#Young Wallander | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muddyorbsblr · 10 months

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reckless girl pt2

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @holdmytesseract

Summary: Magnus, along with the rest of the station, launches into an all-hands investigation to find you, desperately hoping that he's not too late

Pairing: Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood; sad bb Magnus hours; kidnapping; restrains (not the fun kind); non-consensual touching (not our bb Magnus he would never); more physical injuries; gun mentions and use; mention of painkillers (morphine) [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship

There were only ever a handful of times in Magnus' career so far where he felt he couldn't stomach a crime scene. Those few occasions involving the most gruesome of acts that a human being could have ever been subjected to.

However, despite how comparatively routine the scene looked when he arrived at your apartment, he found himself clutching his stomach, feet unable to move, upon laying eyes at the blood on the floor. Your furniture was all askew, signs of a struggle littered all over the now crime scene.

It was all he could do not to burst into tears when officers were placing crime scene tape over your front door.

Kurt clapped a hand down on his shoulder, trying to steady him. "Magnus, you sure you don't want to sit this one out? You're in no shape to work this case, this is your--"

"I have to find her, Kurt," he cut the senior detective off, doing his best to steel himself. "I have to know she's alright. Make sure she's safe again. She--" He choked on his own words, the lump in his throat making it near impossible to speak. "She's my whole world, I need her back."

Wallander sighed, knowing too well the feeling of helplessness that your boyfriend felt in every bone in his body at the moment. That he couldn't just do nothing and wait on a bunch of people that didn't care for you the way that he did to find you. "Very well, then. But you're not stepping foot in that scene. For your own sanity."

"Understood." He didn't want to be inside your apartment in the state it was in, either. That place was more a home to him than his own place; it felt so wrong having to process it like it was just another day at work. "I'll question her sister, see what she knows."

"The man that Y/N put in the hospital. The pick-up artist. Start there. If we know more about the people in the group he's in, it might give us a lead to where she coulda been taken."

Magnus blinked back his tears and made his way to your sister Stella, her eyes wide as saucers with worry and shock as she saw the detective. "I was really hoping we'd be meeting under happier circumstances. My sister speaks quite highly of you, I've never seen her so in love."

"We're going to find her," he said, trying to reassure himself as much as her. "What can you tell me about the man she fought two nights ago?"

She scrunched her face in an eerily similar way that you did whenever you were confused or trying to recall something. "Really not much to say about him, just a regular looking fella, but one of the guys he was with…he kept on talking about his father having connections and how he's gonna 'avenge his mate for what Y/N did to him'."

"Can you describe this friend of his?"

"I'll do you one better." She tapped away at her phone before handing it over to him, showing him a photo. "This is him. Marcus Ferguson. Menace to society touting around Daddy's money and power."

Magnus' blood ran cold. They'd been after Ferguson for the better part of a year, a prime suspect in the kidnapping and trafficking of women and girls from as young as 13. The heart-wrenching part was that they could never get their hands on the smoking gun that would put him away for good, and the victims that they'd managed to rescue were too afraid of retaliation from him and his family that they'd never bring themselves to testify.

And now he had you.

The details that Stella gave him led him to the restaurant you two were at the evening before last, and the owner more than happily volunteered the security footage from the time you two were in there and Ferguson's friend got into the altercation with you. He watched with a mix of fury and pride seeing how you held your own and ultimately brought the sleazy excuse for a human being down on the ground coughing and bleeding, curled into a ball.

Then Ferguson hung around close enough to the patrol car as you were getting arrested that he got your full name, and then he made a call, saying something to his friend before he was brought to the hospital to be treated. The words he mouthed on screen had the detective's pulse thundering in his ears, panic flooding his system.

"I'll have her by tomorrow night. She'll pay for what she did to you."

He was restless as he showed the station the footage from the restaurant, Kurt giving him the floor to address his fellow detectives and officers. "This is enough cause to believe that Y/N Y/L/N is in grave danger. We know what Ferguson is capable of. We know the damage he deals to his victims, and that's only the ones that we've found. It is imperative that we find her as soon as possible. Alive." His voice broke at the last word, the possibility of finding you anything other than that crushing him into pieces.

"Alright everyone, put all your cases on hold, this takes top priority," Wallander addressed the station. "I want eyes on Marcus Ferguson, someone find him and bring him in for questioning. We also know that his father Jeffrey owns over a dozen warehouses all throughout Ystad, more than enough for his so-called philanthropic efforts. Someone look into them, starting with the ones near the coast. Call them up, and tell me which ones don't answer the call. Get an officer to pay those warehouses a visit. Find Miss Y/L/N. Bring her back here alive. You have your orders."

It didn't take long before a more junior detective spoke up. "I have something. One of the warehouses didn't pick up the phone, and their registration documents show that they should be active and have a receptionist during office hours. And it's a five minute drive from there to Sandskog."

That was enough to get Magnus out of his seat and gearing up. He double checked to see that the magazine of his pistol was fully loaded.

