#police x detective

[fandomnerd9602]

Hi, could you do an Alexis castle x male reader? the reader is a junior detective and is Ryan's younger brother he meets Alexis after she saved his life from her and they fall in love

Okay so maybe tracking down a dangerous criminal wasn't exactly the best move a young junior detective like myself could've made. But hey when my nose catches a whiff of a case, I (Y/N)(L/N) am on the case.

The case didn't go over well. The criminal's goon sent me flying onto a pool table and next thing I knew this rookie cop burst through the door and saved my hide. Explosive charges she used to breach the door sent the shrapnel flying but all I saw was her perfect features.

Beautiful red hair, perfect blue eyes which hid a steely gaze and a soul window that I knew I had to get through to. She was absolutely stunning. Perfect precision aiming, a steely resolve. I knew that this was the girl for me.

After every mob member and enforcer was either arrested or being hauled off on a gurney to the emergency room, she walked up to me. She offered a hand to hoist me up.

"Are you okay?" her angelic voice asked me.

"I am now." I found myself stuttering. Strange. I don't normally stutter.

"Well detective it appears you were in the wrong place"

"But it was the right time. (Y/N)"

"Alexis Castle. Wanna go grab a coffee?"

How could I say no?

[raskolnikovslawyer]

sorry to be on this again but the fact that after the timeskip it’s been like 2 decades and rust looks like shit and is drinking ten beers a day and marty’s hairline has receded further than his career and he’s got a beer belly. they just don’t make old man yaoi like this anymore

[eetherealgoddess]

i’ve been getting some requests on wattpad so i thought i should finally write one of them <3

reader operates as both a cop and detective btw

ꨄEdge Of The Lawꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’re a detective who has spent years trying to take down Bonten❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Edge Of The Law

It had been years since you hopped on the case regarding the infamous criminal organization Bonten. Having put in an exceeding amount of work in tracking their illegal endeavors as well as the individuals who cause the gang activities to soar. So far the only information you have been able to obtain was that you have a few traitor cops in your vicinity, one who very well may be the chief.

Unfortunately, the only proof you’ve received was during a personal outing of your own. You sat on a stool in the dimmed bar, a low melody playing in the background from the speakers connected to the ceiling. Only a few people were scattered around the room, sitting in their own booths or a couple stools down from you, sipping on their drinks as they talked amongst themselves. Your bartender had just finished your drink, sliding it over as you immediately downed the beverage.

“Damn, tough day?” The woman chuckled, continuing to make the other customers’ drinks as she conversed with you.

“You could say that.” You motion for another as you remember the frustrating discovery of all the paperwork you had on the case completely missing, nowhere to be found. You could only determine that it was an inside man’s job, a dirty cop who knew exactly where to find the confidential information.

After downing four shots while conversing with the bartender, you walk towards the bathroom. After releasing your fluid and washing your hands, you stepped out of the bathroom, perking up when you noticed a familiar individual who just exited the male’s bathroom. Although he wore casual clothing, you could tell he was your chief, having worked under the guy for years.

You follow him from afar, dropping some cash on the bar table as you make your way outside. You stood at the corner of the building, staring ahead as you peaked around the wall into the alleyway. You crouch as you make a run for the dumpster, basically prancing on your tiptoes so he wouldn’t catch you there. You kneel on the dirty ground, peaking out to watch him.

The chief stood in front of a tall man wearing a suit. You couldn’t hear anything but slight chatter, both parties standing too far for you to hear the conversation so you took a moment to view the suspect in front of your boss. One of his hands moved to swipe through his hair, fingers entangling with short purple strands. His purple irises gaze ahead lazily as his expression remains blank. What stood out to you the most was that symbol on his neck, prominent and black.

“That symbol…” You murmured to yourself before taking your phone out of your pocket and snapping a few pictures of the two men, one a close up of the broad male.

You sat at the desk in your room, searching through your drawers and folders of different forms and pictures you had kept. You weren’t allowed to have some of the papers in your personal home, though there were key points in some of the cases you were assigned that stuck out to you, resulting in off duty research.

Grabbing a familiar folder labeled, ‘Mark of the Prey,’ a dramatic name you so boringly created for the information inside. You snatch it open, searching through until you make an abrupt halt. Pulling the page out, you placed it next to your phone that displayed a close up of the man who spoke to the chief.

“Knew it.” You huff as you compare the symbol of Bonten to the tattoo embedded on the guy’s neck. Although this discovery confirms your suspicion, you have no clue why your chief would be in cahoots with the organization other than the fact that he’s working with them. Unfortunately, you don’t have enough proof.

The following days, you had decided to figure out a way to look through your boss’s office for any clues regarding his partnership. The first thing you want to come across if nothing else is your original paperwork that you kept hidden in a specific drawer. The only person who would’ve known the correct placement was your boss. You knew you had to wait for the perfect opportunity so you patiently waited for the right moment to sneak into his office.

It was hard, but you finally found the perfect time during a lunch break to search. You had no idea when he’d be back so you quickly searched through file after file. You were careful to place everything back in place to not raise suspicion. You sigh in frustration when you’re not finding the target, standing up from your place only to make eye contact with your chief.

He stepped in slowly, shutting the door behind him as he made his way closer to his desk. Still keeping his distance you both stare at one another in silence. Considering you’ve been caught, you decide not to waste any time.

“You’re working for Bonten, aren’t you?”

The middle aged man continued to stare at you before placing his hands in his pockets.

“There was a reason I dropped you from the case, Y/n.” You recall the utter pit in your stomach the moment you were dropped from the case, having spent a lot of time and effort finding all the evidence you could.

“Where is the paperwork?” You give him a stern glare. He sighed before shaking his head.

“You never stop, do ya? You wanna die or something?” He growled, a look of irritation crossing on his face, “I spared your life by dropping you, otherwise you’d be next on their list.”

“Do you realize what you’ve just done? Do you understand the gravity of what you’re doing? Partnering with the enemy? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Your palms slam on the desk as you lean slightly forward, anger and a sense of betrayal overcoming you.

“You have no right to question my decisions! I do what I have to do to survive. You should be thanking me!” He roared, stepping forward. “They’ve had their eyes on you ever since you started that case! They know what you look like, where you live, where you come from, and more!”

An abrupt siren echoed throughout the building, indicating a warning. The same sound you were taught when there’s been an ambush. Shocked, you immediately snatch the gun from your holster, as did your chief right before you both stretched your arms out to aim the weapons toward each other.

“Saved my life to take it right?” You yell over the alarm, standing at attention.

“This isn’t how I wanted this shit to go! You just couldn’t stop shoving your nose where it didn’t belong!”

“You assigned me to the case! What else was I supposed to do other than my job? You make no sense!”

“I didn’t expect you to find some of the things you did! For what it’s worth, you were my favorite officer!”

Just as he cocked the gun, you gasp when a figure appears from behind him. The sound of a shot rang out, the bullet penetrating your boss in the head, a hole formed as blood splattered on the floor and his uniform. The chief falls to the ground, landing on his body. You move to aim at the culprit, pulling the trigger multiple times as he dodges the bullets.

The sound of glass shattered behind you as another person kicked through the window. You turn to the side to keep both people within your vision, backing up until your back is barely touching the wall. Your gun is aimed at the man with two blonde strands hanging over his face, the rest of his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, revealing the tiger tattoo embedded into the skin of his neck. His left hand holds a gun aimed towards you, arm stretched out as a smile grows on his face.

The man who killed your boss stood next to him, his right arm held out as the barrel of the weapon was in your view. His bangs fell over the purple eyes that held a sense of familiarity, strands of hair falling into a mullet. Your eyes widened when you saw the tattoo on his neck, the same symbol you had seen on the man before who looks slightly similar to the person in front of you. He wears a bored expression.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Kazutora dodged the bullet coming his way by moving his head to the side, the metal only grazing his cheek. A small line of blood slides down from the small scratch.

“Who put you in charge, huh?” Before you can shoot him again, another shot rings out followed by a sharp pain shooting through your thigh.

“Fuck!” You hissed before looking down to where the blood seeps through your uniform as you place your trembling hand above the wound.

“You have shit aim.” Rin says to you before aiming at your shin resulting in you shifting out of the way before the bullet can land.

Another shot rang out as Kazutora pulled the trigger, missing as you rushed behind the desk, landing on your bottom. You set the gun down before pulling off your uniform jacket and pull the fabric with your teeth, tearing the sleeve. You wrapped it around your thigh quickly before snatching the gun.

You knew this wouldn’t end well for you. All you could do was survive the best you could. Before you could turn to shoot, a foot kicked the gun out of your hand before two hands grabbed the shoulders of your shirt, yanking you up. Suddenly a fist connects with your face before your vision is engulfed with darkness.

“The surveillance has been disposed of.”

Your eyelids flutter open as you come back to consciousness. The pain on your neck is prominent from your head hanging over while you were knocked out. A soreness appears on your check as you remember the fist impacting your face, knowing a bruise will probably form. You eye your thigh with a hazy vision, the blur of the blood that seeped through the fabric wrapped around your thigh, the throbbing pain still prominent. You accidentally release a groan as you pull at the cuffs, your arms secured behind the chair’s back uncomfortably.

“Good.”

You lift your head slowly, eyeing the figures that stood at a distance from you.

“You’ve been such a pain.” You hear from the shortest man standing in the middle. His onyx orbs bore into you intensely, despite the lack of expression. His platinum hair shapes the structure of his face.

“Sanzu.”

The pink haired man lifts an arm as he aims the gun towards you, cocking the weapon before pulling the trigger. The shot rang throughout the building just as the bullet penetrated your shin on the opposite leg of the wound on your thigh.

“Shit!” You spit out, breathing slowly as you attempt to tune the pain out, failing as the agony grows by the second. Your hands are in fists as your nails leave indents on your palms.

The blue eyed man’s scars stretched as the grin on his face grew. Excitement is apparent in his expression, the sound of your ragged breathing a beautiful melody to his ears.

“You will work for me in place of your boss.”

“Fuck you.” You growl as you feel your blood fall down your leg.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time. You are my secret weapon. Your skills give you an advantage that will be to my use.” You scoff.

