excited abt this one! I love corpse aus so I just had to do this one.

AO3 Link

"There's a shallow grave in the woods. The only marker is a stone with the name "Danny" scratched into it. Judging by the fresh-turned soil, it hasn't been empty for long."

The call came in from a hiker early in the morning.

She'd been going on her daily hike when she decided to go on a route that was different from her normal route.

When she tripped over the rock, she should have known that there was something wrong. At first, she started to walk past, and continue on her hike.

It was on her way back that she really noticed the issue.

The rock she had tripped over had writing that she didn't notice the first time.

It was a simple engraving, probably done with another rock or a different sharp tool, definitely not professionally done.

There was one word.

A name.

'DANNY'

It was at that point that she realized that the dirt path seemed to be disturbed near the edges, as if someone had gone digging.

Oh god, someone had been digging .

As she looked at the disturbed dirt, she saw something odd. It was an odd color, looking as if it had been burned or melted, blackened.

It was a bone.

A charred, dirty, old bone, covered in a material that had melted and fused to it.

It was like one of those horror stories, of certain toys made from plastic materials melting onto skin if exposed to too much heat.

She called the police station the second she was in range of a cell tower.

All the operator at the call center heard was, "God, the bones , they're black, they're burned. There's bones in the woods ."

The CSI left the station immediately.

...

"She wasn't kidding, these bones were definitely burned, but they're weird. It's more reminiscent of electrical burns. What could output enough power to burn a body so thoroughly by electrocution?" The lead CSI said. She was wearing gloves and slowly unburying the body.

The more they uncovered, the more horrified they were.

"This is a kid," A member of the team said, "Either a kid or a small person. The size of the bones indicate that the owner of this body was under 5 ft. Maybe a small kid? What name did the stone say?"

"Danny, I think, it's a little hard to read, but that looks like the right name."

"Wait, wasn't there a kid that went missing a year ago from Amity named Danny?"

"Yeah, but I thought the parents were under suspicion, with that weird lab in their basement."

"Didn't the sister call it in?" The one handling the bones said.

The case they were talking about was the case of Daniel Fenton. He had gone missing four weeks before his freshman year, except he was only reported missing when his sister came back from a college summer camp. Two weeks after he supposedly went missing.

Because of this, nobody actually figured out when he went missing. The police had searched the entire Fenton home, which had uncovered the lab in the basement of the home.

The Fentons had a portal. An interdimensional portal to some place they called the Ghost Zone, and it had corresponded with sightings of weird, translucent, flying people that had been sighted in the city.

They had been taken into custody, but then later released due to a lack of evidence. His sister was still advocating for missing children, especially kids who weren't reported until long after they vanished.

"But this body is too decomposed for only a few months. Maybe the burns accelerated it?"

"I mean, if this is the Fenton kid-"

"Don't start being a conspiracy theorist now, Sean." The lead investigator said, shaking her head.

"You never know!"

...

The coroner's office was cold. The autopsy room was colder.

The body on the table was small, a kid, wearing a plastic material that had seemed to fuse with the bones it was covering.

The bones, God the bones. They were blackened, covered in a dark material, flesh that had been burnt to a blackened crisp.

The coroner looked at the body in front of him and sighed.

The only thing he could easily use for identification that wasn't fingerprints or DNA were dental records. Luckily, while the corpse was completely desecrated, the bones were somehow intact.

He was able to take a scan of the teeth and send them off to be compared with all local dentist offices within a 50 mile radius.

It was a few minutes later when he got the ping.

There's a match.

"Shit."

...

The Fentons were in their lab when they got a phone call.

"Hello, this is Jack Fenton of Fentonworks, how can I help you?" The burly man said into the receiver.

"Hello, Mr. Fenton. This is the Briggersdale Police Department, calling you to inform you that a few days ago, we found a body in the woods. This body has been identified as the body of your son, Daniel." The voice on the other end said to him.

"What?" Jack stood with the phone in hand in shock. Maddie chose that moment to walk into the room.

"Are you okay, Jack?"

Jack thanked the officer and hung up. "They... found a body."

"A body? Why did they contact you? Where was this?"

"The next town over. The body was identified. It was Danny's."

A sharp intake of breath could be heard from Maddie. "We need to call Jazz."

"She isn't speaking to us, she'd just ignore anything we have to say to her."

"She'll listen, it's about Danny."

...

Jazz Fenton had been having a good day. She had only one class that morning, her favorite introduction to developmental psychology course, and she had just finished speaking with her roommate about their date next weekend with their longtime girlfriend. She was happy for them. She was having a good time, reading one of her favorite books at her desk.

It was a good day, until she got the phone call.

It was from her parents.

She refused the call at first. This was the third time that week her parents had tried to contact her, and the third time she refused their call.

Usually they stopped trying to call her, and just left her a few texts after she refused their call, but this time was different.

She should have known something was wrong.

"What is it? I thought I told you guys to never contact me again." Jazz spoke before either of her parents could even get one word out.

"Jazz... They found it."

"What, what did they find?" Jazz stood up. She was really getting annoyed now, with them being all cryptic towards her.

"His body. Jazz, they found Danny's body."

Jazz's phone slipped out of her hands.

What?

They found his body. They found his body.

Oh god, he was actually dead.

Jazz knew after the first few days she realized her brother was missing that the chances of finding him again were slim to none, and after the first two weeks, she knew that she would probably sooner see a body bag than see her brother alive again.

But this? This made it real.

He was dead.

He was gone .

She was never going to see him again.

Oh god, this was real .

She stared in front of her. She stared at the wall.

Her knees gave out and she slumped to the ground.

She could feel her eyes well up with tears.

She could hear her roommate shouting her name and kneeling in front of her as she sobbed, crying and trying to say anything, but no words would come out of her mouth.

Oh god, she had to tell Sam and Tucker.

No way would her parents even know that he had them as his friends, and they were always the first people that she gave updates to, even before her parents. They deserved to know he was... dead. That they had found his body.

...

Sam and Tucker were hanging out at Tucker's house when Sam's phone rang.