"I'm coming to get you, sweetheart. Hold on for me," he whispered, hoping more than anything that when he wouldn't be bringing you out of the warehouse in a gurney and not a body bag.

The last thing you remembered was reaching to pick up a knife from your kitchen counter, hearing the distinct sound of another person breathing, along with another heartbeat, from within your apartment. You lived alone, and Stella was still at her hotel when you got off the phone with her just a few minutes ago. Right as you stepped into your apartment.

Then a rag went over your mouth, and a smell akin to ultra-concentrated alcohol flooded your nose. And everything went black.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you noticed was that you couldn't move. Your hands were bound behind your back with something twining and abrasive. Rope. You weren't gagged or blindfolded. Your legs were immobile as well, each ankle roped to a chair leg. "What the--"

"Oh goody you're awake," a male voice filled the vast space you were held in. It looked like a warehouse, fairly maintained but empty. The faint sound of waves outside told you that wherever you were, there was a beach nearby. "You're a strong one, aren't ya, little bitch? First you put one of my best mates out of commission for who the fuck knows how long, and then you put one helluva shiner on me."

Your kidnapper approached you and grabbed the bottom of your face, nails digging into your cheeks deep enough you could feel the skin breaking. It also gave you a good enough view of who had taken you hostage.

"You're Ferguson's boy, the brat," you spat at him. "Never had to work a day in his life. Spends his time being a nuisance to womankind."

"I prefer the term gift, poppet." Your stomach lurched at the name. "You're lucky that pretty lil face o' yers is enough to make me consider delaying killing you. Craig went for the wrong 'un--"

"Craig, huh?" you cut him off. "So that's the name of the wanker with the weak ass swing. Tell me, Little Ferguson, do you surround yourself with weak little boys to make yourself seem stronger? Make you seem more like a man?"

That seemed to have struck a nerve. Typical. "I'll show you a man, you little cocktease," he snarled at you, panic flooding your system when you felt his hand on your inner thigh, thick and inelegant fingers creeping higher. "Maybe I'll ruin you before killin' you…"

You squirmed in your seat, trying to throw him off as best you could, your efforts falling short from the rope binding you to the chair. He only snickered in response, his hand traveling up higher which made you throw your head back and butt him on the face as hard as you could.

He stumbled back and landed on his bum with a faint smack, groaning as he held his nose. A fleeting relief washed over you knowing at least you got him to stop from touching you.

That relief, however, was short lived, the entitled bratty excuse for a man stomping over to a golf bag by the exit and picking up a golf club, a heavy one from how he groaned and whined as he tried to lift it above his head, like he was practicing. "You fucking bitch, I just had that fixed!" he bawled, now stomping over to you.

"Please, from where I'm sitting it's an improvement," you sneered. "Gives you some much needed character."

He pointed his club at you. "You're on borrowed time."

"Well hey, do me a favor and run the timer down already because if I have to spend one more agonizing second lookin' at your ugly mug--Agh!"

Your words finally sent his fragile ego off the edge, swinging the golf club back to strike you across your forehead and making everything go black.

The last thing you remembered was the sound of the heavy door to the warehouse being slid open. A commotion.

Gunshots.

And then a voice. Probably the most angelic voice you'd ever hear in your life.

Magnus.

When Magnus and the rest of his team arrived outside the warehouse, Kurt had to physically hold the younger detective back from storming into the place without cause.

"She's in there, Kurt!" he shouted, his desperation ramping up with each passing second.

"And if you barge in there with your badge and your gun without any probable cause the next time she'll see you will be on the other side of a glass divider during visiting hours," Wallander tried to reason with him. "We don't have Jeffrey Ferguson's permission to search the area, we need a reason before we can--"

The loud smack of metal against something followed by a woman's howl of pain sounded out from the warehouse, launching Magnus into action once more. "There's my reason."

When they threw the door open he could feel his heart drop to the ground at sight before him. You on the ground, a new massive gash on your forehead with a bump the size of a golf ball on the same spot. Marcus Ferguson with golf club in his hand, raised above his head ready to strike again. Before he could lay another hand on you, Magnus raised his weapon and shot three times, the booming sound from his gun almost felt loud enough to shake the empty warehouse.

He didn't bother watching Ferguson go down to the ground, rushing over to you instead to work on freeing you from your restraints, his stomach lurching at the sight of the rope digging in and reddening your skin. "Sweetheart," he choked, taking out a pocket knife and cutting through the thick ropes.

"Mags…?" you mumbled as he cut you out of your restraints, trying to be as gentle as he could manage with you as he eased the rope away from your skin.

"I'm here, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe now." You instantly relaxed into his hold when he cradled you against his him, refusing to let you go until the paramedics got to you and loaded you onto the gurney. "I've got you."

You struggled to open your eyes when you felt yourself being laid down on a rather thin cushion, the sound of squeaking wheels and words that echoed your own arrest the other day filling your ears. You were wheeled into an ambulance, and you sighed in relief when your blurry vision caught sight of a head of blond curls.