“I’m not doing shit!” You exclaim.

“S/n and B/n. They are your siblings right?” Mikey questioned, hands behind his back. Your eyes widened as you glared at him.

“M/n, D/n, and F/n.” He takes a few steps towards you, revealing the darkness under his eyes.

He continued to name off colleagues, friends, family members, and even the bartender you’ve become close to. You gasp when he begins to list off the addresses in which your family members reside.

“That’s enough!” You hissed.

“Show some respect in the presence of the King, Rat.” Sanzu growled before aiming his gun towards you. Mikey holds up a palm, the executive obeying his command.

“You will do as I say.” He said before turning around and heading to the exit, all of the men following behind. You’re left in darkness once the door to the warehouse shuts.

Days pass while you rot in the warehouse, blood already dried from the wounds that may or may not get infected. The pain, although prominent, has slightly numbed. Your whole body is sore. You had thought everything through, deciding that you have no choice in the matter but to go against your morals. You had to protect your family. You only just now understand why your chief did what he did.

After your placement in Bonten was secured, once you received medical attention by their personal doctors, you were sent back to your detective job as an undercover criminal. Before you know it, months pass as you become used to your routine, something you didn’t want to happen. Of course, there was no enjoyment in feeling dirty or like a coward. Everytime your shift at the department closed, you would return to headquarters where you were forced to reside considering their lack of trust for you. You would inform your boss of anything he needed to know or an update on any assignment you were commanded to complete.

There were moments when you thought of different escape plans or to set them up, but one of the executives always had an eye on you. You knew you were being watched every moment you were at work or even around headquarters. It had you on edge and walking on eggshells. You truly felt helpless but you didn’t stop trying to think of something.

You’ve never been the type to be a seductress. Sure you’ve worn sexy clothes a couple of times and had a fair share of dates before you started working as a cop, but you’ve never actively seduced anyone before. Considering your predicament and no better idea, you decide to work on your skills. You visited the Haitani Brother’s strip clubs more often since a few of the men would go on outings and those were the only times you were allowed somewhere other than the department.

You observed the behavior of the strippers and waitresses. You even studied the bartenders and the customers. You watched the interactions carefully. You knew that if you played your cards right, you could gain a little more trust. Enough trust to help them slip up and for you to make an escape and notify witness protection before they can go after your family. You will gain as much evidence as you possibly can to ruin them once and for all.

Weeks pass and you’re seated on a chair in the VIP section of one of the brother’s nightclubs. The thick smell of marijuana, tobacco, and alcohol fills the air. You eye the first victim who sits on the sofa with a blunt in hand, black and blonde hair falling past his shoulders as he leans back in his seat. He blows the smoke out slowly with a dazed look, the woman who was sitting on his lap hopping up after he pats her thigh, telling her to grab him a drink. You take a deep breath, eyeing the other men to see the rest of them distracted, whether they’re entertaining a woman, gambling, or sniffing cocaine.

You exhale before making your way to Kazutora, sitting next to him, though not too close. Your hands begin to tremble as you stare ahead, second guessing your plan as you’re ready to run off. Before you could leave, a hand guides your chin, forcing you to look into the golden orbs that shine through the dark light beams.

“What’s on your mind, Doll?” He questions before releasing your chin and handing you the blunt. Before you became a police officer, you would smoke weed in your youth. Having not had it in a long time, you shake your head.

“T’s not a request. Smoke it.” He says with a heavy lidded gaze and a sly smile. You huff before taking it from his fingers, the wood placed between your index and middle finger as you place the end to your lips.

You immediately cough after sucking in a little more than you could handle, no longer having the lungs for this kind of thing. He laughed as your vision blurred from the tears, a burning sensation filling your throat as you handed it back to him.

Once you are done, you realize that you are higher than you expected to be.

“Oh shit.” You whisper as you stare into space.

“Here, let me help you.” You heard from beside you. Fingers grab your chin once more, turning you towards the man who takes a long hit of the blunt before turning to you and leaning in very close.

“Open your mouth.” You comply as he leaned in closer, the tips of your lips barely grazing the other as he slowly released the cloud into your mouth, his gaze still on you. After breathing in, the weight of your body felt heavier as you became in a more relaxed state. You leaned back against the sofa as you gazed into the room with your own heavy lidded gaze. The plan you had escaped your mind as you zoned into the colorful flashing lights.

“Someone’s in another world.” Ran said as he sat next to you on the other side. His leg pressed firmly against yours as he placed a hand on your healed thigh. You could smell his cologne as well as the tobacco lingering faintly. It was a nice fresh yet earthy scent.

“You smell good.” You say, not bothering to be shocked that your thoughts escaped your lips without any control, something that used to happen all the time when you got high.

“Thanks, sweet girl.” His smile grows as he observes your flushed face, gazing into your features before chuckling and grabbing the glass cup from the table.

You had no clue why you said that. You’ve never been anything but professional around these men. The hand gripping your thigh caused you to look down.

“Hey, what about me?” Kazutora gives a fake look of offense before handing Ran the blunt, causing you to snicker.

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Now you are.” He says before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you to his chest. Your nose was nuzzled in between his shoulder and neck, the smell of marijuana thick along with the faint smell of cologne.

He hummed before circling both arms around your waist and pulling you closer, your leg forced on the other side of him as he yanked you on top of him, your hands landing on his shoulders. You gasp in surprise, the bulge prominent against your core as your pencil skirt rises slightly.

“Oh?” Ran says before taking a hit as his eyes drop to your skirt.

“I like this position better.” Kazutora smirks as he gazes into your eyes. “Isn’t this what you wanted anyway, Y/n?” You couldn’t focus on anything but what’s pressed against your pussy, your face heating up as your nerves begin to strike. The memories of your plans begin to fly across your brain though you only just now realized how terrible a seduction plan would be. You must’ve forgotten you were dealing with some of the most feral men.

“Let me go.” You say as his grip only tightens causing you to wince in pain.

“You wanted to seduce us right?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You thought no one would notice your wandering eyes or suspicious behavior?”

“You really are so easy to figure out. It was noticeable when you first changed your clothing.” Ran says with his leg crossed and back leaned against the sofa, bringing the blunt to his lips once more.

“I have to admit, it worked.” Kazutora says while raising his hips, his erection rubbing against your panties as his hands moved to your ass. You gasp when you feel one of his hands pull your skirt all the way up to your waist, revealing your underwear.

“Feel that? You have me all worked up.” A smack on your ass caused you to flinch. “It’s all your fault.”

“Damn.” He whispered as he looked down at your covered pussy sitting on his bulge, hands rubbing up your sides before he shoves his fingers into the crevices where your stomach and thighs meet. You try to pick yourself up, only to feel something against the back of your head.

“I wanna play too.” Sanzu says behind you, gun pressed firmly against your head as you feel his hand rub along your butt cheek, gripping it before smacking the skin.

“Let me go right now.” You grit your teeth, nails piercing Kazutora’s shoulder as you tremble slightly. This isn’t what you had in mind when you planned to seduce them. Not only was it meant to be an individual thing, you weren’t expecting it to go as far as anything too physically intimate. How stupid you were.

“You should relax, yeah?” Rin says as he walks into view behind the sofa, leaning on the back of the surface with his hands as he gazes at you. He hands Sanzu the cuffs, the pink haired man pulling your arms behind your back and securing you in place. Kazutora kept his eyes on you the entire time, even when you looked away.

You felt Sanzu’s hand slide under your ass, rubbing along your panties as he glides against the slit of your vagina through the fabric, not a care for Kazutora’s bulge being in vicinity.

Tears threaten to spill as you angrily look at Kazutora, who brings a hand behind your neck before pulling you closer to his face, pressing his tongue to your neck as he rubs it along the skin. Rin leans over with a hand on your chin.

“If you bite me, I’ll bite harder.” He warned you before pulling you into a kiss. Kazutora moves from your neck before focusing on your breasts through your blouse. You gasp against Rin’s lips though he took the opportunity to pierce his tongue through your lips. He quietly moaned as he moved his free hand to the side of your face, fingers tickling your ear.

“You’re so wet, filthy girl.” Sanzu said quietly before using a finger to scoop some of the juice before bringing it to his lips, sucking the moisture off his finger before returning his hand to your pussy. He used one hand to move the panties out of the way and replace his hand, using a finger to ease into your vagina. He put the gun back in his holster as he distracted himself with the feeling of your vaginal walls sucking his finger in.

Rin released you, only for Ran to wrap a hand around your head and pull you in for a passionate kiss. You wince as he bites your lip, pulling on it as he pulls back before releasing, only to reconnect your lips together. Sanzu shoves two more fingers in as he stretches you out, causing a muffled yelp to leave your mouth.

Rin unbuckled his pants before reaching into his underwear to pull out his pulsating cock. Ran’s lips muffled the moans that escaped as Sanzu thrust his fingers deep into you at a steady pace. He cursed as he felt your hole tightening around his limbs. Kazutora unbuttoned your blouse to release your breasts that are covered by the bra. Not wasting any time, he reached into his pocket for the pocket knife, using it to slice your straps as well as the middle lining that keeps the pads connected. He pulled the remainder of the bra off and tossed it to the side.

His fingers grabbed your molds as he used his thumbs to fiddle with both nipples. You shut your eyes tight as he kept up the motion with one breast and leaned over to connect his tongue with the other. Ran releases you as he begins to unbuckle his own pants, just as Rin placed his palm on the top of your head before placing his cock near your mouth.

“Open up, pretty girl. I better not feel any teeth.” You turn your head away.

“N-No! Let me go, all of you!”

“Wonder how your family would feel to know that you’re getting fingered by one of their murderers right before I shoot their brains out.” Sanzu says softly against your ear, dazed by his own arousal. You frown as you clench your teeth from Kazutora’s tongue flicking your nipple, as well as Sanzu accelerating his pace.

“Come on, Y/n.” Rin says as he guides your head, you had no choice but to open your mouth. He exhaled as he eased the tip of his cock between your lips, warmth engulfing him as he gained a better grip on your head to pull you forward until the base of his erection was against your nose.

