#the case of the Vanished Detective | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morallyinept · 3 months

Text

Rockford & Roses - A Detective Tim Rockford One Shot 🌹

Summary: Tim's coming home to you on Valentine's night with a heavy heart and secrets that threaten to tear you apart. Can your love for him survive the ghosts of his past that still haunt him? More importantly, are you willing to make room for them in your already strained marriage?

Pairing: Det. Tim Rockford x Wife!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. Mostly angst. Definite angst. You're safe. Kinda.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Alludes to smut, nothing detailed/mentions details of a case involving the murder of a child, nothing too graphic/alcoholism/A N G S T in abundance/some dark themes in the sense that Tim is self-destructing. Tim is very a broken man, poor lamb. Give him a hug, will you?

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This story evolved massively from the direction it was going in originally, and I'm actually kinda pleased about that... It's something different from your typical, "schmoozy" Valentine's Day story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.🌹

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Detective Tim Rockford had been sober for almost a year when it all fell apart completely on that terrible night.

But it wasn’t until the winter was in its latter stages, that he would tip fully over the edge into regular, almost daily, bouts of oblivion to keep himself from falling off the ledge completely.

To keep the nightmares and sense of guilt that he drowned in on a near constant basis at bay.

He unscrews the cap from the bottle of dark amber liquid he’s craftily been hiding under the seat in his car, and swallows it all back letting it slip down his throat.

Without him giving it permission to, his mind replays over the events from that fateful night, four years ago, and is brought back to the little girl lying at the bottom of the ravine just off of the ridge.

A call had come in about a missing child on the morning in question, and he and his partner Peter ‘Petey’ Harman went over to the home of the parents to talk to them about it. You know, do the initial questioning; worker bee stuff. Try to suss out if she was a regular runaway or if in fact one of them had stuffed her under the foundations and was crying wolf.

The family home was nice; an average run-of-the-mill house, in an average run-of-the-mill neighbourhood. Tim was presented with a photo of her from her mother and he remembered thinking that he’d missed his chance to be a father, to watch your belly swell and witness the miracle of life forged from your love, and it left a bitter taste.

She was cute as a button; all brown hair and freckles, and she had this blue, silk princess-dress, with lace collars and cuffs, wearing a gonky smile that was missing a tooth or three.

‘Find my baby, please Tim.’ Her mother had begged him whilst Harman took down the notes - he was good with that stuff - and Tim promised her that he would - knowing that a detective should never promise that - if it was the last thing he ever did. Not knowing that he would actually make good on that word further down the line.

Looking again at the picture, he learned it was her favourite dress, her mother had said it through the red eyes that she wore that pretty dress everywhere, and that she turned into the spawn of Satan himself when she tried to get her out of it so it could be cleaned.

It was also the same dress Tim had found her wearing when he discovered her remains.

The search had been dragged out as much as it could be, but there was no trace of her. Leads had been exhausted; those pulled in for questioning were found innocent and their alibis solid.

It was as if Rainie Thompson had vanished off the surface of the planet in a click of a finger.

The search efforts began to die off around the four week point, mostly due to the heavy snow settling in and it pained him to know that everyone was giving up on finding this little girl - a little girl that he was convinced was still alive - she just had to be; he could feel it in his gut.

Some perverted bastard had her and he was determined to make them feed from a tube for their rest of their life when he found them.

Tim was determined to find her, despite his colleagues and even Harman at times, convincing him it was a lost cause. He’d been spending most of his time - including down time - combing the woods, the parks - everywhere and anywhere he could think to try and find her.

Where are you, baby? She consumed him wholly.

She was what kept your husband away from you.

Left you sat at the dining table alone, with an uneaten plate opposite you and a creeping draft settling into your bones. The creaky sounds of the house seemed louder when you were alone, and soon they were your only companion; their creaks soon turning into words of comfort at an absent husband.

Tim left the space in the bed vacant, crease-free and cold beside you.

Tim’s whole world had come tumbling down when he’d picked Rainie up and cradled her small, cold body to his chest and wailed like he had lost his own beau.

No, baby... no.

He cursed up to the sky, as though having it out with God himself - God, who had allowed this innocent, beautiful child to die.

Tim wasn’t exactly devout or the God-fearing type. He’d been to church only a handful of times in his life; to marry you being the most notable, but after that day he’d especially not been back to a church since.