"Mags," you breathed out, fingers twitching toward him. "Sorry I didn't show--" you said through slurred speech before he took your hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to your fingers.

"Shh don't you worry about that even for a second, darling," he spoke into your skin. "All I care about is that you're alive." You felt your skin get wet with hot tears as he kept kissing your hand. "I nearly lost you today."

"Still here," you mumbled, doing your best to squeeze back at his massive hand. "Not getting rid of me that easy, Martinsson."

Before you slipped back into unconsciousness, you heard him tell you, "I never want to be rid of you, my precious reckless girl. I love you so much."

The next time you opened your eyes, there was as rhythmic beeping coming from your side, your wounds had been cleaned, and Magnus was by your side. Hand wrapped around yours, slouched over on an uncomfortable chair, with his cheek resting on the mattress.

You tried to reach over, and run your hands through his curls to gently rouse him awake, but your other arm had a rather thick line in it administering what you could only guess was a pretty effective painkiller considering you weren't feeling the effects of the younger Ferguson's blows that much. You opted instead to squeeze his hand, your boyfriend letting out a tiny groan before looking up, his ocean blue eyes meeting yours and his free hand reaching up to stroke your hair.

"I'm going to need you to promise me something, sweetheart," he mumbled, trying to give you a reassuring smile despite the puffiness in his eyes.

"I'll promise you just about anything as long as you don't let them take away the painkillers."

"Promise me you'll try not to get into any fights until you have a license to carry a gun. I don't think danger will ever stop finding you, but at least I can make sure you're better equipped -- legally equipped -- to handle the next fucker that tries to harm you." He leaned over and looked at your face carefully before pressing the lightest kiss to a part of your face that wasn't cut or bruised. "Promise me, Y/N."

"I promise, Mags," you mumbled, your speech quite slurred. "What happened to Ferguson?"

"Intensive care," he answered, his jaw clenching before releasing his next sentiment. "Wish I'd gone for the head."

"No you don't," you shot back. "Too much paperwork."

He let out a hoarse laugh, his voice scratchy with the telltale sign of yelling and sobbing. "I'll make sure he spends the rest of his life behind bars for what he did to you."

"Hmph…self-proclaimed pretty boy like him surrounded by lonely men who haven't known the touch of a lover," you thought out loud, letting out a mirthless laugh before you echoed your assailant's words to you at the warehouse. "Maybe they'll ruin him before they kill him."

"Careful there," a voice spoke from the door way. Kurt. "Sounds like something he and his troop of deviants would say."

"Something he did say," you confirmed, wincing at the memory. "Right before he reached for the club."

"I'll kill him," Magnus seethed, his fury radiating off of him. "Kurt, please tell me we finally have enough to nail him. And his pathetic posse."

"We might," the older detective nodded. "But we need someone willing to testify against him--"

"I will," you volunteered, not taking another second to mull it over. "I'll testify. From how he talked I'm sure there'll be more just waiting to come outta the wood works. If what I have to say can give them the strength to want to speak up, perhaps we'll have the upper hand. No matter how much he tries to get out with Daddy's money."

Wallander gave you a singular nod. "You're a brave one, Y/N Y/L/N. Got the blood of a fighter, you do." He pointed a finger at Magnus. "You got yourself one of the good ones. Don't screw it up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered back, thumb stroking gently across the back of your hand. "It better not come as a surprise to you that I'll want to take some time off. See to Y/N's recovery and all."

"I'd have twisted your arm myself if you didn't." He left the room, giving the nurse a curt nod as they passed each other.

"The doctor should be by in a little bit to check on you, Mrs. Martinsson," she informed you, giving you a warm smile.

Before you could protest from the name she'd called you, Magnus spoke up with a simple sentiment. "Thank you, Nurse." When she walked away, he looked at you with a sheepish expression in his eyes. "I might have fibbed a tiny bit so they'd let me stay in the room with you."

Your thoughts began to swirl more as the lightheadedness you felt from the painkillers mixed with how your heart swelled at his confession. "My gorgeous angel-faced golden retriever baby," you mumbled, making him give you a much wider smile. "Never took you for such a bad boy," you teased him. "What a pair we make…" You adjusted yourself in your bed, shuffling as far off to the side without disturbing the line in your arm and motioning your head to the empty space.

"What're you…?"

"Hop up, Mags," you tried to order him with a sleepy chuckle. "That's no way to sleep, and also I want my husband to hold me."

He climbed on to the bed, holding you gently as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sleep, sweet reckless girl," he whispered, finally feeling like he could breathe easier now that he had you safe in his arms.

"Y/N Martinsson," you mumbled with a yawn, snuggling against his chest, so sleepy you didn't hear how his heart began to sprint in his chest. "I quite like the sound of that."

Magnus found it near impossible to breathe, his mind immediately bombarded with a vision of you in a myriad of white dresses, walking down the aisle to him. Exchanging vows. Becoming his wife. "Careful, sweetheart. Any more talk like that and I'll go to the jeweler's the second you're discharged." He struggled to keep his tone light, doing his best not to wake you up.