You shut your eyes as he held you there, forcing you to gag on his cock. A mixture of drool and precum slides down your chin as you breathe through your nose to the best of your ability. Sanzu removes his fingers before moving your panties out the way of your behind. Your eyes shoot open when you feel a wet pressure push into your asshole. He used two fingers, the residue slick making an easier access though the tightness stretched painfully.

You whimper against Rin’s base before he pulls you back, only to force you to swallow his erection once more. His cock slides in and out of your mouth at a steady pace, each thrust resulting in the head sinking down your throat. More saliva piles up as well as his semen, leaking as your head is guided.

“You’re a natural.” He moaned, thrusting his hips harder against your mouth as Kazutora slid a hand down to your pussy, feeling for your clit before rubbing along circles with a finger.

Ran rubs his own cock as he eyes your mouth taking his brother, focusing on the bulge that appears on your cheek as he can see the indent of Rin’s cock. He watched as the juices leaked from your mouth, listening to the whimpers and grunts that left your throat.

Kazutora removes his hand before grabbing his own hard cock from his pants. It flapped on your stomach before he guided you to lift up enough for the head to connect with your entrance. He used a hand to rub the tip against your wet pussy, moaning at the warmth.

“Sit.” He demands, using a hand to place on your hip as well as his other hand wrapped around his shaft to aim it correctly. He gazed at your full mouth, finding the mess beautiful on your face.

“Fuck…” He hissed as you lowered onto him, warm walls already sucking him in. “…this is exactly where you belong. Sitting pretty on my cock.” His hips thrust into you as your pussy engulf him fully. The tears streamed from your face as Rin neared his orgasm. Kazutora’s arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you tightly against him, just as Sanzu added a third finger to your ass, ripping a ragged moan out of you.

Rin’s head falls back as he releases a moan, warm liquid shooting down your throat as he holds you in place, forcing you to swallow all of his seed. Once he pulls his cock out of your mouth, you cry out as Sanzu accelerates his speed, just as Kazutora begins thrusting into you. His cock slides as his feet push against the floor, legs spread as he begins to pound into you. Your juices slicken him up, allowing him better access as the tip of his cock immediately hits your g-spot.

Just as your head was about to fall on his shoulder, a hand holds you in place as another erection slides into your sore mouth.

“Look at me.” Ran commands, you obey as your eyes tearfully move towards the intense gaze he holds. You could hear Kazutora moaning as Rin sat on the sofa, rubbing his cock while he watched you getting plowed from three ends. Ran thrusts his hips as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, groaning as he keeps his gaze on you.

“M’ gonna cum so deep in this pussy.” Kazutora moaned, pounding into you as he forced your hips to meet his thrusts. His lips are apart as he gazes at you taking Ran’s cock down your throat, just as Sanzu used one hand to grab your neck. Your pussy clenched as the stimulation on your cervix caused you to orgasm, bucking your hips as you groaned loudly on Ran’s cock.

“That’s right, baby. Good fucking girl.” Ran praised you for your orgasm, your face heated more than it already was as a funny feeling formed in your stomach. Sanzu removed his fingers right as Ran cums deep into your throat, holding you in place as his brother did. Kazutora continues to thrust into you, forcing you to ride him even while you’re overstimulated. Your head was only able to drop on Kazutora’s shoulder for a second before Sanzu replaced Ran and forced your head up.

“You’re not done, yet.” He smirked before shoving his cock down your sore throat. Your jaw felt sore as it was stretched once more. You whine on his cock at the pain as well as the overwhelming feeling in your abdomen. He begins at a faster pace than the Haitani brothers not allowing you to adjust before he’s fucking your face.

Kazutora continues to hump into you, his head falling back as he groans, releasing into you as deep as he could possibly go. He pressed firmly against you to make sure his semen fills you all the way up. Sanzu’s thrusts become sloppier as he moans, releasing a curse before he bucks his hips slowly, pressing his cock all the way to the back of your throat. He forced you to swallow his cum as he stared down at you.

For the rest of the night you were rotated between each man so they could have a turn with your pussy, all the while causing you to faint a couple of times as your body was completely used for their pleasure. You were out for a couple of days before the dreadful routine of you becoming their cum slut began. They were brutal, more brutal than the first night as they twisted you every which way. Sometimes Sanzu would use you as an experiment by drugging you up with different products you never thought you’d try, praying to not be drug tested any time soon at your job though you knew Bonten would find a way to handle the problem.

In the midst of those days, you had forgotten who you were before. The darkness shaped under your eyes, you lack an appetite, and your poor body is worn out. Everyday felt dark, cold, and empty. You were lying in your designated bedroom, staring at the ceiling until the door unlocked and someone walked in. You shut your eyes as the person got closer, hovering above you before they leaned over, warm breath on your ear.

“Did they break you, yet?” You recognized the whisper to be Mikey’s voice. Your eyes teared up as they streamed down your face, turning away in a fetal position as your boss climbed into the bed with you. His arm snaked around your waist as his face nuzzled on the back of your neck.

“Now you know how it feels.” His lips graze your skin as he speaks. “To feel and be nothing.”

“You are my broken doll to play with.”

One day, you had enough. You were going to leave if it’s the last thing you do. Even if it results in your death, you don’t care. You were done with this. One day you had snuck a bag of sleeping pills Sanzu kept in a specific area in his office. This night was perfect because they’re supposed to meet up for a deal beforehand so Mikey will be there as well. When you arrive at the club, instead of heading to the bathroom like you said, you head to the bar.

After telling the bartender who you’re with, he hands you the bottle with the tray of glasses. He didn’t seem to mind that you hadn’t been a waitress which is perfect. You look around your surroundings before placing the pills in the bottle. You leave everything on the table for the actual employee to take it up so they won’t get suspicious of your excuse for the bathroom.

Once you make it back, you sit on Mikey’s lap like he commanded you to. Your nerves were struck as you watched the woman enter. Excitement prominent as you watch her pour the bottle before handing each man their cup, including Mikey. You watch as all the men take their shots, downing them quickly as they continue their play. You peek down at Mikey’s hand, seeing that he hasn’t taken a sip which made you nervous.

Just as the men started dropping on the sofas or chairs, your hands trembled as Mikey’s arms tightened around your waist, drink still in hand.

“When they wake up, I’m going to let them do whatever they want to you.” Tears appear at the corner of your eyes as the familiar lump forms in your throat.

“I’m going to allow whatever I didn't accept before…” His head dropped to your shoulder as he continued, “…you can drink the alcohol so you can rest beforehand, or you can save it so you’ll be asleep while they tear you apart.”

You stare ahead with a troubled gaze. The trembling became violent as you felt the urge to jump away, ready to run for your life. You subconsciously eye the bruises and cuts along your skin as you bite your lip to quiet the sobs.

“No matter how many times they break you apart, I’ll always be there to put you back together because you belong to me.”

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

ゲーム本編では見れないけどデジタルアートブックに載ってるレインコート無しのハララの衣装が好き。

Although we can't see it in the game, I like Halara's outfit without the raincoat. (You can see it in the digital art book.)

おまけ/BONUS

Lines: Yakou: Hey, Halara... I know I said you could use it, but don't you think it's about time to give back the seat to your chief?

Halara: I don't think so.

Yakou: Ah... I see...

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Thinking about police Captain Price and Sergent Gaz who get the pretty new receptionist trapped between them.

Being bent over Price’s desk as you choke on his cock, your shirt and bra pulled down to expose your tits and your arms shaking with the effort of holding your self up for them as Price meanly fucks your throat, leaving you a mess of drool and tears and ruining any makeup you’d worn.

Then with Kyle behind you, holding you down by the waist with your skirt shoved up or your pants shoved down as he fucks your cunt fast and mean. He’s nearly as rough as Price in how he fucks you, but distinctively sweeter, hissing put praises and encouragements in contrast to Price’s degrading words over you letting them have you like this.

They’re both rough and fast, fucking you until they come and staying inside your, panting as they try to catch their breath and only pulling out when their cocks are fully soft inside of you.

But don’t worry, they’re not gonna leave you like that. Afterwards, it’ll all sweet praises and loving touches as Price picks you up and sits down on his desk chair, cradling your gently as he carefully maneuvers you to spread your legs and sit forward.

Kyle gets down on his knees in front of you, coping sweeting things about how good you’ve been for them before he latches his mouth around your clit and sucks hard.

Price laughs at the surprised squeal you let out, wrapping his arms around you and pinning your arms to your sides as you squirm and beg Kyle for more incoherently.

Kyle has a hand braced on the inside of each of your thighs, keeping the spread for him as Price speaks calmly into your ear.

“You didn’t think we’d let you go without returning the favor- hm, love?”

[threshasketch]

McQueen's not as savvy on the interdimensional meta trivia as Dooley, clearly.

[reineyday]

hc that when rosa and marius start dating, luke starts calling marius "mary" and when people ask why (is it short for marius? thats so cute!) luke is like, "nah it's cuz watson's wife is named mary." marius unironically loves this, and takes his role as rosa's wife very seriously.

[naffeclipse]

Syzygy in Dedication

Police Chief!Eclipse x Detective!Y/N (SFW)

“I believe you should be done for the day, Detective,” he says, voice low and gravelly from where it emits from his voicebox. The flash of his gaze is chastising. Not because of city funds, no. His reminder is a bit more personal. “I’m not. Not yet.” You take the folder of one such case—a gang shootout in a nightclub. The goons who weren’t with the two animatronic crime lords were left to breathe their last.

Word Count: ~7,000 Warnings: Guns, violence, blood, injury, possessive behavior, medical care, needles, anesthesia, death, and abduction.

A/N: This is an AU (of an AU heh) within the Sleuth Jesters universe, however, it's not required that you have read the previous installments. This was meant to be a drabble but became large enough that I felt it deserved its own place. This one-shot was super fun to write and quite a challenge as I tried to hit a sweet spot with Eclipse where he is, well, sweet, but recognizable as Eclipse from this universe, as well as the opposite for Sun and Moon. I hope you enjoy!

You are a detective and Eclipse is the police chief you work under. Duo mob bosses, Sun and Moon, run amok through the city with their gang while toying with their favorite detective. Needless to say, you're determined to put an end to their crimes, even if it does put you six feet under (which none of the animatronics will allow).