She picked it up, recognizing the number as Jazz's.

Tucker watched as emotions crossed her face, beginning with worry, and ending in dread.

"Oh my god. Tucker. They found it."

“Shit.” He said.

“Shit.” She nodded in agreement.

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juicycoutureheaux · 2 years ago

Text

Fixer Upper

This is an AU with sheriff!Leon x innocent!farm girl reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

I usually don’t write for Leon, but I felt inspired to write after a work inspired by Lol I felt like the story idea was fitting for his character. This is set in another time, around the 1950s, so there will be some sensitive topics that my personal values DO NOT align with. We can’t change the past but we can change the future, I will put TW but if I miss anything please let me know, I would love to be accommodating. Let me know what y’all think if it’s good enough to be a series or if I should even want to entertain the idea.

This fic was inspired by a new friend who I have been so excited to be able to get to know over a short period of time. thank you for everything @heavennights , you're an amazing human.

Y/N wiped the sweat from her brow as she leaned over the truck’s steaming engine.

It was her daddy’s old Ford truck and she wasn’t even supposed to take it out this long. She cursed herself for not bringing her tool set, but she didn’t anticipate the truck to get overheated so quickly either.

You wanted to cry, you were dreading the tongue-lashing you’d get from your daddy when you got home. Y/N had just turned 18 earlier that month, right before she graduated high school.

You wanted to go to college,learn about space, and how to get there; but mama & daddy said it was a waste of time, they would never let a woman work at NACA; no matter how hard she tried.

Instead, Daddy had pulled in a favor from one of his childhood friends that worked at the police station and got you a job there as a secretary. Daddy prayed that Y/N would settle down with a good man that could take care of you. The farm was going to be passed down to your older brother, Hank.

Hank was already married with a child on the way. His wife, Mary-Anne, was one of your only friends. She was two years older than you but they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

You were deep in thought when you heard tires coming down the dirt road. She turned around and saw the flashing lights coming from the vehicle's top.

When the vehicle came to a stop, you realized you hadn’t recognized the man getting out of the front seat. You couldn’t help but stiffen up at the stranger and felt a cold shiver down your spine despite it being close to 90 degrees outside.

You couldn’t deny the man was handsome; his clear skin was complemented by his stormy blue eyes. His features mirrored the men in the magazines, his hair longer in the front and slicked to the side. His official Springfield County Name tag read “Deputy Kennedy.”

You must have been staring too long because he smirked at you playfully. It made you blush.

“Looks like you have a dilemma here, darlin.” He said, his voice lacking the southern accent most people had in this area.

“Oh…uhm…” you said timidly looking at the broken down truck. You were sure you had never seen this man before despite working for the local police force. She knew the sheriff's position had opened up but didn’t realize they had someone in mind since Chuck DuBois had resigned.

“You’re not in trouble, sweetheart. I’m here to help.” He smiled a toothy smile at you.

You couldn’t help but return it meekly. “I was trying to get home, but my engine overheated,” you said, trying to choke back tears. “I can walk up the road to Parker’s Gas station and call my daddy, I don't want to waste your time.

The man looked at you shocked. “In this heat, sweetheart? You might as well call the coroner now.”

It was a hot day, and your hairline growing damper by the second.

“Let me take you home, I’m sure we can get your daddy out here and we can fix the truck for you.” He opened the passenger door for you and you gladly accepted.

“Deputy Kennedy” cranked the car and the radio blared to life playing “I Walk the Line” by Johnny Cash.

He extended his hand to you. “I realized I didn’t introduce myself; I’m Kennedy, Deputy Leon Kennedy,” he eyed you up and down absentmindedly. “And you are…?”

You blinked. “Oh, I’m, “Y/F/N, Y/L/N.”

Leon looked at you for a minute, before he asked, “That last name, is your father Farmer L/N?”

You shook your head.

Leon smiled at you brightly. “So you’re my new secretary! Damn, this town is really tiny!” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. What were the chances?

You decided to be brave and get to know your new boss.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m actually from Colorado, but I moved to Georgia about a year ago.”

“That’s really neat.” You said meekly, not quite sure how else to respond.

“I guess, have you ever been?”

You shook your head, “I’ve never been out of the South, but I would like to ride on an airplane one day!” You said excitedly.

His handsome features turned into a genuine smile. “I know you will, Y/N.”

You blushed and they rode together in comfortable silence until his car pulled down the long driveway of the farmhouse.

Y/N’s father and mother were waiting for her outside the farmhouse. You gulped and suddenly felt like a small child.

Leon let out a deep whistle. “Looks like they’ve been waiting for you.”

He exited the car, waved in the direction of her parents, and opened the door for her.

She hesitantly got out and walked up to the house. Y/N’s father was the first to talk.

“Where the hell have you been?” He looked at Leon. “And why the hell are you wasting the deputy’s time to escort you home? Why didn’t you call?” He raised his voice.

You were scared to answer, you were shaking and very upset to get the courage to speak.

“Sir, I insisted that she ride with me. The truck she was driving had broken down and she wanted to call, I felt that it would be more efficient to just take her home.”

Y/N’s father’s glare softened. “If you insisted,” was all the rugged farmer could say.

Your mother grabbed you to take you inside, but you resisted slightly, thanking Leon for his Kindness instead.

He tipped his hat, “No need to thank me, miss.” he said genuinely, “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning at the station.”

He walked back to the patrol car and drove away, the dust from the unpaved driveway following him.

Your mother wasted no time in pulling you harder than before, into the farmhouse.

“Y/n!” she scolded. “What were you doing accepting a ride from a man you had never met before? I hope Patrick’s parents don’t hear about it!”

You cringed. You were so taken up with Deputy Kennedy��s kindness, you had completely forgotten that your parents had set you up with someone else.

Patrick was a young, college-educated fellow whose parents were influential in not just your town, but the entire southeast. Your mother was absolutely delighted when his mother, Suzanne approached her in church one Sunday and suggested setting you and Patrick up.