"Hmph, don't," you grumbled. "Too expensive."

"What?" he breathed out, in complete disbelief at what he was hearing. "You would marry--No. Not right now. We'll talk about this when they take you off the morphine, darling."

"No need," you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. "I'd marry you tomorrow with a ring pop and a jukebox at the hospital chapel, Magnus Martinsson."

Your breathing evened out after that, leaving your boyfriend to process what you'd said all alone. He looked at your sleeping face, shakily pressing another kiss to the top of your head. "When you've fully recovered from this nightmare that monster subjected you to today, I'll make it real," he whispered into your hair, hoping that you'd hear him through your sleep. "I quite like the sound of Y/N Martinsson, too."

A/N: *insert fanfare sound effect here* That's another request done! And these two blorbos are safe and sound in their little bubble where no one's gonna fuck with them anymore 🥹💖 Now on to the next and lemme just tell y'all now…it's angsty and it's 3 parts and we're headed back to our stabby mischievous babey 👀

But before we get there…I might have something for y'all in the next few days involving Centrum Ad Hiddles…

In the words of Scooby Doo…ruh roh…😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Magnus taglist: @vbecker10

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson x female reader #magnus martinsson imagine #wallander fanfiction #wallander #wallander fanfic #muddyorbs writes #fic requests #500 follower celebration

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holdmytesseract · 2 years

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Congrats on 1k!

My favourite line would be from For Evigt by Volbeat: happiness, I'm sorry you've been on hold . I would love Tom Hiddleston himself, please and thank you, you gem 💕

a/n: Thank you so much for requesting and especially your kind words! 🥰 I hope you like what I wrote! 🧡 I chose a very young Tom for this, but we talked about this. 😉

Warnings: mutual pining? fluff

Word Count: 1058

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbs @kimanne723 @simping-for-marvel @coldnique

Lyric-Drabble-Mania Masterlist

Based on this song:

The Long Way 'Round

"You are kidding me, right?" Emma literally snorted out, as she sat across from you at the small table in the cosy coffee shop in London. It was a very rainy day today. Big grey clouds were hanging in the sky of London - typically British weather. That was one reason why you agreed to meet up with your friend Emma - sister of your schoolgirl crush, and now, uh, adulthood and actor crush, Tom. The other reason was, that you hadn't seen her in ages and today, the both of you had finally time to meet up.

You shook your head, scratching the back of your neck nervously. "No, I'm not." The blonde, young woman shook her head; clearly in disbelief. "Y/N... I just can't believe it... For how many years are you drooling over my brother now, huh? Since when do you have a crush on him?" "Uh... Since, uh, since college..." "Exactly!" Emma exclaimed, throwing her hands helplessly in the air. "You went to college together. You went to university together; spent so much time together - and not just in school... You did 'Unrelated' together - and are now about to do 'Wallander' together! Hence, Y/N, you two are obviously head over heels into each other! Everybody can see this - except you and Tom..." You felt your cheeks redden at her words. Emma wasn't wrong. You were head over heels into Tom - for years now. But you never gotten any signals from Tom, that you were more for him than just his best friend... Shrugging helplessly your shoulders, you replied: "H-He never gave me any signs... How should I know?" Emma looked at you, dumbfounded, blinking. "He didn't give you any signs? Sweetie, he gave you so many signs, I lost counting!" "W-What? What are you talking about?" Emma blinked again. "Seriously?! Did you never notice how he looks at you? Or how he always tries to be close to you? Gods, he's so nervous around you from time to time as well and he already introduced you to our whole family! His hand is always close to you and he smiles and laughs so much more! Y/N, if that isn't love, I don't know what it is..." You just stared at Emma for a moment, letting her words sink in. Nobody else had told you that before, but now that she had said it out loud, everything was suddenly making sense. Several scenes and pictures played out in your mind; your brain showing you the 'evidences' like a movie in a cinema. She was right... Emma was so right... Suddenly you saw everything clear now. How could you be so blind? "E-Emma, I..." You stammered; your brain overwhelmed by the sudden realisation. "Y-You are right, I... Gods, I was so blind..." The blonde woman nodded, giggling victoriously. "You were, yep... But don't worry, Tom is blind, too." Just as you wanted to answer her, you heard the significant ringtone, coming from your mobile - which told you Tom was trying to call you.

Emma seemed to notice, that you blushed even further, causing her to count one and one together. "Answer him!" She urged you, nudging your side. You did, accepted the call. "Tommy?" "Hi, darling." The Brit's charming, happy voice sounded through the speaker. "I just wanted to ask, if our date with the cinema still stands?" Your eyes widened. Shit, you forgot about it. "Um, yes, of course, sure!" "Great. I'll pick you up in an hour, alright?" "That's perfect, thank you." "Great! I'm looking forward to it. Bye!" "Me too, bye!" You hung up again, facing Emma again. "The cinema date?" "Uh.Huh. He picks me up in an hour, so, uh, I guess I should leave now. Is it okay for you if I-" Your friend didn't even let you finish your sentence. "Of course, go! And don't forget to finally tell him you love him!"