[brienneoftarth1989]

New Partner

Miranda Hilmarson x Fem Reader

Summary: You’re the new detective on the force and your new partner is none other than Miranda. You didn’t think you will get on with the bubbly constable but she proved herself to you

Warnings: Talk of dead bodies

Requests open

———————————

First day on the job in your new department. You have been working for the force for almost ten years but after an incident last year you had to move to a different division in a different city. It was tough knowing you had to do this. You were leaving all your friends and family behind but you needed to do this for your safety and theirs.

You had managed to bag a nice little apartment by the coast. A lot of the other detectives and constables seemed to live here as well which was quite nice to know.

You were currently sitting in your bedroom scrolling through your phone. You still had five minutes before you had to leave for work. You had gotten yourself dressed into a smart suit. You didn’t do dresses or skirts. Apart from the fact they are not really practical for the work force you also never liked wearing them.

When your alarm finally rang to indicate to leave you grabbed your backpack and keys and headed out the door. You were lucky the station was within walking distance of your apartment which meant you could walk to work everyday. You passed a little coffee shop on your way there and decided to swing by and get a coffee. You had the time.

As you got to the counter you looked up at the chalkboard revealing what drinks they did.

“Morning, what can I get you today?” the young barista asked you.

“Can I get a large laté with two pumps of caramel syrup in it please?” You asked, grabbing your purse out of your backpack.

“Of course anything else?”

“No, that should be everything.” You gave the barista the exact amount of change and proceeded to wait for your drink to be made. After a couple of minutes your name was called and you collected your drink and continued your walk to work.

This is so peaceful you thought to yourself. As you rounded the final corner you saw the police station come into view. “Today is going to be a good day” you said to yourself hyping yourself up. You were full of nerves but not because you were incapable of doing your job but because you won’t know anyone in this division.

As you walked into the station your new boss was standing waiting for you. The only reason why you recognised him was because he was the one who interviewed you for the job. “Good morning y/n how are you doing this morning?” he asked you. “I’m doing good. Just a little nervous but think it’s just first day nerves and the fact that I don’t know anyone” you nervously laughed to yourself.

“I’m sure you will have a great first day. I’m going to take you to the main work space in the station and then down to the locker room so you can put your belongings away. I then expect you to meet back at the offices once you are done. Is that understood?” He asked. “Yep I understand” you nodded.

With that he took you round the main office which was all open planned so it made communication a lot easier. This is where you would be working and it was an amazing feeling knowing this. He then took you down to the lockers giving you your key and showing which locker was yours. “I will see you in a bit” he said, turning on his heels and walking back up the stairs leaving you with three other constables.

Believe it or not for a detective you were quite shy around new people so decided to just put your stuff in your locker before heading back up. Just as you were about to close your locker you felt a presence to your side. You turned your head expecting to see someone’s face instead you came face to face with a woman’s chest. You blushed looking up to meet the tall blonde's face.

“Hey I’m Miranda. You must be the new detective” she said with a beaming smile. “Your y/n! I heard all about your case back in Tamworth. I thought you were so brave with how you dealt with that case. It must have been so scary to be in that situation. It’s a real shame they never caught the bloke and now you’ve had to move. Honestly it’s such an honour to be working in the same division with you” she rattled on to you.

You just smiled and nodded. You really didn’t want to talk about that case at all. You didn’t think anyone would really know you or the case well but this one constable seems to know everything about you. It was creepy. “Well I will see you around Miranda” you smiled before closing your locker before heading back to the main office. Hopefully you wouldn’t see much of the tall constable because you couldn’t tolerate really bubbly people and you could already tell she was one of those kinds of people.

You arrived back at the office where most of the other detectives and constables were waiting on orders from the captain. You saw many people having coffees from the coffee machine in the corner. To be honest it looked like a pretty shit machine and you were glad that you had gone out and bought your own. After about 10 minutes of waiting the captain came up to speak with you.

“I have a case that has just come in for you. A suspicious package has washed up on the beach and we believe there may be human remains inside. I need you to go down to the crime scene and investigate for me” he said with a stern look. This is great! It’s your first day and a potentially major case has just come through.

“l take it I will get a partner?” you asked your captain. “Yes take Hilmarson” he said sternly. “I’m sorry who is that sir. I haven't managed to meet a lot of my colleagues yet” you said blushing slightly out of embarrassment. “Oh that's ok. The tall blonde over in the corner.” You looked to where he was pointing to see Miranda standing there.

“Is there anyone else sir? I think she has some weird obsession with me. She seems to know things about me that she shouldn’t even know” you stated shivering slightly at the thought. “Nope y/n. Take Miranda she would take a bullet for anyone. I’m sure with time you two will become close” he said chuckling slightly. “I doubt it” you muttered to yourself walking away from the captain, past Miranda and out to the car. “Miranda you’re with me” you said sternly as you walked past her.

You guys both got in the car and with blue lights headed down to the location where the package washed up. “So i’m really excited to be working with you” Miranda said all giddy. “Look, this needs to stop Miranda. We are here to work. Whatever sort of fantasy you seem to have with me and my work needs to stop especially if you're wanting to stay partners” you said giving her a stern look. Her smile faded instantly. You felt bad but in order for you to both get on with the job at hand the obsessive behaviour needed to end there and then.

“I’m sorry if I have crossed some kind of line,” she said softly, looking down while playing with her fingers. “It’s ok Miranda but in order for us to work together well we both need to be focused especially in a case like this. Have you ever dealt with a case like this before?” you asked the blonde while pulling into the carpark near where the package was found.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you. I have never seen a dead body in my career” she said to you finally meeting your gaze as you parked the car. “Well today may change that for you” you said, getting out of the car waiting for your new partner to get out so you could lock the vehicle.

You both walked down to the sea front. Like most beaches you either have to walk down a ramp or steps to get onto the beach itself. Due to Miranda's height she was able to jump down but due to your height there was no way you could do that without hurting yourself. You watched as Miranda spun around and put her arms out as if she was getting ready for you to jump into them.

You had to admit she did look pretty cute with her hands in the air getting ready to catch you. Just as you thought about jumping into her arms you realised how unprofessional that would be of you. She is your work partner plus it's your first day working with the woman. Therefore you decided to just walk down the ramp meeting her on the beach. When she caught up you could see the slight hint of sadness in her face due to your rejection but you knew she would get over it.

“Come on Miranda. I doubt this is going to be a pretty sight” you said walking under the police tape they used to section off a large square where the package was found. You were instantly hit by the smell of a rotting corpse. A smell you were unfortunately too familiar with. “Urh what is that smell?” Miranda asked as she scrunched up her nose at the smell. “That my friend is the smell of a rotting corpse which means whoever has been in there has been there a few days at least. I don’t think this heat is helping though” you said looking up to the sky squinting from the sun.

“The package washed up early this morning, we reckon. It was reported to the police about 8:30am by a dog walker” the officer on scene said to you. “You should really take a look at this. It’s not a pretty sight” he said to you as he grabbed the zip undoing it so you could look further into it.

He was right, the sight of it was not pretty. The poor woman had been cut up and placed into this package. Where it had been in the water the skin had started rotting away making the body almost unrecognisable. “Hilmarson, over her now” you said beckoning the woman. Deep down you didn’t want this woman to see the sight you were currently looking at but it would benefit her if she did.

She looked at the body infront of her trying her best not to vomit at the smell. “Who do you think we are dealing with here?” you asked, stepping back slightly.

Miranda continued to look, assessing the body in further detail. “Well we know whoever did this thought carefully about how they were going to dispose of the body. I think I can see the remains of a lingerie set so she may have been a sex worker. I know for a fact there are plenty of brothels around these areas. She may have found out something she wasn’t supposed to and this was the best way to get rid of her. I think our best way forward is to get her body autopsied as soon as possible. Depending on what we get out of that then I think we should investigate some of the brothels in the area and try to build a case” she suggested standing at full height turning to you looking for approval .

“That sounds like a brilliant idea. Get that body down to the morgue so it can be autopsied. We will meet you over there” you said walking back to the car with Miranda. You were impressed with your partner. She may be annoying at times but she is smart and knows what she is doing.

You and Miranda headed back to the car before starting your drive to the morgue so you can watch the autopsy of the young victim. “So how was that for an experience?” You asked Miranda.

“Well I wasn’t really expecting that the first time I saw a dead body. The smell of it too was just awful. I would love to know what was going through the mind of the person that did this to her. I would hate to think how worried her family must be right now” she said shivering at the thought.

After about a 20 minute car journey you both finally arrived at the morgue. When you arrived they were placing the parts of the body out on the table. You did feel bad for the victim. “So what have we got so far from the victim” you asked.

“Well so far we reckon this woman was in her mid twenties. She is of Asian heritage and she was pregnant. Her unborn baby was in the package with her. That is all we have at the moment. It’s hard if we will pick up any DNA due to the amount of decomposition but will run it just in case we are able to pick up anything but the chances are low” the examiner said to you and Miranda.

You sighed knowing that this wasn’t a lot of evidence to go by but then Miranda piped up. “I know some of the brothels around here have a lot of workers that are of Asian heritage and the fact that she was pregnant may suggest the pregnancy was unwanted on the fathers end which could be a motive to kill. I suggest we investigate some of the local brothels and speak to some of the workers and see if any of their colleagues are missing. If we can find out which brothel she worked at we can look further into their clients and maybe find the killer.” She suggested standing tall and proud at what she suggested.

“Great idea we better get started with this investigation because this is going to be full on” you suggested leaving the morgue and headed back to the car.

You really didn’t think that you would get on with Miranda but she has really proved herself to you and you were glad that she was your new partner in crime.

[shouta-edits]

"May I get a moodboard of the pairing Emily Jenkins x Detective Mike Barron from the movie Case 39? The themes would probably be vague supernatural imagery, alcohol, grief, police lights, and case files?" -anon requested

[aesthetic--mood]

Chloe Decker Aesthetic

[sortofanobsession]

For your presumed dead loving heart: Jaime is a no-show for training and not answering his phone, everyone is annoyed and Roy is pissed, until the police arrive asking help in identifying a body. Roy and Ted go and it's this whole ordeal thinking Jaime's dead, and being relieved it's not him. Meanwhile Jaime is alive but sunderground on the tubes with no service. When he finally gets to Richmond everyone is beside themselves, he's confused, Roy promptly grabs him and kisses him, chaos ensues.