This is how faith dies in a person; violated and fractured. Altered and hollowed out from the inside and everything pure and good is obliterated by the poisoning fingers of the darkness in the world, wrapping their hands tightly around its neck and simply snapping it in two.

Fuck you, God! Damn you, you son of a bitch!

She had been thrown down in there like a puppet whose strings had become entangled with themselves; she was six-years-old.

Rainie Thompson was six-years-old and she had a little, blue dress and played Hopscotch and liked drawing pictures of red roses, and eating chocolate ice-cream until her tummy hurt.

Rainie Thompson was the one who killed him.

Tim cried through the drinking, mourning her like his own and mourning the part of him that was dying with her; a hollow husk of a man soon to be filled by the familiar numbing void that alcohol had to offer.

It would make him forget the horror; forget the depravity, although the nightmares would never relent, he would be certain of that - they never do.

To date, he hasn’t found the killer and it’s been four years. A one-off, grisly murder that hinted at possible cannibalism, but later was discovered she’d been partly eaten by a wild animal scavenging; it left very little in the way of clues or evidence, because there was very little of her left.

Most of his team concluded it absolutely was an animal of some kind, a cougar happened upon her perhaps, or a bear after she'd wandered off? But Tim did not quite believe that - they didn’t see her.

It’s changed him, changed something within Tim to see the world for what it is. The band-aid has been ripped off and once you see that shit, you can never unsee it again.

And Tim's seen some pretty fucked up shit in his career.

He closed up, closed off and began unknowingly cementing the spiralling destruction that was to be his life. He’s fifty-eight and has nothing anymore.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he has you.

Despite the distance that has grown between you, evolving from carnal desire to ships passing silently in the night, you remain steadfast in your love for Tim, silently supporting him as he battles the demons that threaten to consume him wholly.

Yet he can’t help but feel that he's condemned you already in some ways. Watching as those demons hold you down and tear pieces from you until, one day, they'll be nothing left.

The wife of a gritty detective doesn't bode well in a happily ever after.

His decades long career is the reluctant third wheel in your marriage, and at first you admired his dedication; his passion to solving mysteries. Getting excited yourself when he'd use the dining room walls to gather his thought maps, pinning up mug shots, red thread lines linking people and place and circumstance. Weapons of choice like an elaborate game of Clue.

And he'd talk to you about them in those early days, the tamer cases he had. Mugs of coffee and thoughtful kisses exchanged as you offered your opinion and challenged his thinking.

Now it's getting harder not to resent that damn gold badge.

He swigs again at the bottle. It feels good; the warm, numbing sensation flooding through his veins down both his arms and legs. The giddy onslaught of amnesia begins to twinkle around the edges of alert thinking as he slowly succumbs to the light buzz.

He closes his eyes and lets himself teeter on the edge of it, welcoming the calmness like an old friend.

His first heavy session had led to his first blackout and it had scared him; scared him that he could lose a chunk of time that was unaccounted for out of his life - waking up at home fully clothed in the armchair, sometimes the kitchen floor, knowing he'd driven severely under the influence, and equally amazed and relieved that he hadn’t killed anybody in the process. They would take his badge for that recklessness if they knew.

No-one knew. Or if they did, they never mentioned it.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him. It got him through the paralysing fear of handling those dark days, which were particularly brutal, and the other fucked up cases he’d had to solve since.

They tell you; tell you that it will be difficult and bad, but you’re never prepared for it.

His father never prepared him for that shit and was right when he said he hadn’t got the cajones to be a police officer all those years ago.

His father headed up the ranks of Chief in a suburban precinct elsewhere and eventually made Commander, like Tim knew he would, probably just to spite him. He also told Tim in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t "Commander material." Hell, he wasn’t even Detective’s material, and for a while, Tim believed sincerely that he was right.

Although, he’s six feet under now, so what the Hell does he know? Shot in the back during a supermarket raid gone awry when he’d popped out to buy a newspaper and a some smokes. Commander John Rockford shot by a drugged up lil’ pipsqueak looking to get cash for his next score - what a legacy!

His death left a nice, fat pension for his mother who squandered most of it on a gambling addiction that she’d always had looming in the background of his childhood; the root of many a ferocious argument witnessed between his parents when they thought he was tucked up in bed, and he could literally hear the punch from his father’s fist make contact with his mother’s jaw.

But that didn’t stop the fact that his words clung to Tim like a bad shadow most days, even now, long after his theatrical send off like he was a Goddamned hero or something. He wasn’t; he was a mean little asshole with a bad temper and Tim had been glad to see the back of him, too sloshed to remember much of the funeral at all and cutting his no good mother out of his life soon after.