About one and a half hours later, you and Tom sat in the cinema, watching 'Journey to the Centre of the Earth'. It wasn't a super scary movie, but a few scenes caused you to flinch and reaching instinctively for Tom's hand. You pulled your hand away again, of course, but at some point, you just forgot to pull away. It felt so right, was so soothing and comfortable, that your hand stayed in his until the credits of the movie rolled. Only then did you notice your 'faux-pas'...

"O-Oh, Tom, I'm sorry!" You stammered, trying to retreat your hand from his hand. But Tom didn't let you, just gripped on tighter. He loved the feeling of your hand in his. "I-I just forgot about it a-and needed something to hold on and-" You tried to quickly and hastily explain - but got shut up by Tom's lips suddenly crashing into yours. It was something you definitely didn't see coming. It was quite a bit out of the blue. Before your brain was able to catch up and your mouth ready to kiss back, Tom pulled back again; now clearly embarrassed and sad that you seemingly didn't have the same feelings for him. "I-I, uh, I'm so sorry, darling! I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, because, I-I just took a chance, thinking that you probably are-" This time, you decided to just cut him off and lean over to kiss him, taking now Tom by surprise. The curly haired man's eyebrows shot up, shock, but also relief painted all over his face. He didn't hesitate, kissed you back and pulled you closer while cupping your cheeks in his hands.

Panting and out of breath from the long overdue kiss you shared, you smiled at Tom - and Tom was giving you a toothy grin in return. "Why did we do that only now, Y/N? Gods, we wasted so many years..." You huffed, knowing that he was right. "Yeah... Sadly this is true. We pretty much took the long way 'round, eh?" You said, taking both his hands into yours, not bothering the leaving people around you and him. Tom was beaming by now, his baby blue eyes shining. "Happiness, I'm sorry you've been on hold - but not anymore." You had to giggle at Tom's almost poetic words, before you nodded, "Not anymore..." and leaned in to kiss him again.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fanfiction

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aceofwhump · 10 months

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I'm sorry for the rant but I'm so fucking sick of Netflix for letting me get invested shows and then cancelling them after just one or two seasons for no good reason. I'm a saddo with no life so I get attached to these characters and will fixate over them months because they bring me a bit joy, comfort and escapism 😭. It's so fucking annoying and then they go and make another show and once again I get invested and it gets cancelled and it's the same vicious cycle over and over. Urghhh fuck them

ME!!! TOO!!!!

I'm so beyond DONE with Netflix! I'm tired of them canceling everything after only one or two seasons FOR NO GOOD REASON! And you can never tell which shows will be renewed or cancelled because they've cancelled so many uber popular shows so who knows what the hell their metrics are!

I'm done with Netflix. I'm not going to start any new show they put out until it's done because there is NO point in getting into new shows because they're just going to be cancelled. I'll continue the ones I'm already watching like Sandman, Bridgerton, and Witcher but I'm done with new shows. The only new things I'd watch on there now are ones that are only going to be one series shows like Fall of the House of Usher.

Fuck Netflix so much!

Sense8, Cursed, Julie and the Phantoms, Shadow and Bone, Young Wallander, Lockwood & Co., Uncoupled, One Day At A Time, Spinning Out, The Irregulars, The Babysitters Club, Archive 81, Raising Dion, Fate The Winx Saga, The Imperfects, The Midnight Club, The Bastard Son and the Devil Himself...

I CAN GO ON FOREVER!!! I WILL NEVER BE OVER THESE CANCELLATIONS!!!!

Yet they continue to renew garbage series. I fucking hate Netflix

#fuck netflix #mod replies #ask

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whumpingale · 1 year

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Young Wallander s01e01 [extra gif]

#young wallander #kurt wallander #whump #whumpedit #stabbed #collapse #blood #whump gif #my gifs

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liminalpebble · 1 year

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Sex and Death: Chapter 10, Covers and Protectors

Masterlist link

Minors DNI

Chapter 10: Covers and Protectors

Noura stood over the boardroom table once again in the Ystad Station. Along with the rest of the team, she stared down at a new coded letter from the killer with a cold feeling of fear and dread lodged in her stomach. The pages were laid out like rectangular tiles in their plastic forensic sheathing, remind the young academic uncomfortably of body bags. The bulky envelop had arrived that morning, and the lab had immediately descended upon it for any trace of clues.

She sighed, fiddling with the thick band of her turtleneck. (Thanks to Magnus she had to dig for one in the back of the closet that morning, realizing the number of sanguine mementos he'd left on her skin). It was amazing to her; the contrast between the cocky passionate filthy lover who had fucked her senseless (to her utter satisfaction) and the sweet mild-mannered gentleman he also was now. When he'd noticed the livid marks in the shower, he'd softly and sheepishly exclaimed, “Oh darling! I'm so sorry!” and blushed. She assured Magnus it was perfectly fine, but still teased him about how her scrambling to find a way to cover the evidence had made them a few minutes late. Mentally, she found herself thanking a god she didn't believe in that it was winter so no one would question a bulky garment.