According to Suzanne, you were a charming match for her son, you had no reputation of being “fast” and came from a good god-fearing family.

You had never interacted with Patrick before, despite your brother Hank having gone to school with him. When you asked Hank about Patrick, Hank scoffed. “That guy is known for being a candy-ass, but popular with the ladies. He was always playing backseat bingo with some floozy.”

“Mama and Daddy want to set me up with him.” She confessed to Hank. “Miss Suzanne insisted we meet.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, they’re that desperate to get you off the farm? I knew you were talking about that NACA stuff, but I didn’t think they were listening.” He said bluntly.

“What are you talking about?”

“They don’t want you going to college, Y/N. They want you close to home, that space shit, its just a bunch of bullshit.”

Y/N felt her ears get hot. Sure, she wasn’t the smartest, but she had won the Science Fair three years in a row, all of her projects inspired by NACA. She was interested in how intricate mathematical equations could put men into space.

“It's not bullshit.” She said quietly.

“I know it's not bullshit to you, Y/N; but people around here, they don't know the difference.”

She decided to end the conversation and head up to her room after that.

The next day she was dressed in her Sunday best waiting in the Armstrong family’s Parlor. It would be her first time meeting Patrick. He came strolling in, dressed in preppy casual attire, oblivious of his surroundings.

She rose to meet him. “Oh, darlin’ don’t you get out of that chair, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” You blushed at him calling you a pet name so quickly.

“I apologize, I didn’t know what to expect.”

“You’re too polite! I know why my mother had such an interest in you.” He said proudly.

You analyzed his features, his eyes were dark but expressive; his windblown hair had soft curls. You thought he was quite handsome, no wonder Hank had mentioned him being so popular with the girls.

He sat down next to you, smelling of aftershave. You were enamored with him already, none of the boys at school ever paid you any mind. You could have never imagined holding a princely character such as Patrick’s undivided attention.

As you two were starting to engage in casual conversation, an older woman in a maid’s uniform brought in a tray of iced tea & other refreshments.

“Thank you, Lavinia.” Patrick said passively.

Lavinia just bowed silently and hurried out of the room quietly.

You had never been served by anyone before. You were so shocked you couldn’t even focus on the fact that Patrick was eyeing you carefully.

“Sooo, what do you do in your spare time y/n? Surely you don’t spend all your time entertaining farm animals all day.”

That last part of the statement caught you off guard. Is that all he thought of you as? A simple farmer’s daughter?

You laughed awkwardly. The laugh was more for Patrick’s comfort as he was obviously proud of his poor attempt at humor.

“I enjoy reading to the animals,” you said sarcastically. You looked as Patrick’s handsome features contorted into an expression between confusion and genuine concern.

“That was a joke,” you rushed to say. “I enjoy reading, but obviously to myself.”

Patrick’s face relaxed, relief spreading over his features. “Oh, that's neat! What do you like to read?”

“Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles is one of my favorite books.”

Patrick looked at you, the confused look coming back to his face. “That's…interesting.” He said, trying to be polite.

“What do you like to do?” You tried to direct the conversation to himself.

You quickly learned Patrick loved to talk about himself, he couldn’t stop talking about his various “Achievements”.

You listened patiently, thankful that he probably wouldn’t ask you any more questions about yourself; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself further.

After he listed off his various conquests of sailing and horseback riding, he began to scoot closer to you.

“I think this has been a wonderful meeting, mother was right, you are quite beautiful.” He said, brushing stray hair behind your ear.

You blushed, you had never been touched like that.

“Do you think we could meet again next week? I would love to take you out.”

You nodded enthusiastically.

“Wonderful!” He checked his wristwatch. “It looks like it’s getting late, would you like me to take you home?”

You looked at him hesitantly, you were unsure about having another man drive you home.

“Don’t worry,” he said, an almost devious look shone through his eyes, “I don’t bite.”

You reluctantly agreed and soon you were in his 1956 Red Corvette. It was a sporty thing, he insisted riding with the ragtop down. He handed you a pair of sunglasses that were hiding in the glove compartment.

“You’ll need these.” He said as he put his own pair over his eyes.

He looked perfect. How could he be anything less? His life was absolutely charmed. You wondered if he ever felt out of place, of course not.

As the two of you were riding in the car, he moved his hand closer to you, slowly and put it on your knee.

You felt butterflies in your stomach, completely overwhelmed by all the new sensation. Wind blowing your hair violently, the scent of summer and Patrick’s warm large hand on your bare knee.

The ride was over too soon for your liking. You handed the sunglasses back to him.

“Keep ‘em sweetheart. You’ll need them again when I pick you up next time.” He winked at you.

You felt like your knees were going to turn to liquid and you felt like you couldn’t move.

He leaned over and gave you a peck on your cheek and you almost fell over.

You quickly gathered your things.

“T-thank you for your time. It was really nice!” You stuttered out.

“Anytime Sweetheart.”

When you got to the door safely and waved goodbye he started the car and rolled away.

You would be dreaming of this moment for a while.

#resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #alternate universe #fanfiction

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 7 months ago

Text

Love In Trouble [Part One]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler,

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2576

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

Notes: The first couple chapters are a bit slow going but we'll meet Lori and Elvis soon I promise. Looking to post every other week with this one :) Enjoy

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Ever since he was a little boy Austin Butler had loved the sun. There was just something about it; the way it shined basking everything it covered in a golden hue or how everyone seemed a little happier whenever it was out. He supposed it was because it made him feel like he was at home in California, a place he had been missing quite a bit recently, the clunky fit of her new job and his run down flat making him yearn for palm trees and ocean breeze. He’d even take his old partner at this rate, a curmudgeonly old man knocking on the door of retirement and not one to care about a young detective trying to find his feet in a new precinct. Though if there was one thing he desperately missed about home it was the fact that the Californian heat couldn’t wreak half as much havoc on a dead body like the balmy air of Memphis did.