A/N you guys love putting these guys through hell, don't you? And I am here for it! Love the drama. Love it all. Keep em coming! This one is a little shorter than most of the others but it's not the only one I plan to finish today. So, might have another post today. Not sure. Stay tuned.

Ao3

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Word count: 3k+

Paring: Roy/Jamie, Jamie & AFC Richmond Himbos (platonic)

Content Warning: car wreck, police detectives, death (some random dude), grief and loss, angst (happy ending), fear, mentions being sick/vomiting. Swearing, lots of swearing

A Very Bad Day for AFC Richmond Off Pitch

"This is not like Jamie," Dani says, his tone filled with concern.

"Well, not the newer Jamie, old Jamie maybe," Isaac says.

"But that Jamie is long gone. Our Jamie never misses," Dani Insists.

"And he usually tells someone. Did he train with Coach this morning?" Sam asks. 

"I guess, but had to bail early. Said he had something to do before training," Colin states. He'd already asked. Now the coaches were sequestered in the office with the door closed. And that did not sit well with any of them.

"Coach Kent seems very angry," Jan states what they can all clearly see through the window. "He thinks Jamie is going back to old Jamie." 

"Can you read lips?" The others ask. 

"Helps learn languages faster. It unites verbal and vocal cues to memory faster," Jan says.

"Huh, what are they saying now?" 

"That Jamie is still not picking up, and Keeley, I assume it is Keeley-" Jan says.

"Keeley, yes, he said it again," Richard agrees.

"Right, that she has not heard from him. And then Ted said that they can't just assume something then he looked away."

"Maybe they mean-" Richard goes to say but is cut off as a nervous-looking Higgins leads two men none of them knew into the locker room. Higgins hurries to knock on the gaffer's door. Then everyone silently waits. They can't hear what is said, but Roy goes silent and it looked like his anger drained right out with him as fast as the blood seemed to drain from Ted's face. 

"Gatver," Jan curses. Richard unleashes a litany of curses in multiple languages. Dani goes pale.

"What?" Colin asks. "What happened? Who are they."

"Detectives," Jan says.

"Like Scotland Yard? Did they say metro or-" Colin is cut off when the office door opens and Ted and Roy leave.

Coach Beard looks at the team. 

"What's going on, Coach?" Sam asks, hoping his friends were wrong. "Is it about Jamie?"

"We're those really detectives?" Isaac asks.

"Is Jamie okay?" Colin asks. 

All three questions were asked at the same time. Beard holds his hands up. They go silent.

"First, yes they were detectives. Second, They don't know for sure yet but-" Everyone starts talking at once, and Beard looks at Higgins. 

"Shut it!" Isaac shouts. "Let them finish." Beard nods at Isaac.

"It may or may not be about Jamie," Higgins says. 

"How do they not know?" 

"Because the car they found belonged to Jamie Tartt, but they couldn't ID the…" Higgins looks pained as he struggles to say it. 

"They couldn't identify the driver," Beard says. His arms crossed over his chest.

"Was there an accident?" Sam asks, now very worried for his friend. 

"If they couldn't identify him, then he is either dead or close to it," Jan states. Dani does the sign of the cross and mutters a prayer. 

"The driver did not survive," Higgins finally says.

The room erupts into chaos.

"BUT IT COULD STILL BE SOMEONE ELSE!" Beard shouts. The team goes quiet again.

"Jamie has a very recognizable face," Dani says. "How do they not know? It is Jamie, or it isn't Jamie. Cannot be both."

"Roy said Jamie mentioned taking his car somewhere. That it had an issue. We don't know anything yet," Beard explains. "You boys can go home if you want. Training is-"

"We're not going nowhere, til we find out if Jamie is okay, right?" Isaac says, looking at the others who all adamantly agree.

"Well, then get comfy, might be a long wait."

"I should inform, Rebecca-Ms. Welton," Higgins says. And Beard nods as he goes back into his office in case someone calls. 

"This cannot be happening," Dani says.

"Let's hope it isn't," Isaac says. "That is some sorta mix-up."

It goes quiet. No one is sure what to say, and everything feels wrong.

Roy doesn't even look at the team as he goes into the office and sits at his desk. Ted goes in and says something no one can make out to Beard before going back out to the oddly silent team. All of them just waiting for him to say something. 

"Wasn't Jamie," Ted says. Shockingly direct and blunt for the usually verbose gaffer but the relief is palpable in the room. But everyone goes quiet again when Ted still doesn't look happy.

"Then what's wrong?" Sam asks. "Where is Jamie?"

"We still have not been able to track him down, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. He could just have a broken or dead phone. It is possible that there was a family emergency, or he got called away for something and didn't have time to let anyone know. We don't know anything except that someone had Jamie's car."

"Do they think someone took it from him, like violently?" Colin asks. He was too good at coming up with worst-case scenarios.

"No way of knowing yet," Ted says. 

"So what? We just wait here until they tell us if Jamie is even alive?" 

"Assuming they can find him," Bumbercatch says.

"Not the most positive of possibilities,” Ted says. “But we can only hope for a positive outcome."

"What does Roy think?" Colin asks. 

"He hasn't said much other than that was definitely not Jamie," Ted answers honestly. "And I don't suggest asking him too much."

"Why not? He spends the most time with him," Jan says. Roy gets up and goes to the hall, slamming the door as he does. They all wince. 

"Oh, I see," Jan says. 

"He is taking this rather hard, it seems," Ted says. 

It is quiet for a moment before Ted excuses himself to go talk to Rebecca and Higgins. And Roy, if he hasn't gone far, but Roy was already gone. So, he headed upstairs. 

Roy let himself into Jamie's flat with a spare. He had told Jamie he needed to hide better, but Jamie had clearly failed to move the key. It was amazing no one had broken into his flat and- Roy was suddenly very concerned about what he might find inside. He called out for Jamie and was met with silence. Dread pooled in Roy's gut as he closes the door and made his way into Jamie's home. He looked around the floor before going upstairs and checking the first floor. Nothing. No Jamie. No sign anything was wrong. Absolutely nothing. Roy sat down on the edge of Jamie's bed and tried to think about every detail from their early morning training session. Jamie had seemed fine. He was his usual determined and annoyingly chatty self. He didn't seem worked up about anything other than his car having a light out or something. He was annoyed that he had to actually do something about it but not angry or even worried. It was eating Roy up that he hadn't stayed to find out more. Or offer to go wherever Jamie had to go with him. Fuck, why did it feel like he should have never left? Jamie is a grown-ass man. He didn't need Roy to hold his damn hand for everything.

"You sound broken," Keeley says when Roy finishes telling her what he knew. 

"Fuck!" Roy shouts to the empty bedroom. He decided to keep the key and headed back to his car after locking up. The last thing he needed was for Jamie to come home to find his electronics missing or some shit. Roy ignores the tiny voice in the back of his mind that points out Jamie might never come home again. Might never do anything again. And it makes his knuckles go white as he grips his steering wheel and his breakfast threatening to make a reappearance for the second time that day. The first was right before they pulled the sheet back at the morgue. That moment when he thought he might actually have had to look at the cold and lifeless body of Jamie Tartt in the morgue. And fuck, that had nearly destroyed Roy. He had a moment of absolute relief when it was obvious that the body wasn't Jamie's. The face might not have been recognizable, but Roy had just seen Jamie. He knew Jamie's tattoos, and those were different. He knew Jamie's ring. Even his stupid fucking earrings. And the body had none of them. They hadn't taken any of them from the body. Roy actually knew a lot more of Jamie than he even realized he did. He could close his eyes and see the man in vivid detail. For better or for worse, Roy knew Jamie better than most people did. They spent hours talking about mundane shit during early morning runs and training. They even had breakfast on occasion. And Roy had enjoyed every fucking second of his time with Jamie. He drove back to Nelson Road, but before he got out of his car, he called Keeley to update her.

"Fucking feel broken," he admits. 

"Is it because you care for Jamie more than you actually want to admit, or is it because you finally did admit it, and now you are scared you won't be able to do anything about it?"

"The second one," Roy says. "Fuck, Keeley, if something's happened and he-"

"You are going to work yourself into a mess with what-ifs, and when he does come home, you're going to make him worry or, worse, feel guilty. So just breathe and go be with the others. Call me if you hear anything, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Keeley," he says before hanging up. He takes a few deep breaths and goes inside. He waves off anyone that tries to ask how he is. He tells them he went by Jamie's flat, and he wasn't there, and nothing seemed off. Everyone just settles in to wait for some kind of answer. 

Jamie rushes through the door, verbally apologizing for being late, but the train was late. When he notices that it is eerily silent despite the locker room being what had seemed like it's usually chaos when he came in. He looks up. And the room feels fucking off. Dani looks like he has been crying for who knows how long. Colin looks like he's seen a fucking ghost. Sam looks absolutely shook. 

"Who fucking died?" Jamie means it as a dark joke, but when Colin's gaze snaps to Isaac like he expected their captain to explain. Jamie realizes it might not be a joke. "Wait, what-" but he is cut off by a body hitting his. And it knocks him breathless for a second. When he inhales, he gets hit with the overwhelming scent of Roy fucking Kent, and Jamie's brain might have to reboot because when he looks at Roy's face. The man looks fucking shattered, and Jamie is about to ask what was going on when Roy's lips are on his. Jamie swears Roy's hands shake as they grip the sides of Jamie's face. The striker drops the bag he was still holding so he can grip Roy's sides. He has no idea what is going on, but if Roy is kissing him, then he sure as shit isn't going to miss the opportunity to kiss Roy fucking Kent. 17-year-old him would have fucking lost his shit if he could see this.

"Not that I'm complainin'," Jamie says once he gets air back in his lungs. "But what the fuck was that for?" 

"Where the fuck have you been? And where the fuck is your phone?" Roy asks.