And now she was glad for the extra layer of warmth against the cold dread of another imminent murder. This was the killer's pattern; taunting them with letters, sent more and more frequently over several days, culminating in a new murder or missing person.

Wallander cleared his throat and then addressed Noura, gently enough to surprise the other detectives after Harik's outburst during their last meeting. Aside from Magnus, no one else would have realized that the dust had settled. “Harik...Martinsson, what do we have here? First impressions.”

Noura came closer turning the laid out pages carefully in gloved hands. Her mind felt sluggish and tired as she fought for some clarity. “Well...the code seems to be similarly constructed to the others...a style of cryptogram. I don't think it will take me too long to decode it. It has the same symbols in the margins (swastikas, etc.) just like the others...so Neo-Nazi affiliation of some sort...but we already knew that,” she sighed, annoyed with herself for the lack of help she was being. Then something caught her eye. “Huh...on this set there are some new symbols and motifs...ones generally used more exclusively by a subset of younger, online extremist. Self-described 'incels' and 'men's rights activists' in addition to being neo-nazis. Although there are certainly older groups with the same ideology, these images have been used almost exclusively by a small subset of young men online, between the ages of 20 and...What was the statistic from the program, Magnus?”

He shook himself out of the reverie of listening to her to respond. “Oh...the program indicates men between the ages of 18-30 for these...and these.”

“Good...good,” Wallander mumbled and nodded, making a conscious effort to be kinder to the two. “Let's start there. Svendsen, let's take a look at local recidivists in that age group...call in any stand outs.”

Magnus cleared his throat then raised his voice to speak. He loathed doing this, knowing Noura was about to be furious with him, but he wouldn't let it go. He rushed to spit it out as everyone was just turning to leave. “One...one more thing, Kurt.”

“Yes?”

“Yesterday there was evidence of someone snooping around Harik's building...someone who couldn't get inside. The same person then went on to harass a Syrian couple who run the grocery down the street.”

Wallander scowled with concern, “Harik...why didn't you tell me about this?”

Noura could feel her face and neck turning red and hot beneath the high neck of her sweater. She spoke up as clearly and forcefully as she could. “That's one theory, Kurt...going on nothing but footprints in the snow and one customer saying some asshole thing under his breath. It could be absolutely nothing. That kind of thing happens all the time in that neighborhood. This is just the first time a cop was there to notice it.

Her onyx eyes seemed suddenly hard and lethal as they stared daggers into Magnus.

Kurt rose his voice slightly, “It could be nothing, but it could very much be something, Noura. I...” Wallander scanned the room, realizing they were all still surrounded by the others in the meeting. He mumbled, “Okay...everyone you have your tasks. Please have at it and leave us the room, if you'd be so kind.”

They shuffled out, happy to escape the tension which had settled over the room like suffocating smoke. Noura still stared at Magnus, arms crossed, while his eyes fixed to the floor.

“Noura, I know you want to play this off as nothing...It might be nothing, but we simply don't know and we have to be careful.”

“Spare me, both of you! Does it matter more now because I'm someone you know?” she spat. “I wish your superiors would have shown this level of interest and diligence at the beginning, then maybe we wouldn't be in this shit storm of a situation now.” She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. “I'm...I'm sorry. That wasn't fair to either of you. I know you weren't in charge of that.” She said, looking more kindly to both of them as Magnus dared to raise his eyes to her, looking a bit like a kicked puppy.

She turned to Martinsson, “Did you have to announce it in front of the whole team, Magnus?”

He inhaled, bracing himself, “Yes...yes I did.” He looked to Wallander for affirmation, and received it in a nod. “We all need all the information we have. They might see something we've missed.”

She lowered her eyes. He was right but she'd be damned if she let him know it.

Kurt chimed in, “He's right, Noura. It doesn't feel right to me either. I have a hunch about it that I don't like.”

She looked back and forth to both of them, “What? What is this, some detective cop shit the poor little academic wouldn't understand? A hunch isn't evidence...and a badge and a gun doesn't make either of you smarter than me.” She knew she was being defensive now. It was a sore spot with her; never wanting to be treated like a damsel in distress, never wanting to be dependent, protected, or rescued. Although her time with Magnus as a house guest had been heavenly, she still chafed at the idea of why he was there. But, at the end of the day, she wasn't a cop. She didn't know how to protect herself in the way she would need to and she had to admit it.

Kurt chuckled and said quietly, “Noura, I know for a fact that I am not smarter than you...either of you, actually. I know it's hard to swallow...needing protection. I struggle with it too. I'm asking you, from one stubborn person to another, to accept some help.”

Martinsson blinked in disbelief at the admission, as if slapped across the face.

Harik considered this and nodded, pulling herself reluctantly back to her normal, logical self. “I can admit when I'm bested...and I am,” she said very deliberately, looking with a tired smile to them both, “this is over my head. I commend the effectiveness of your tactic on me, Wallander.” They all chuckled with the faintest relief.