After working in homicide for so long he’d figured he’d gotten used to all the smells that a ripe cadaver could hold but in this tiny apartment with no air conditioner and the contending June temperatures he was proved wrong. He held his breath as he ducked under the police tape cursing himself for having eaten not so long ago as his turkey sandwich did cartwheels inside him. Then again he supposed it could be worse he could be the guy splayed out on the floor in front of him lying in a pool of his own blood, his eyes still staring out glassy and cold. Austin sighed.

Even though his entire job was murder it somehow never got any easier. The number of dead bodies he’d seen didn’t take that sickly feeling away whenever he was confronted by his latest victim. Though admittedly he wondered if that was less to do with a life being snuffed out too soon or the fact he knew that at some point he’d have to take this news to their friends and family and rip their world apart. It was a grief he’d known himself, one that never got easier no matter how much time or distance you shoved between yourself and it.

Given that the coroner had yet to arrive it meant that the crime scene was technically still closed and so he was careful to keep his distance when he bent down beside the body, wrinkling his nose at the fresh waft of decomposition. The guy was young, no more than early twenties if he’d had to guess, and attractive too in a boyish sort of way. Though they were lifeless now he could tell his pale blue eyes were striking and had no doubt once complimented the guy’s skin tone even if it was now waxy and pallid. In fact the only detracting feature was the bullet wound to his temple which he had no doubt looked better on this side than the one that had landed face down, spewing blood onto the beige carpet and turning it a deep shade of brown.

‘There’s gunpowder on his face,’ his partner, Detective John Melling, said as he appeared from nowhere, his errand to find the manager of the place apparently done with.

‘Yeah I know, a close shot,’ Austin said, pulling up from where he was crouched and trying to ignore the way his slacks stuck to the back of his knees as if glued there by sweat, ‘which means that bullet is probably somewhere in that bookshelf.’

‘Good luck with that one,’ John snorted. Austin rolled his eyes. He liked John. He was a good detective, smart and good with families, but he, like most of the other detectives in Shelby County, had yet to make his mind up about the newcomer from California. And so he treated him as the rest did, with caution, until he proved his worth which in this instance meant finding a bullet amongst a backdrop of wood and wall.

As John moved away to rifle through the man’s mail Austin moved around the room, stopping first at the bookshelves. He could see the path it had taken, ripping a novel in half as it hurried to its final destination only that looked to be out of reach and so he made a note to circle back to it. After that he moseyed on looking for his first impression, one that was building bit by bit until he spotted an older bald man standing by the uniformed officer at the police tape.

‘Can I help you?’ Austin asked the man who had been staring at the body as if in a trance. Austin moved to block his view, feeling a sudden urge to protect his victim as if he was now exposed as if he hadn’t already been ogling the guy himself.

‘Uh, no, I er,’ the man mumbled. John barely looked up from the stack of envelopes as he said, ‘he’s the one who called it in. Landlord.’

‘Oh,’ Austin said, moving towards the man so that they were just separated by the doorframe and police tape. Again the landlord’s eyes flitted back to the body, his colour paling as he suppressed a dry heave. Austin cleared his throat, diverting his attention as he asked, ‘you see anything uh?’

‘Geoff, Geoff Halton,’ the landlord said, ‘and uh no. Like I told your friend I was just coming to collect the rent.’

‘When’s that due?’ Austin asked.

‘First of the month,’ Geoff replied. Austin raised an eyebrow.

‘And you waited,’ he paused, checking his watch for the date, ‘what five days to come and ask for it? That doesn’t sound like any landlord I’ve ever had.’

‘Well he’s never normally late so I gave him a few extra days,’ Geoff said as he pulled a crinkled-up handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks so that he could dab his sweaty brow, the perspiration nothing to do with the outside temperature. Austin knew he was being unfair that the likelihood of this weathered middle aged man having anything to do with this was low but he had always found putting the first responder under pressure to be a good technique. In their desperation to prove their innocence they offered up more evidence which looking around the bare bones of this guy’s apartment couldn’t be a bad thing.

‘Five’s a lot of days,’ Austin countered.

‘Like I said he’s never been any trouble and I’d rather have one good tenant a day or two behind once in a while than a nightmare one on time. But when he still didn’t swing by my office I thought something might be up,’ Geoff replied.

‘So when he didn’t pay up you came around?’ Austin asked, receiving a nod in return.

‘I knocked but there was no answer,’ Geoff replied.

‘Did you let yourself in?’ Austin asked, his eyes surveying the wood of the door for any scuffs or marks. If he had done it was likely that any prints on the door handle would be useless.

‘I have the master key,’ Geoff said, adding in protest when he saw Austin deflate, ‘but I only ever use it for emergencies! And when I came in I could smell, well, that. I saw him lying there and I knew there ain’t no use checkin’ he was still alive so I called you guys.’

‘Do you know his name?’ Austin asked, suddenly realising he’d been poking around in this man’s life without even knowing his most basic detail.

‘Tony,’ Geoff replied.

‘Tony what?’ Austin pressed.

‘Bowen,’ John replied, holding up an envelope as Austin looked his way before turning his attention back to the landlord.

‘Did he live here alone?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Geoff replied.

‘Any relatives?’ Austin pressed, the mugginess of the room making this feel harder than he’d anticipated it to be.

‘I’d have to check his file to see who he listed,’ Geoff said, ‘we’re not exactly close.’

‘Obviously the man’s been laying in your building dead as a doornail for five days,’ Austin countered, his sniping coming out before he had a chance to stop it. Geoff seemed bolstered by his tartness, straightening up from the nervous pathetic puddle he’d been and growing irritated as he said hotly, ‘what I meant was I don’t know much about him. He keeps to himself; he keeps his nose clean and that’s as much as I need to know.’

‘Not too clean evidently,’ John countered, finally moving away from the stack of unopened post. Austin could feel him looking around, surveying the scene, and feeling as though they’d probably pressed about as much out of Geoff that was useful he decided to cut him loose in favour of asking his partner his opinions.

‘Go with officer Bryant here and find those papers. We’re gonna need a next of kin to notify,’ Austin said, not waiting for a response before he turned his back on the man. John raised an eyebrow but waited until the pair of them were left alone with just Tony for company who admittedly didn’t make much of an effort to join in.