Jamie's brow furrows despite the fact Roy still has a grip on his face. "Phones in me bag," Jamie says. "Some prick smashed me tail light. Told ya earlier had to drop it round the shop. Fuckin day for it. Seems the tube system is fucked today. Took fucking ages, and there's never any service down there, or I'd have let you know I'd be late. Shoulda got a loner. Ya gonna tell me going on? What happened?"

"They said you was fucking dead, bruv," Isaac answers him. Roy fucking tenses but doesn't pull away. “Then you weren’t, but still could be.”

Jamie is pretty sure Roy is not a PDA guy, but if what Isaac said is true, Roy's reaction made a bit more sense now, but still, what the fuck?

"What? Who?" Jamie asks and shifts to actually hug Roy, like an actual comforting hug. The right move based on the fact Roy moves one hand to the back of his neck, and the other goes around his shoulder. 

"A detective dropped by and asked us to come identify a body," Ted answers. "Was a tense ride to the police station. I can tell you that much. Thought ol' Roy was going to pass out or throw up. And not cuz of the dead body. Obviously, wasn't you, since you're here. But whooey were we glad it wasn't you. I'm sorry for whoever it was and hope their family will be alright, but never been so glad NOT to see one of you fellas." 

"Fuckin hell," Jamie mutters. "Ehhhh…can you guys…umm."

"Right!” Ted claps. “Now that our boy is here, time to train."

The team grumbles, but they go. Once everyone is gone. Jamie focused on Roy.

"I'm fine, Roy," Jamie says. Not coach, boss, or some joke about his age. He says his name. And that has something twisting in Roy's stomach. Good or bad, he doesn't know. "Really, I swear."

"Fuck," is the first thing Roy manages to articulate, and that earns a nervous laugh from Jamie. 

"Yeah," Jamie grins because he can feel Roy start to relax. "Makes a lot more sense why I had like a hundred messages and voicemails. I just thought you all were just mad I was late. Not like late for me next birthday, kinda late." Jamie winces at his own dark humor joke. It earns a grunt from Roy, and he finally pulls away to actually look at Jamie. 

"You have the worst fucking humor," Roy states.

"Yeah, that one’s a bit dark, innit?" Jamie laughs. "Probably not me best timed one either."

"Fuck no," Roy grunts. 

"But a bad joke is still a joke, and can't tell many of those if 'm dead." 

Roy nods in agreement. 

"You right enough that I can get me kit on? Or do you need another hug?" Jamie genuinely asks. He's not about to rush anything, even if it is just letting Roy process the fact Jamie is very much still alive. Roy seems to weigh his options. He studies Jamie before pulling him in for another kiss. Jamie gives him exactly what he wanted. Once they pull apart again, Roy tells him to hurry the fuck up and get out on the pitch. Jamie just laughs.

He is lacing up his boots when his phone rings, and he answers it.

"Fucking hell, Jamie. Are you alright?" Keeley asks. She seems almost as stressed as the team was, and Jamie realizes someone must have called her trying to find him.

"I'm fine, still very much alive and late for training," he tells her.

"Roy was losing his fucking mind," Keeley says.

"I know, he…well, I'll tell you later. If I don't get out there, the whole damn team might come looking for me. I promise I will tell you the full story."

"After training," she says.

"Right, after training," he agrees.

"I'll hold you to it," Keeley says. "Oh, and I'm sorry about your car, but you can always get a new one."

"Wait, what about me car?" he asks as he finishes lacing his boots. 

"Uhh, ask Roy. He can give you the details. And help you pick a new one," she says.

"Right, okay. Gotta go, yeah?"

"Text me later, babe. Now go on."

Jamie grins as he hangs up and heads to the tunnel. 

Roy looks over at him as he reaches the pitch.

"You good? Took you a while," Roy looks him over, but he looks fine.

"Keeley called," Jamie states.

"That would do it," Roy nods.

"She mentioned something," Jamie says. Roy is suddenly very concerned that Keeley said something Roy hadn't had the nerve to say out loud but was pretty sure Jamie had figured out based on the fact Roy had nearly knocked him over and kissed him. Fuck that was- his thoughts are cut off when Jamie speaks.

"What happened to me car?" Jamie asks, and Roy grunts. 

"Totaled. Some prick took it for a joyride and got themselves killed."

"Fuck,” Jamie says. His car was just a car, but yeah he can see why the police and shit got involved. “And you guys thought it was me?" 

"Until Ted and I told them that the dead guy was not you."

"You had to…fuck, Roy. That's fucked up."

"Yeah, well, better us than your mum having to drive four hours to do it."

"Don't even joke. That would kill her," Jamie grimaces. 

"Wasn't exactly a fun time for us either. But I knew it wasn't you," Roy says. 

"How?" Jamie is actually curious.

"Because I know you, Jamie. I know you better than I do most people. And I know that for a reason."

"Oh yeah? What is that?"

"Because someone has to make sure you do shit, like move your damn spare key," Roy says, holding up the spare key to Jamie's flat. "I told you to do that weeks ago. It was way too obvious. And you are too famous to be that-"

"Stupid?" Jamie offers up, eyeing the key.

"Reckless," Roy finishes. "Fucking hell, Jamie."

"Just keep it, then I won't have to hide one," Jamie shrugs.

"Are you serious?" Roy asks, absolutely shocked.

"I mean, you show up at my house like every morning before dawn. Might as well make it easier on both of us and keep it. Besides, I have a feeling you'll be using a lot more now that-" Jamie is cut off by Roy kissing him. They get catcalls and wolf whistles from the players on the pitch. Jamie blushes and ducks his head when they pull apart. Roy just flips everyone off and tells them to fuck off and take a lap. They laugh until they realize he wasn't joking. Jamie joins them. After the lap, there is a lot of hugging, especially between Jamie, Dani, and Sam, before training actually starts in earnest. Jamie may need a new car, but he is sure as hell glad he has his coaches and his friends, especially Roy. Roy was easily becoming a bit of everything. His coach, his friend, and now something more. Yeah, Jamie could live with needing a new car for this outcome. He can live with that.

[what-the-dark-has-foretold]

A modern (?) au with the Police Aca squad + Akai and Gin being a special unit working on a mission in a foreign country. They drive around in a big black van, trying to stay underneath the gaze of the national military. The entire country is locked, everyone hiding in their homes or wherever they were when it all started, but Date somehow picks up a girl roaming the streets alone? It's dangerous, there's military operations going on all over the country. So, though those two big scary guys in the group seem to not approve too much, the others take her in with open arms - even though there is a bit of a language barrier.

[regsuns]

Regulus: ...witnesses have claimed to have seen the suspect far from the scene of the crime.

James: i object, your honor!

Regulus: you have no power to do that, Potter.

James: uhh, *kissing noises*

Regulus:

Regulus: moving on—

[sarahblueskyyyy]

Lead

Ghost x Reader, Detectives! AU, drama, mystery, short-fic, crime, murder, detail description about blood and crime scene, angst, hurt/comfort, bad ending, thriller. Dead Dove: Do not Eat.

Photo by Cassi Josh on Unsplash

"Let's look at the bright side. We can try to do a thorough analysis one more time and let's see if we can catch the killer faster than he kills his next victim. Right, Riley?" Your grin is wide, smeared with innocence and unbelievable amount of excitement.

Simon sighs and rolls his eyes. Oh, his life.

FPS

Forensic Pathology Services

THIS IS A CONFIDENTIAL REPORT TO THE CORONER AND SHOULD NOT BE DISCLOSED TO A THIRD PARTY WITHOUT HER PERMISSION.

Final Post Mortem Report

Dr. Kate Laswell – Date of Birth: 11.03.75

At approximately 0100 after midnight, 5th August 2023, at the request of Greater Manchester Police, I attended the crime scene of—

His eyes jump and skip the beginning part of the report. He doesn’t need to know the unravelling part of the corpse.

When he finds the information he was searching for, he continues reading, absorbing every single word in it.

SCENE EXAMINATION

The crime scene, for the lack of a better word, was anarchic. It was undoubtedly a torture room.

The body belongs to a woman in her [redacted]. She was tied up in a chair, nails were pulled out from her fingers, and were lined up on top of a desk near the door. Both of her shoulders were dislocated and her right popliteal bone was broken. Judging by the state of the body, she has been dead for at least 2 hours before 0100. 

Her partner, who is also a police officer, managed to catch one of the perpetrators, but received a strike on his head as well.

Bloodstaining, contamination on clothing, and contamination on exposed body surfaces.

A white shirt, jeans, and short-heeled shoes. Clothes were intact, except for the damage they’ve taken.

There was bloodstaining on both sides of the sleeves.

There was some bloodstaining on top of her jeans in the right knee area.

Dirt and bloodstain over the ankles and shoes region. Possible cause: running in the mud before finally captured and killed.

Heavy bloodstaining over the neck, cheek, jaw, lips, arms, and hands. It was suspected that the victim received multiple physical abuse to her face and arms using dull weapons such as a hammer.

Lighter bloodstaining over her chest.

Small bloodspots are found on the inner side of her stomach and back—

When someone calls his name, his eyelids flutter. He closes up the paper, then sneers. Whatever. Job has been done. He gets up and answers the calling of his title.

.

.

.

"A 45-year-old woman, known as Larisa Barkov, ex-wife of Roman Barkov. Cause of death, loss of blood; hypovolemic shock. Precise cuttin' in jugular veins, artery, and behind the knee; popliteal veins." Kyle huffs. He traces the outline of the corpse with his eyes, then moves his orbs towards the photos that have been taken before by the forensics.

"Ye must be kiddin' me," Johnny chirped in. He looks as frustrated as the others. "Last mudder looks like a perfectionist did it, noo they role-playin’ as a surgeon?”

Price is pressing his nape. "It's indeed all over the place. What do you think, Simon?"

Simon blinks. He glances at you before he answers the police inspector, calm and unwavering, "Well, the method is different each time. It's hard to believe that these are the work of the same person. But then again, the consistency of the murder timing, the body placement, and the fact that every victim we find used to know each other ...."

You shrug, looking at the body. Poor, poor woman—her pupils are blown; she died in a state of great shock. Probably couldn't believe that this is the way she dies. Her blood was gushing out faster than her brain could comprehend and her heart was pumping empty vessels. As a result; here she is now—mouth gaping, eyes rolled back, and a pool of blood forming a big circle around her. Her body is bloated—all swelling and her face looks like it’s a red balloon, ready to burst. One poke on her eyeball and it probably will.