Kurt asked, “How are things there now? How is the couple.”

Magnus spoke up. “I left them a card...told them to call the station or me anytime, even if it might be a false alarm.”

“Good. But I want to send a security detail to them as well...unmarked cars though. And Harik's building?”

“The front door requires a key, but it's just a glass entry way to the lobby. Not particularly secure. I didn't get a chance to check the fire escapes. No security guard or system on site. The shop doesn't have them either.”

Wallander looked to Noura regretfully. She said, “I'm not going to like what you're about to say, am I?”

“No...I'm afraid not. While you're on the case...while the killer knows who you are since you've been interviewed in news and we know he's following it, I don't want to take any chances. Martinsson, escort her back home at the end of the day. Harik, you're going to pack a bag for a few days. Do you have friends or family outside of that neighborhood to stay with...a boyfriend...someone like that? Someone who could also drive you, ideally?”

“No...nothing like that. I'm alone.” she said, a little too quickly, but if Kurt noticed he didn't say. Magnus knew she had to say it, but it still stung.

“Come back here when you have what you need. I know it's not the most comfortable situation but there's a small suit here in the station for those of us who have to stay over sometimes. You're going to have to be there a little while.”

“For how lon...!?”

The superior put up a hand. “I know...I know. Please, do this for me. As a favor to an old man who is worried about you. I don't want you staying there.”

Noura agreed and thanked them curtly, then left the room, without another word.

----

Magnus heard the tap of her laptop closing, as she packed up for the day. He had been listening for it, itching for the time when they would be in the car together and alone...and hopefully able to talk. For her part, Noura wanted to stay mad at the junior detective. She had remained cold and professional all day. In fact, they actually got quite a lot done. Both staying angry at him and being productive seemed like miracles, considering every other minute she would be visited by the intrusive memory of him naked and fucked-out on her kitchen floor, her wet red panties held between his teeth as he smiled triumphantly. What a shame. I liked that pair. Worth it, though. She thought.

Shaking off the thought for the hundredth time that day, she crossed the room to him. “Ready?” she ask in a blank tone.

He smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Yes, all set.”

He opened the door for her as she swung out. Goddammit, who does charming shit like that anymore? She thought.

They walked silently to his car, but as soon as they settled in, and the doors shut he turned to her, rambling, “Noura...I'm so sorry, but I had to. I was too worried, and I had a bad hunch, just like Kurt and I just couldn't stand the idea of...”

He trailed off as her eyes met his and he watched them soften at the care in his voice. The oceanic blue of his eyes began to mist over. He didn't notice it until he felt his breath catch in his throat like sharp pebbles. Both of them were caught off-guard by the depth of his reaction, knowing the unspoken end of the sentence.

I just couldn't stand the idea of losing you.

I just couldn't stand the idea of you being hurt or killed.

I just couldn't stand not protecting you.

She reached out for his hand, squeezing his broad palm tightly. “I know,” she gently whispered. “It's okay, Magnus.”

“It is? We're okay.” He sniffed, tightening his grip as if frightened she might slip away.

“Yeah.” She smiled bitter-sweetly, pulling him in for a tight hug, kissing his warm forehead and nuzzling into his mess of curls. He exhaled a sigh of relief as she said, “Yeah, golden boy, we're okay.”

@peacefulpianist @peaches1958 @icytrickster17 @sired-to-hybrid @mjsthrillernp @acidcasualties @loz-3 @annoyingsweetsstranger @alexakeyloveloki @marcotheflychair @muddyorbs @smolvenger @sweetsigyn @goblingirlsarah @lovelysizzlingbluebird

#magnus martinsson #magnus martinson fanfic #wallander #wallander fanfic

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thoughtfulaviator · 11 months

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Hey guys just so you know I’ve read a bit about Kurt and Mona’s relationship in the books and it’s absolutely devastating in a mundane every day grey inevitably loneliness kind of way

#ellise chappell #young wallander #young wallander killer's shadow #henning mankell #kurt wallander #adam palsson

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set-phasers-to-whump · 2 years

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everything hurts and i'm dying

prompt: head trauma

whumpee: kurt wallander

fandom: young wallander

hi what's up my besties! hope you enjoy my first young wallander fic in a hot minute. can't believe i still haven't finished the second season lmao. so goes it though.

Kurt opens a squeaky door which leads to a small closet that smells of cleaning supplies. He flicks a switch on the wall and looks around. Nothing unusual. Nothing that suggests the illegal dealings of the owner of this club, which he and Reza have been sent to uncover.

He’s about to turn and head back out to the main part of the club when something on one of the shelves catches his eye. He steps a bit closer to get a better look and the door opens behind him.

Before he even has time to turn around and see who it is, a hand on his back is shoving him forwards, right towards a large metal shelving unit.

His head smacks into the hard edge of one of the shelves with enough force to make him see stars. He can feel the skin of his forehead split. Blood immediately begins pouring down his face, dripping past his eyes and streaking down his cheeks.