‘You were a little sharp with him don’t you think?’ John asked, perching on the edge of a sofa arm.

‘It gets them to the point,’ Austin said dismissively, ‘and considering he wasn’t much help that’s a good thing.’

‘Yeah? Let me guess the room’s telling you more than the eye witness is,’ John said, his scepticism poking through. That was another thing he was still getting used to, the reliance people of the south had on human nature. Over the dozen or so cases they’d worked together he’d been astounded to realise just how much word and character spoke when clear cut facts were staring people in the face. In fact ‘they’re good folks’ was a narrative he was sure he’d never get on board with. Still he didn’t bother to argue the point but rather present the facts themselves showing how even without speaking the room had said more than the landlord had.

‘Maybe. He’s a single guy right?’ Austin asked.

‘Looks like,’ John said, glancing around, ‘he could have a girl though.’

‘One that doesn’t get in contact or check up on him for more than five days?’ Austin asked, raising an eyebrow. As John shrugged and nodded in agreement he continued, ‘from the looks of this apartment I’d say he’s a single guy living alone and his landlord doesn’t know his next of kin which means he either doesn’t have one or they’re infrequently in touch or at the very least they don’t come here to see him.’

‘Right,’ John replied.

‘So why are there two glasses of half-drunken scotch on the coffee table?’ Austin asked, watching as John noted the two whiskey glasses in front of him.

‘So there was someone here,’ John replied.

‘But his mail is unopened and the pizza box on the counter is full, an uneaten pizza just sitting there,’ Austin continued making John’s eyes drift past him to the De Roma’s pizza box sitting on the kitchen worktop, the bottom of the cardboard darkened by the grease that had been soaking into it as the pizza lay uneaten.

‘So what?’ John asked.

‘I think he came home with the pizza and mail in hand but he was distracted by someone coming over. It mustn’t have been planned otherwise they’d just eat the pizza together. If it happened after he’d been home for a while the pizza would be gone and his mail opened,’ Austin said.

‘He opens the door for the guy who’s gonna put a bullet in his skull and asks him if he wants a night cap?’ John said sceptically.

‘Maybe the person came to talk and Tony felt like he had to,’ Austin replied.

‘But if it was about something worth killing the guy for I can’t imagine it was a polite chat. And apart from the dead guy the apartment looks in pretty good condition to me,’ John said, glancing around the room. He was right apart from the unsightly corpse in the centre of the room; the rest of it was relatively tidy. Granted it wasn’t very large with the room split into a living and kitchen area but there was no clutter, apart from the bookshelf there wasn’t much personality to any of it. It actually resembled Austin’s current apartment, devoid of personality though his was due to lack of time to make it his own given the fact he was new in town and always working. Though at this point that felt slightly better. He may have not had a chance to put a fresh lick of paint on his walls but he also hadn’t had a chance to make enemies like Tony apparently had. Austin was thinking about that, wondering what had made the guy sit down with the person who would end his life.

Had he known what was coming or why they were there? Or had he been blindsided by it all?

‘Is that his file?’ John asked, snapping his partner out of his trance as the landlord reappeared at the door along with their officer. Apparently Austin’s attitude had left no love lost as he nodded but didn’t say anything, offering the small manilla folder over the tape as if signalling both his compliance and reluctance at the same time. Austin rolled his eyes but watched as John took the folder from him before he quickly scurried out of view.

‘What have we got?’ Austin asked as John threw the folder down on the tiled counter with a splat before he started to sift through it. If he was being honest with himself he wanted to read through it himself but knew it was probably better to give him the lead here. John’s eyes flitted across the pages. From what Austin could see there were a few info pages, copies of receipts and rent stubs but nothing much else.

‘Says here Grandma’s next of kin but it looks like she lives in Florida,’ John murmured as he read through the sheet, ‘lease agreement was signed over a year ago and he works at, oh.’

‘What is it?’ Austin asked craning his neck to try and spy what he had spotted. Though as his partner looked up, a beaten expression falling across his face he started to worry.

‘He works at Kings,’ John said with a sigh.

‘So?’ Austin said. He’d heard of the place. A little club on Beale Street, a home of good music and the hotshots of Memphis though he had yet to scope out the joint for himself. What he had heard though did not warrant the reaction John was giving, one that signalled their job had just gotten a little harder. Then again as a native Memphian maybe there was something Austin didn’t know yet. After all there wasn’t a club or bar on his patch when he worked the beat he didn’t know inside out. He knew which places were known for trouble and those he could rely on for a tip here or there. And from the look John was giving him he was sure Kings wasn’t one of those he could hit up for some friendly police cooperation.

‘So if he works there then chances are this is something to do with them,’ John said.

‘Who?’ Austin asked.

‘The Memphis Mafia.’

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @louisejoy86 @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @lettersfromvenus @artlesson8892 @presleyenterprise

AUSTIN TAGS

@purejasmine @caitlin1996

#my writing #elvis presley #austin butler #elvis presley fic #austin butler fic #elvis presley x ofc #elvis fic #austin butler x ofc #love in trouble #elvis presley x lori presley #austin butler x lori presley #memphis mafia #mafia au

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astra-galaxie · 14 days ago

Note

also, if the motp crew were to be reintroduced in the modern world, what do you think their jobs would be if they weren’t police officers?

I’ve been thinking of making a S5 reboot concept, where like the motp cast comes to grimsborough to search for the player because boom they somehow remember thier past lives and how they were all best buds, and I’m stumped on whether to make them regular civilians, or police officers

(Maybe even include a scene where there slightly upset player’s with the grinnsborough police department and won’t join them…)

That sounds like a fantastic idea for an AU concept! It sucks that the MotP characters can't appear in other seasons since it's set like 100+ years in the past, so bringing them back through reincarnation is definitely thinking outside of the box!

You could choose either career option, as both would work! If you went the police route, I think the bigger question would be whether they work for the CPD or if the Flying Squad is still operational/has been brought back with them somehow.