"Too much of a coincidence, don't ya think?" You mutter.  

"You're right," Kyle stands up from his squat position. He trades gaze with his team. "Might have to re-analyze everythin'. Even our profiler is nearly throwing himself out of the window because of this case. Whoever does this; they are clearly familiar with how an investigation works."

"Ye sayin' he's someone like us?"

"There is a possibility," Price fills in Johnny's direct question. "The way the perpetrator purposely messing with us with different murder methods, rearranges the victims’ homes and represent themselves as someone different, yet showin' us that they are one and the same through the connection between the victims ... they're toyin' with us. Someone who knows how we move and think."

"I don't like th' soond ay thes ...."

You give them a soft, hopefully—comforting smile. "Let's look at the bright side. We can try to do a thorough analysis one more time and let's see if we can catch the killer faster than he kills his next victim. Right, Riley?"

Simon rolls his eyeballs to the corners of his eyes; staring at you before he sighs and says, "Let's just pack it up for tonight. I'll make the report and let's see what we can find out in the mornin'."

Price nods silently. His eyes, blue and dark, dabbed with tiredness, looking at the man with black, skull-painted mask. He sighs.

.

Simon’s gaze is set on every picture and document that are laying on the desk. The take out he ordered; a simple fried noodle from a Chinese restaurant, is ignored and already half-emptied. The brown eyes are scanning through the data with a keen scrutiny of words and numbers and the visuals that are carved into the paper.

These pictures are not usually paired with dinner. But he needed to eat something; his stomach was protesting; emitting various kinds of gurgles. So, he settled for the easiest choice.

You tug the corner of your lips. “Shall we start from the beginning?”

Simon doesn’t answer.

You decide to start anyway. “First victim; Hadir Karim, long lost brother of Commander Farah Karim from Dubai Police Force. In early 2003, Hadir joined the Bratva1 and had been active as a brigadier since then. He was assigned to handle all the organisation’s operations in here, Manchester. He was murdered in his home 2 months ago at precisely 11 P.M. The inside of his home was purposely re-arranged to imitate a torture room; dark, flickering light, scattered and broken furniture, and a single chair where he was tied up and killed with all his nails were ripped off his fingers.”

Simon looks down and shuts his eyes. With his knuckles, he’s pressing the middle point between his eyebrows, trying to crumble down the throbbing in his head that has been bothering him since three months ago.

You shift your attention to the second document. Photos were compiled neatly, a contradiction of what it portrays. Shame. The pretty face of the man in that picture was mauled ruthlessly. “Within a span of two weeks, the next victim was found. Hassan Zyani; the former right-hand man of General Ghorbrani from Iran's Quds Force. After the death of his general, Hassan Zyani joined the Bratva and quickly enthralled the top executives. He climbed rank as the bookkeeper and was tightly connected in terms of work with his direct man; Karim. What a coincidence, right?”

Simon scoffs. “Time of death was 11 P.M., in his own house that has been trashed around to imitate a burglar’s work.”

“Correct,” you nod. Your hips move as your legs take some steps. One, two—until you get closer to the man in the skull mask. “The third victim is Roman Barkov. One of the most trusted men of the Boss. Ranked as the Two-Spies and pleaded loyalty to Vladimir Makarov, Roman Barkov was his Judge, Jury, and Executioner. When there is a mutiny inside the organisation, or when an outsider gets and or sniffs too close to them …,” you float your sentence in the middle of thin air. Giving him a short smile. “… it’s Barkov’s job to pursue the outsider, interrogate them, and kill them. But of course, Hadir Karim and Hassan Zyani played a big part in that game."

Simon scowls at you. However, you pay no heed. His glare is an empty threat, an accessory tied up to his hardened demeanour. At least—you know that’s the case for you. 

“With the same time of death, he was found in his house, died by the shock of torture and his nails all were stripped from his fingers, then was lined-up. Judging by the crime scene, his house was untouched by the killer, and it shows us just like how Barkov died; he was a perfectionist.”

Simon lets out a soft hmn.

“And, the newest victim is—”

“—Larissa Barkov,” Simon cuts you off. The hammering pain in his head has not subsided at all. His brown eyes dart at you, irritation seeps into each syllable, “I know this. Your repetition is redundant.”

“Hey, I’m just helping you!” A grin flashes all across your face. Too cheerful for a detective who works in a police force—for an individual who deals with carcasses on a daily basis. “You might miss an important part.”

“Yeah?” Now, his voice is thick with sarcasm. “And what the fuck it might be?”

You hum. “For example … why were all the victims murdered exactly at eleven P.M.? Why does the perpetrator bother rearranging their homes? Was he trying to send a message? If that’s the case, then what kind of message? To whom, for what purpose? Is it revenge, or—is it entirely something else? Why did he kill the ex-wife of the sovietnik3, Roman Barkov? To let him have the taste of losing someone dearly?”

“Do you ever shut up?”

You smile. “You love me the most when I open my mouth—wide and nicely.”

Simon widens his eyes. Eyebrows knitted together and to be perfectly honest—he is not surprised at all. He knows you too well, he has an expectation that the things that are verbalized from your thoughts are either messy, unhinged, or straight up obscene. Sometimes, it’s the concoction of all three.

“In any case, we know why, don’t we—Simon?”

“For God’s sake—"

Knock-knock.

“Simon? You there? Can I come in?”

Price’s voice is muffled a little by the door that stands between him and the room that Simon is occupying right now. The detective takes a deep breath, shoots you a glare, before answering, “Yes. I’m here.”

Price takes the statement as a consent for him to approach Simon. The Inspector grabs the door’s handle, rotates it slightly, and expands an access for him to enter the room. After he goes in, he closes the door with a push using his back.

Price throws a furtive peek towards two boxes of fried noodles. A take-out. One of them is half-eaten, and the other is untouched—sitting compliantly on top of the desk, with wrapped chopsticks on its side and all.

“I thought we are gonna review this in the morning, hm-mnn?” Price delivers a mild and harmless teasing.

Simon tugs the corner of his lips a little. It isn’t obvious under that mask, but—Price can see the way Simon’s eyes are lifted. “Sorry. Can’t help it. Just wanna solve this.”

You snort—trying your best to swallow back your laugh.

“You need to tone it down a little, Simon.” The tone of Price’ sentence is undoubtedly tender. It is not an absolute order nor an ultimatum—just a friendly, sympathetic reminder. “You’ll crash if you keep doing this.”

Simon doesn’t respond. Seeing that, you decide to return the remark on his behalf, “Work is his way to avoid overthinking, Sir. He’ll pipe down once he’s satisfied.”

Price sighs.

“Why are you here, Price?” Simon finally asks. “I’m sure there is something else beside the suggestion to sleep?”

This time—Price breathes out a playful sneer. He raises his right arm—his fingers are anchored to the files he’s been holding. “Your medical assessment.”

“What does it say?”

You’re gazing at them. Pupils are focusing on two men exchanging words and you intertwine your own fingers.

“You might wanna see it yourself. You’ve been ignoring this far too long—enough is enough,” Price tells him firmly. He puts down the document. For a moment, the blue eyes of his are softened, and he squeezes Simon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Simon. I’m not telling you to get it over with, but—be kind to yourself. You might feel you’re fine, but it doesn’t hurt to admit that you’re not.”

Simon feels anger crawling up to his chest, then slowly bleeding to his head. But before it turns into something unretractable, he extinguishes it—calmly, within a heartbeat. His common sense and the cogs of his mind are working clearly and he knows better than to lash out.

“I know,” he utters. “Just … I don’t want to think about it. Working here is far better than—,” he stops.

—than staying at home, with the remnants of her in every part of the house?

Price completes the sentence in his own head, but he doesn’t transform it into a tangible voice. Instead, he takes a few seconds. He knows he needs to weigh every word; he’s walking on a thin line, and he has no choice but to tread carefully. “It wasn’t your fault, son. You did her best—she did too. And for what it’s worth—I believe she wouldn’t want to see you break yourself; for her or even your sake.”

Simon scoffs gently. “Just wanna live up to the expectation, Inspector.”

“Mh-hmn.” Price looks at the investigation board. Photos and information are neatly sticked there. Too precise for his liking. “And who knows, maybe this is their karma. You reap what you sow, right? Probably better for them to die and stop makin’ a mess in this town, or any other one.”

The brown-eyed man counters the half-hearted joke with the same tone, “Probably. Too bad, Price—if someone other than me heard you, you’d have been faced with arraignment real quick.”

Price’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Go home. Or wherever you want to be—but not here. Take a rest. Enjoy your night. ‘Ya hear me?”

Simon relaxes his body, falls his shoulders from its stiff stance before. He smiles and nods. “Crystal. Goodnight, Price.”

“Night, Simon.”

After Price’s withdrawal, silence fills the room once more. The ringing in Simon’s ear, however—remains intact, possibly gets louder in every passing time, echoing in his head.

Your call jerks him out, “Simon. Do you want to continue—or … perhaps go home and take a rest?”

You slant your head a little. Voice meek and sheepish—almost innocent, pristine like a growing child who knows nothing but the small world of her backyard. An extreme switch from the arrogant and witty behaviour you present before. An insane, inconsistent change that makes his head spiral; as if throwing him out of his reality.

However, hearing the geniality in his own ears, Simon sighs. The sharpness in his words erode when he says, “No—I don’t want to continue. Besides, look at the time. We’re almost late.”

You check the clock—hanging obediently at the wall. Ten past twenty. You beam, eyes are sparkling.

Simon’s lips form a simple curve. “Let’s go.”

“Okay!”

.

.

.

His eye is sealed into the crosshair. At the end of that scope, there is a man, pacing back and forth in his place. A skyscraper building, mimics a castle with all its residents inside of it. Well—it might not be a hyperbole to call him a king.

“Aha. Vladimir Makarov himself—Godfather of Bratva, the Boss, the man in charge. What a title.” You sag your body against the short wall. A simple barrier to enunciate there is a void across the roof you’re sitting on. Head straight up ahead. The visual of a night sky is served at your sight.