He takes a few steps towards a wall that has no shelves protruding from it and leans up against it. The different angle he has on the room shows him that whoever had shoved him is already gone. He should chase them. Instead he begins sliding to the floor, and then he just sits there.

His head hurts. The cut stings, like any cut, but beneath it is a throbbing pain that speaks to this injury being more than just surface level. He should get someone, maybe. Reza is still in the club somewhere. Maybe he’s caught whoever had been in here. Kurt thinks this is highly unlikely, but you never know. Things happen. Though maybe that optimism is just the head injury talking.

He gets to his feet. Standing makes him lightheaded and dizzy. Blood continues dripping down his face. He should probably do something about that, but he already has a goal. Find Reza.

Reza proves to be a hard man to find. The music in the club, which had been almost completely muffled in the storage closet, is thumping and loud and makes his head hurt far worse than standing up had done. Not to mention the flashing lights, which are also not doing him any favors.

A couple of people try to stop him as he clumsily wades through the crowd. He doesn’t want to guess how bad he looks right now. Quite probably he looks like someone out of a horror movie, if the amount of blood he can feel on his skin is anything to go by. He pushes determinedly past everyone, eyes hunting for one person only.

After an eternity of searching, he finds Reza outside, checking his phone.

“Hey,” Kurt says. His voice sounds slightly weak. He wants to sit down.

Reza looks up and his eyes go wide. “Holy shit, what happened?”

“That bad?”

“You’re covered in blood, man.”

“Hit my head.”

“Shit, come on, sit down.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. For the second time tonight, he sinks to the ground against a wall. Reza crouches in front of him and lightly prods at his forehead.

“What did you hit?”

“A metal shelf.”

Reza hisses through his teeth. “How bad is it?”

Kurt shrugs. “It probably looks worse than it is. I’m just sort of dizzy.”

“And the blood loss isn’t helping. Hold on, give me a second.”

Reza goes back into the club. Kurt closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall and tries to ignore the loud noises coming from behind it.

When he opens his eyes, Reza is back. He’s digging through a small plastic box with a red cross on it. Eventually he pulls out a few cotton pads, a small bottle of what Kurt assumes is rubbing alcohol, and a battered box of bandages.

“Once I clean you up, we’re going to an emergency room. Can’t be too careful with head injuries.”

“Rez, I’m alright.”

“Have you seen your face?”

He has to admit he hasn’t.

“If you knew what you looked like, you might change your mind. Now hold still.”

Reza soaks a cotton pad in the alcohol and then begins dabbing at Kurt’s forehead. It stings and it’s cold. Kurt winces and unconsciously tries to pull away.

“Hey, I said hold still.”

He stops moving. Reza continues with the alcohol, pressing the pad into the most painful spot on Kurt’s head, which he assumes is the source of the bleeding.

Reza stays like this for quite some time before eventually pulling the cotton away. He looks closely at Kurt and then nods. “Bleeding’s stopped,” he announces, and presses a bandage to Kurt’s forehead.

Kurt assumes this is the end. But Reza unwraps another cotton pad and soaks it in alcohol, too. Before he can ask whether he’s bleeding from somewhere else, Reza has started again. He’s cleaning off the blood that had dripped down Kurt’s face, he realizes. From how long it takes Reza, there must be a lot of it. Indeed, Reza goes through three cotton pads before he nods and tells Kurt that he no longer looks like an extra from a slasher movie.

“Now,” Reza continues, standing up and reaching a hand down. “Emergency room. No arguing.”

“Fine.” Kurt takes the proffered hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. The return to verticality again makes his head spin, and he leans against the wall to fight it off.

Meanwhile, Reza ducks back inside to return the first-aid kit, and then they’re off. Reza puts an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, which Kurt doesn’t need, but appreciates nonetheless.

They make it back to their car without incident. Kurt has rarely been so glad to sit down.

As they settle in for the drive to the emergency room, Reza’s favorite radio station playing in the background, Reza turns to him and asks, “so, did you trip and fall, or what?”

“Someone pushed me. I don’t know who. They were gone by the time I looked.”

“Shit. I’ll call it in.”

“There’s no point. Whoever it was is long gone by now. Besides, if it’s important, we’ll find them again.”

Reza sighs but doesn’t argue. “Alright, Kurt. Your choice.”

They lapse into a rather companionable silence after that. Kurt tries to focus on the quiet music instead of the pounding in his head. Eventually it occurs to him that he should offer his thanks.

“Thanks. For…this.” He gestures to his head and then to the car, to indicate the ride to the emergency room.

Reza shoots him a quick look as he pulls to a stop at a red light.

“Of course, man. You know I’ve always got you.”

And he does.

thanks for reading! this probably isn't edited the best bc i just got back from a function and am still slightly drunk (it is 7:25 pm) so yeah. but i hope you liked it!

#whumptober2022 #no.8 #head trauma #young wallander #kurt wallander #fic #head injury #blood #my writing #i say things #i had such a good day today fr fr and it isn't even over #something to be said for starting to drink at like 3 pm....

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