(And having them be upset that the player won't leave the GBPD would be fitting, especially if the player doesn't remember their past life, unlike the Flying Squad…)

Now, for your initial question!

In my "modern-day Flying Squad headcanons" post, I mentioned some potential jobs the Flying Squad could have. But let’s see what else I can come up with for possible careers they could have if they didn't work for a police force…

Arthur Wright: I once headcanoned that he was a professional violinist, so I’m going to reuse that idea! Other than that, maybe a teacher of some sort or a small shop owner? (I don’t know what this man would do besides Police Chief…)

Isaac Bontemps: He’s a bit of a challenge, too…. It would probably be something classy… Maybe an antique dealer? I don’t know what exactly Isaac’s modern-day job would be… I could see him being a boxer in his younger years but stopping after a serious injury, but other than that, I'm at a bit of a loss!

Maddie O’Malley: I could see her working in a car-related field, maybe mechanics and racing on the side. I picture her as someone who enjoys driving fast and the freedom it gives her.

Dick Wells: I think he would still work in the medical field, and if I had to pick something besides a coroner, I would say a doctor, possibly one who works in palliative care since he seems to have no issues dealing with death. Another option could be a mortician if he went the non-medical route.

Viola Pemberton: I could see her following in her parents' footsteps and becoming a pharmacist. She would still act on the side, performing in plays at the local theatre.

Charlie Dupont: An engineer who invents things on the side. It just seems to fit him!

Evie Halloway: A librarian. She would also still write books on the side, probably starting small, like how she had a series in “Pistols and Petticoats” and then expanding and branching out as an independent author.

Rose Zhao: I could see her having worked for the military and, after leaving, taking up bounty hunting. Rose always strikes me as somewhat of an adrenaline junkie, so her career should be equally as exciting!

Diego del Lobo: Probably still an artist and thief on the side, but I’ve always had the headcanon that he makes his own clothes, so his main career could be a tailor/fashion designer.

And that’s all I got! Hopefully, this will help you with your S5 reboot concept! If you ever need help, you can reach out to me anytime, and I’ll see what I can do!😊

#criminal case #criminal case mysteries of the past #criminal case the conspiracy #arthur wright #isaac bontemps #maddie o'malley #richard wells #viola pemberton #charles dupont #evie holloway #rose zhao #diego del lobo #headcanons #ask

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itshype · 9 months ago

Text

Reverse Amnesia AU

(aka "Everyone lies except - for once - The Sheriff.) Sharing this old wyler prompt from Valentine's Day 2023 written with a few people but mostly @nonamemanga:

Wednesday pushes Donovan Galpin out of the way of Laurel's car after Laurel killed the coroner (before she actually runs Mayor Walker over), saving the Sheriff's life. The moment she pushes him, she gets a vision of Xavier calling her toxic in episode eight, so she then fails to get out of the way herself, and the car slams into her head-on.

Wednesday's a little woozy due to her head hitting the asphalt, but ultimately she's alright; just bumps and bruises. However, she's just disoriented enough that Donovan manages to bundle her into the police cruiser and rush her to the local hospital with the lights on. The siren does not help her headache from her profusely bleeding head wound. The Sheriff thinks she's seriously hurt and is totally panicking.

At the hospital, Donovan is brimming with guilt as he waits to hear from the doctors. He already felt kind of bad for arresting her and her whole family, and now she was seriously injured saving his life. Once he's allowed to, he approaches her in her hospital bed, hat in hands and he's nearly crying as he tells her:

"Wednesday, I know we've had our differences, but thank you, and if there's anything you need…"

And Wednesday panics, she can't deal with him trying to get his emotions all over her, so she immediately yells out, "I don't know you!!" in the hopes that a doctor will escort the 'strange man' out of her room. No one hears her but Donovan immediately assumes her head wound is worse than anyone thought and calls for nurses. Wednesday decides to run with this. She can pretend to have amnesia for a few hours and then once everyone is calmed down and she's not at risk of being cried on she can miraculously recover. The perfect plan.

Weems shows up (the hospital called her, Donovan forgot because he behaves like a lunatic in times of stress) and immediately begins fussing. Weems has the whackest priorities but doesn't actually wish her students any harm and there is a head wound. Wednesday reinforces her amnesiac defence so that Weems will stop trying to touch and comfort her.

Meanwhile, Tyler has received the following texts from his dad:

wEDnESdAy !!!

hospital

These texts are based on real ones I have received.

When he shows up at the hospital just to see what's going on, and hears what happened, it instantly twigs for him that: his master tried to murder his father, and that Wednesday is now about to be a real target because she actually stopped Laurel from doing something she wanted (I do not think there's any way Laurel told Tyler her whole Crackstone plan. He's a goon-puppet, not her equal) so Tyler doesn't know she will be kept alive for a while.

Tyler thinks he needs to stick around Wednesday now to protect her and that she has amnesia. So, he launches into a long lie about them secretly dating for "weeks now, really." so that he can stay until the nurses kick them out.

Wednesday is gobsmacked and a little suspicious that her ultra-vanilla not-boyfriend is lying about this, and that he's so good at it both Weems and Donovan are eating out of his hand. It's impressive. While Tyler coos about wishing she'd waited for him so he could have safely driven her home she plans to continue faking her amnesia until she figures out why Tyler would lie about them being together.

They've been there for a few hours when they get the call that Wednesday's parents won't drive down to visit because Morticia knows that Wednesday is fine, lying about the amnesia and only got hit because of a vision, not the epileptic fit that Donovan described to the doctors. Wednesday demands to go back to school, this hospital gown is blue, goddamn it. Wednesday knows her mother probably had a vision about the truth of what happened but everyone is heartbroken on Wednesday's behalf.

Enid, when Wednesday finally returns to her dorm with Tyler in tow and he explains about the amnesia, also decides to put a spin on their relationship. Declaring that they're best friends and "Of course I knew about the secret relationship!" she insists, while manically typing a blog post with one hand, "I'd never betray your trust and tell other people before you were ready, and when I planned your birthday party I definitely remembered to invite him, and not just other students you never hang out with! Sorry you don't remember but I did a good job!" She glares at Tyler when Wednesday looks away but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth as Enid is backing him up.