Simon let the red mark trailing the man’s every footstep.

Makarov is on the phone with someone. His body gesture is erratic and a clear dread can be seen through the way he’s screaming. His nerves are bulging on his neck, sternocleidomastoid muscles are lengthened from the base of his jaw to his clavicula—every time he shrieks to whoever pitiful receiver at the end of that phone call.

His first and foremost man; a security guard of his—Imran Zakhaev, is standing near him.

“You’re not gonna do the usual, Simon?”

“What usual?” His voice is deep and raspy and the question is rhetorical.

“You know,” you alter your body, now facing the same direction he is. “Trash around the house, rearrange it, or—something?”

“No need,” he declares, not so powerful that the world can hear it, but making sure you are able to. “This is just to finish the job.”

You grin. “To banish evil down to its roots, hmn?”

Simon stops the chatter. His eye is fixating on the target. And bless—or curse?—the skill of his that has been honed since the first time he entered this industry; when he pulls the trigger, a silver bullet glides from the barrel, steadfast towards its destination, before accurately piercing the skull of that poor man, rendered him useless in a matter of a second, and his body falls to the floor like a opossums pretend to be dead.

The difference is—he is dead.

Simon launched one more bullet. This time, it ends Imran Zakhaev’s life.

The grin in your lips grows. “Finally satisfied?”

“Humn.” He’s tidying up his rifle, putting it back to its case.

“Should we go back, then?” You stand and stretch your arms up in the air. Your smile persists as usual, sweet and naïve. “Maybe we could buy a gelato on the way home? I really want a salted caramel—oh, and maybe we could try the stracciatella!”

Simon huffs. He zips up the case. He’s still sitting there, taking his breath. Dear whoever God is listening—his head is hurting, and sound won’t crumble no matter how many pills he has gulped down.

“Simon?” You blink, sitting near him. Your hands reach his. He can feel the warmth and it makes his stomach hurl. It makes his chest tightens and he knows it’s a really short countdown until his heart is stopped—either by the headache, or by his own hand.

“Let’s go home?” you offer.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Can’t do it anymore. I’m really—tired.”

“Yes,” you affirm. “That’s why, we go home, take a rest, sleep, and—wake up as usual tomorrow! Okay? You promised Johnny to bring him a sandwich from your favourite place, right?”

You are greeted by silence. Simon sighs and he reaches behind his back—and when you realize it, his fingers already clamped on a small gun.

“Nononono, Simon, aren’t we—doing just well?” You force a smile. A nervous, desperate, laughter is rumbling from the base of your larynx. “It’s finished! It’s finished, right? Please?”

“Stop—fuck.” His chest is up and down, slowly, following the heaviness of his breathing pace. Your voice lingering inside his eardrums, making its way through his head, and the sweetness in it is almost sickening. “Stop talking.”

Your eyes broaden when he lays the muzzle in his temple.

“Si—”

.

.

.

.

.

Patient Medical Record

Patient Information: Simon Riley

Date of Birth: 18 April 1989

Address: [redacted]

Height – Weight: 6’2 – 224 lbs

In Case of Emergency: [redacted. The involved party has passed away]

Diagnosis: Non-penetrating TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury)

By Dr. Phillip Graves

As requested by Greater Manchester Police, a thorough medical examination was conducted on Mr. RILEY, Simon, after a case on 5th August 2023. Patient received a hard blow on his frontal lobe. Physically speaking, the blunt trauma on the skull is not severe. However, a neurological and psychological exam are encouraged to provide more information regarding the patient’s motor and sensory skills, test hearing and speech, coordination and balance, changes in mood or behaviour, and mental status. It is not uncommon for patients with TBI experiencing auditory and sensory hallucination.

Warning: Individual with a history of TBI never experience suicidal thoughts, however, there is a high possibility that a PTSD or a recent lost of an important person could increasing the risk for suicidal thoughts and behaviours. Mr. Simon Riley is encouraged to seek medical help.

.

A/N:

Bratva: Russian Mafia

The hierarchy is basically like this:

1. Boss/Godfather/Pakhan

2. Two Spies/Sovietnik

3. Bookkeeper

4. Brigadier

LMAO this is such a cliche story, I like it. I’ll come back next time with a much lighter story because my brain hurts lololol.

[violetmuses]

Intertwined - Zemo (Chapter 2)

TITLE: “Intertwined” - Helmut Zemo (Detective AU)

FANDOM: Marvel (Modern AU)

CHARACTER: Helmut Zemo 

MAIN PAIRING: Helmut Zemo + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: When Zemo unexpectedly finds himself working in a new department, you change his world forever. 

Author’s Note: Hey! Chapter 2 is here. Please let me know what you think and feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks so much for reading my work as always. - V.  💜

Intertwined - Masterlist 🔍

Main Masterlist 💜

Tags: @norabrice1701 @tavners 🏷

___________

After nearly racing back to the precinct, you mull over important details. 

That victim lost their life, loved ones were informed, Zemo suggested that an expert marksman could be responsible, and this tragedy occurred in an apartment building, too. 

Yet, potential suspects hadn’t been confirmed as of late, not even neighbors or the summer party guests. 

“Could we trace something towards the victim’s background? Perhaps there were enemies.” Zemo sat beside you as a department tech clicked through another database. 

“Enemies? A college student was killed, Zemo. Not some global diplomat.” You immediately pull defenses and attempt to humanize this situation. Someone is dead, of course. 

“Consider every possibility. As I’ve said, no average civilian would pull their trigger this way to kill someone here.” Zemo continues. 

“What else do you suggest?” You cross both arms, wanting to leave. 

“If the killer’s bullet planned to send a message, then we should start again.” Zemo kept these riddles going and you nearly cast your eyes towards the ceiling. 

“Are you saying that we should interrogate the victim's family again?” Soon after, your heart drops. 

“No.” Zemo clarifies his response once the database tech leaves and you’re alone with him near this shut down computer. “Moving away from the inner circle could answer more questions. We have only learned some basics from paperwork.” 

Branch out. You think to yourself. 

****

“When are you coming home?” Heike asks the question through another call with Zemo. 

“Later than expected unfortunately. We haven’t even solved this case yet.” Zemo affirms, sighing for a moment as he paces. 

“Just come home…Please?” Heike settles down personal frustration and sends best wishes to her husband. There’s no other choice. 

“I will. I love you.” Zemo ends this call, sitting in silence. 

_________

The victim’s final roommates, two ironic Criminal Justice majors, meet you and Zemo in a private area. For the sake of this investigation, you cannot risk speaking in public. Of course, it’s known that anyone could be listening, even the perpetrator. 

“Nothing unusual happened. We all looked forward to graduation and said goodbye to each other after the ceremony on campus.” One roommate spoke up, shaking their head for a moment after recounting this version of their last few memories. 

“Was the victim social?” Zemo clears his throat, offering his own question rather than being cut off by other people. 

“As social as we could be during those years. Even I worked through our school's pre-law track.” The first roommate goes on. Meanwhile, their nearby classmate nods in silence, waiting for the chance to be addressed. 

All work, no play. More textbooks than tequila. Zemo glances towards you, silently agreeing. 

“Any issues?” You question them, trying to see if the classmates had significant problems. 

“No. All three of us got along.” The second roommate chimes in and softly grins this time around. 

Good on the surface. Now what? You’re standing at a proverbial crossroads right now. Any upcoming questions may very well shift everything. 

Before long, you turn to Zemo, who quickly catches your extra round of silence without saying much in return. He needs to help you out. 

In that moment, he knows so much better than to slide pictures from the crime scene. Recent television broadcasts show enough chaos. 

“How close was your relationship with the victim?” He questions both roommates and those wheels start turning in your head once more. Still, you stay mute, listening instead. 

“Not close like family, but we cared about each other. This whole situation is terrible.” That Pre-Law roommate holds their heart while looking at Zemo and furrows brows. 

“Thank you.” Zemo rises from a chair and gathers his favorite coat, ending this chat. You have no other choice but to follow him. 

“Did we answer your questions, Detective?” That Pre-Law roommate asks, still sitting down. 

“You both assisted.” Zemo glances over his shoulder, leaving through the exit with you almost trailing behind every footstep. 

****

“Flaky?” You question Zemo in this car, heading back to the precinct. 

“Everyone grieves differently of course, but something did not feel right.” Zemo sighs without facing you and concentrates on driving. His amber eyes lock towards the road. 

“Which roommate?” You squint again. 

“The Pre-Law student.” Zemo rasps through his accented English once more, trying not to lose composure. 

Shit. You think. 

***

Bingo. 

You found information on that “potentially suspicious”  pre-law student. After zipping right back to the precinct, more department techs clicked through open databases again. 

“All right. Let’s see: transfer student, full-ride scholarship to the university, affluent relatives.” You mark the so-called bulletpoints after printing off details. 

“Affluent relatives? How do that student’s parents earn income?” At this moment, Zemo nearly freezes, but immediately looks at you. 

“The guy’s father is a defense attorney and Mom owns this beach resort.” You clarify, holding up one part of the stapled part document. 

“Two different industries.” Zemo wipes down his exhausted face, plopping down in another chair and sitting across from you. 

“We should head to Dad first.” You suggest. “The defense attorney concept looks promising.” 

“Fair.” Zemo cuts. 

“Can’t hang?” You joke without giving much humor. On the other hand, Zemo cringes as he drinks chilled styrofoam tea. 

“I’m fine.” Zemo fibs, remembering that Heike would rather see him at home, not traveling everywhere in this country. 

“We’ll go tomorrow. Night.” You catch that lie from Zemo, but still don’t embarrass him. 

Both of you work to reorganize paperwork and lock down the filing cabinets, gathering belongings to leave. 

__________

Zemo can’t sleep that night. He’s pacing back and forth in the small hotel room, not enjoying luxury here. A glass of ice water, not whisky, rests in his leftward palm.  

One large view of blinding streetlights and downtown traffic casts beyond rear windows. No breathtaking architecture loomed in front of him. 

Come home. Heike’s gentle voice sends a reminder to Zemo’s thoughts. 

Seconds later, your face reaches his memory as well.