Wednesday is baffled.

Crack option: When asked by Enid about the car accident Wednesday says she "saw Xavier, and then the car hit her" in a purposefully misleading reference to the vision she had. Rumours of him pushing her never totally go away.

#reverse amnesia au #wyler #netflix's wednesday #wednesday #wednesday addams #tysday #mine

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randomnameless · 10 months ago

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So because of Leopold's support and the shadow assassinations by the Agarthans and Humbert , it would be irrealistic to have a civil war happen early on (as in it start during the first year of the war) despite how Edelgard's extended lmanifesto (not just the church part) screw over the nobility while at the same time screwing the church that, unlike the nobles, the civilians of Adrestia seem to somewhat give a shit about?

At least if the intent when writing a fanfic is to respect the lore/world building of Canon?

We don't see enough Adrestian civilians to even know what they think about, we heard about "missing" church people in Adrestia, but nothing about the commoners - we only hear in passing iirc Ashe talking about starvation because of the war, but idk if he's talking in general or about Adrestia.

Ferdie'n'Lysithea's paralogue tells us the randoms in Hrym and being bled dry under Ludwig's name (when he's actually framed by Thales!), and even if the game tries to avoid this topic like the plague, I still wonder where all those "war assets" are coming from, especially since the "people working" on those projects didn't hesitate a second to use Adrestians as guinea pigs (iirc Remire is in Adrestia!).

So Hubert's secret police + starvation + whatever is happening thanks to Agarthans riling people up like what happens in Hrym + Leopold being in charge of the army (that is made up of people from other places than just, Bergliez) + Hubert being Hubert, aka willingly take people hostage or threaten them to make their families comply + Supreme Leader (I mean Hubert) jailing/rekting "corrupt" nobles in the first days of her ascension to the throne...

Nopes apparently says Enbarr's people are pretty happy about the war, because they're revanchists and are hell removed from the frontlines - but what about the rest of Adrestia?

I once compared the coronation scene in CF to a coup (because Billy and Supreme Leader are accompanied by soldiers) but it would sort of match, Supreme Leader gets total control of the army through Bergliez's lust of power/conquest, control over the finances because Linhardt's dad is just like that I guess, Hubert oversees everything and, at least in FE16, Arundel still sides with her.

Aegir was neutralised, Vestra Sr was put in a trashcan, and Varley is either reduced to a puppet or to House arrest.

There are no powers left to oppose her in Adrestia, and if commoners somehow managed to rebel, they would have to deal with their very own national army, secret police and random Agarthans... on top of finding enough food to eat to survive while the ressources are given to the frontlines.

But in a way, everything I'm just saying bar the canon facts of :

having Leopold and the Army + Waldemar and the money

Hubert doing Hubert things

opposing big name nobles being swiftly deposed/neutralised just after her coronation (or before in Nopes!)

food shortages

FE16 wise : Agarthans taxing randoms to death/ Nopes : Agarthans killing people randomly

FWIW, AG where we learn a bit more about Adrestia, and how, apparently, Agarthans and bandits (?) are slaughtering randoms there, but the nobles are too concerned by the Kingdom's assault to protect their people, and would rather see them die than divert troops to, just, have the bandits/agarthans stop creating rivers of blood with the bloods of the people they're supposed to protect.

Everything else is headcanon/AUs/fanfic/however you want to call it.

So bar those points... Adrestia just exists and it's a damn shame, because even Begion managed to get its pseudo civil war between Sanaki and the Senate where commoners/people supported one over the other, but in Adrestia? Bar the BE peeps and a few dads, you have the feeling no one else exists.

FWIW, in the non CF routes, the opera company joins Billy's army iirc, so maybe they're not loyalists? And represent some people who aren't that gung-ho about the war?

i have that random headcanon that in Nopes, Manu and Mittelfrank are used for spying stuff, and actually, through Yuri and Manu herself, give intel about what happens in Enbarr to the CoS while the opera workers try to sabotage as much as they can some stuff in the Imperial Army... but that's just an AU lol

#maelor321 #replies #FE16 #3 nopes #Adrestia stuff #tfw the only nobles we see on Adrestia's side in SB are the ones who completely bought Supreme Leader's rehtoric #thus want to show their merit by uh #doing things that rank up merit during a war where you invade people i guess #I'd just have liked one map or a battalion of Adrestian rebels who join either the CoS or the Kingdom/Alliance because they do not approve #hell maybe if you recruited Ferdie instead of joining you there's a paralogue not in SS where you have to help him as he is #idk... maybe destroying a war asset camp/facility #and the Imperial Army found him out and has order to eliminate him and he must be saved by Billy + Lord ?#anything really #i have at least 3 AUs with Adrestian rebellions lol #from fake pretenders to the throne to zombies #and the Manu résistance network lol

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nerdanel01 · 6 months ago

Note

What do you think Emmrich would be like in a modern AU?

I actually HAVE a thought about this (albeit briefly) and I just feel like he’d still be very death obsessed. But like, more in a lead-county-coroner than funeral director kind of way. I can definitely see him getting inappropriately excited while explaining to the police the extremely messed up ways that some of the bodies in his fridge ‘expired,’ to use the polite euphemism.

Otherwise, much the same: scholarly, kind, immaculately dressed and clean, proclivity for jewelry, etc.

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kaiaden · 9 months ago

Text

Ninjago Au

Use this au if you want! Plz read my rules!

rules:

NO PROSHIPS PLZ like ew no thank u not in my au

please give credits and lmk what website u post your works on whether it’s art or writing, so that I can check it out

You may not change anything set in stone, if it says that a certain rank is in the hierarchy, then you can’t move it up or down, and you can’t remove it, or when I explain what Cyrus Borg does or what rank he rose from, you may not change anything written abt it, you may only add to it

Pg. 1 World building:

Hierarchy- (high to low)

Upper class-

Royals

Scientists

The rich

HighLanders

Bounty hunters

Middle class-

Wall builders

Builders

Workers

Teachers

Factory workers

Third class-

Low income families

Servants/maids

The experimented

Slaves

Have no rank/are the lowest of the low-

Elemental Masters

Pg. 2 Upper Class:

The Royals:

Not really involved with politics all that much, no one really knows them besides fellow upper class people when the Royals hold formal balls or coronations.

Scientists:

It is honestly a name to call the cruelest of the human race. They typically work with the experiments and the Elemental Masters (see page 4) everyone knows what they do and everyone with a bit of empathy strays away from them, and the scientists take great pride in both that and their work. Typically asocial people who lack basic empathy. The job market is typically free and easy, however, only 1 in 10000 people actually take up an offer.

The Rich:

The name says it all, these people own lots of money, typically old money. Very few people actually rise to this position, but those who do are praised for their hard work, one such person being Cyrus Borg, (see page 7) who rose to fame and fortune with his genius innovations.

HighLanders:

Don’t let the name confuse you, the HighLanders are not people who are high on land. These people are some of the most dangerous people. Typically, this group of people include gangs, mafia leaders and members, assassins working for other upper class groups, and the police force (see page 7)

Bounty Hunters:

As their name says, they are people who often go and collect bounties, and some are privately and illegally hired by scientists to ‘collect’ Elemental Masters (see page 5) in order to illegally be tested. They are highly respected since they are often in ties with the rich, unless they are new and have no experience.

Pg. 3 Middle Class:

Wall Builders-

These people are a step above Builders (see section below Wall Builders) they created, fixed and maintained the Wall (see page 8) They are decent people who are the highest in their class, they live near the wall (see page 8) where they can be close to their jobs, unfortunately this occupation has the highest fatality rate.

Builders-

This group of people are essentially Wall Builders (see section above Builders) except they build homes and buildings. They also have a decently high fatality rate.

Workers-

These are people who have average jobs, they afford their homes, have a decent financial stability, the average joes of the hierarchy.

Teachers-

These are people who teach anyone, whether it is in schools or in a dojo teaching martial arts.

Factory Workers-

These people, as their name suggests, work in factories. They are responsible for the production of goods and utilities. Often times they borderline low income, and have the 3rd highest fatality rate due to lack of funds, budget cuts, and safety violations that aren’t properly managed.

Pg. 4 Third Class:

Low Income Families-

These people are typically borderlining homeless, but also have a very tight budget as 90% of them either make or make less than minimum wage. They often find themselves seeking better jobs, but most of them will fail due to lack of experience for hiring companies. Their best bet is aiming for factory jobs, but due to the harsh work environment, only the most desperate workers will end up in the factories.

Servants/Maids-

They typically work in the homes of the Royals, Scientists, and the rich (see page 2). They serve for work, but they have it easier than lower class families (see section above servants/maids) because they mostly live rent free in their bosses homes, and they get paid a bit better, however, they are looked down upon by a certain amount of people in the Third Class due to working directly for the Upper Class (see page 2)

The Experimented:

These people are some of the most unfortunate. Mainly people who have signed contracts or have been pushed to the lowest, and are subjected to be tested and experimented on by the Scientists (see page 2). Life is horrible and they get paid half of the average minimum wage.

Slaves-

This rank was deemed illegal, however, some upper class people still practice this, and the living conditions are the worst among the rest of the Third Class.

Pg. 5 No Ranks/Low Lives:

Elemental Masters-

Unfortunately for the elemental masters, they are subjected to the most abuse, as they aren’t seen in the best of light due to their powers. They are often kidnapped at young ages and subjected to the Scientists (see page 2). Their kidnapping reports go unbothered and kidnapping reports aren’t even filed if at all. They live in horrible conditions and are often forced into unfair work conditions.

Pg. 6 The Kingdom:

Cities-

Ninjago City

Stixx

Stixx-

The smaller of the two cities consist mainly of the Middle and Third Classes, and barely any Upper Class citizens. Many factories reside here, and fishing companies have taken over the sea side, and the whole south and east sides of the cities are outlined by the oceanfront.

Ninjago City-

Consists of all classes, it is the largest city by a landslide, containing a whopping 900,000+ population. This is where the rich end up since there are many opportunities in the city.

The Countryside-

This area consists of many different types of villages. Mostly consists of the Third Class, and farming is a main source of income for them. Scientists and Bounty Hunters often linger in search of Elemental Masters in hiding, or more potential experiments.

Pg. 7 Influential People

The Emperor:

The main leader of Ninjago, not really involved with the kingdom, the Royals never have been and everything has no order, besides the obvious hierarchy.

The Empress:

Known to be married to the Emperor (see section above The Empress). Also not really involved with the kingdom. All that is known about her is her birthday, April 15th, and that she is infertile, unable to produce heirs.

The Jade Princess:

Surprisingly she was adopted from the Third Class, she is a former low income citizen (see page 4). Only two pictures are public, however, they are about 8 years old.

Cyrus Borg:

Known for being a former low income citizen (see page 4), due to his genius innovations and inventions, he helped upgrade all of Ninjago seemingly overnight. He is a very found and generous man m, and is known to donate and distribute money to the less fortunate.

The Police Force:

No one truly trusts them, as the whole force is formed from corruption. Upper Class citizens often have people on the inside in high positions.

The First Family:

Most people believe they are a myth, only people who believe in them are mainly the elderly, but this family is known to have begun humanity, as the head of the family was known as the First Spinjitzu Master, who created the realm. Not much is known, only that he had two sons, but even this is debated among many, even the believers.

Pg. 8 The Wall

The Wall-

No one truly knows the reason for the wall, many conspiracy theorists believe that monsters lurk beyond it, but all anyone knows is that anyone who went over, either never came back, or were found to have been mangled and mutilated beyond recognition.

ENJOY MY OCEAN WAVES

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #ninjago dragons rising #lego ninjago #ninjago fandom #ninjago au #Au #kingdom au

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