Tim swigs from the bottle once more, the sting dying out slowly and melting into an alkaline that soon tastes of nothing. It’s all nothing; emptiness and voids that are getting harder to fill. Disassociating himself from his shitty past life; from his first wife and her erratic behaviour, which took him years to figure out, was probably his erratic behaviour that had pushed her away and out of their home for good, not that he’d truly cared to notice.

Work all but consumed him. And he was happy to let it.

Of course, he’d gone to AA; out of town where nobody would know who he was - an upstanding pillar of the community, yeah right - talking about your problems, laying them all out there in front of a bunch of strangers who were just as fucked up as you were, was difficult because, up until that point Tim had never recognised or considered that he had a problem; just a mechanism he relied upon that helped him cope.

Having to take a moral inventory of himself and dig into the suppressed emotions he was hanging onto, and using them as an excuse to inebriate himself through the day, was hard.

The hardest thing he'd ever done, doubting he was strong enough to climb those twelve steps - and he wasn’t even really sure that he wanted to.

But he did; was sober for a while, until Rainie Thompson obliterated him.

He takes another quick swig after spotting Harman coming out the Gas n’ Guzzle and shoves it back under the seat covertly.

Harman finds Tim sitting as he left him, squeezing the steering wheel inside of his deft hands, over and over, trying to make sense of everything and when exactly the world had become such a terrible and unforgiving place - but is coming up short.

Gas stations are the most uninspiring places to get a decent cuisine that won’t make you shit ten tons the next day, but it's late; Detective Petey Harman is tired and hungry for just about anything right now, no matter how crappy it would taste or make him feel in twelve hours’ time as it burns through its exit out of his anal passage.

Once back inside the car, Tim scrutinises the large brown paper bag filled to the brim that Petey rifles around in, before pulling out a dire looking sandwich and handing it to his senior.

“You planning a sleepover with your girly friends or summin’?” Tim questions him.

There are several boxes of microwave pizzas, a bag of extra-large puffy marshmallows, various microwaveable meats in packet sauces that look questionable in their paleness, a jar of chocolate dipping spread and a large bottle of orange and pineapple Cactus Cooler.

“Nah... No girly friends for me.” Petey says, sombrely. “Weekly shop.”

“Well, watch your damned cholesterol.” Tim tears into the plastic packaging to be met with disappointment the moment he puts the sandwich in his mouth.

Petey can smell the waft of alcohol lingering in the car but he doesn’t mention it. Just like all the other times he's smelt it coming out of Tim’s mouth when he speaks, making his eyes water.

Petey was not long into being a newbie; a junior ranking officer in the department and up until a year ago or so now, had been making pretty good at busting low-level criminals successfully, to the point that he hadn’t really taken the gig that seriously, thinking at times he was invincible.

So much so that he had his thumbs in his belt loops and his shooter on show proudly like they do in Miami Vice as he and his reluctant mentor Tim, solved bleak mysteries together.

They’d stopped in for a burger break at Lafferty’s Grill on the day of Rainie being reported missing; talking about the pretty waitress giving Petey a lingering smile, and Tim trying to persuade him that he actually had a pair of balls and should use them to go and talk to her.

Instead, Tim was mirthed with disappointment as Petey's cheeks flushed a crimson red as he stared into his laminated menu, tacky with barbecue sauce residue, and tucking said balls firmly inside himself.

Petey had to grow up fast; he knew that the moment he’d heard Tim yelling at him crazily when he’d found the child’s remains whilst they scouted around for her aimlessly one night after Tim was trying for weeks to hold it together.

It was an image that still gave Petey nightmares, and the sounds of Tim sobbing still made his blood run cold when he thought about it, but it was far less frequent now.

He’d been promoted since to Detective, taking the job more seriously and knuckling down; his life coming up roses whilst Tim’s fell out the bottom of his ass.

Speaking of roses, Tim looks up mid-chew on something that the label assures him is tuna fish, and spots something red and velvety clustered in the window of the gas station.

He spies the date on the radio and sighs out heavily, tossing the sandwich back in the plastic packaging.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“You good? I got a BLT if you want that instead?” Petey asks.

"No. Fuck no. Wait, you gave me the shitty tuna when you had bacon?" Tim frowns.

"Was gonna save it."

With that, Tim exits the car, the driver side door squeaking on his beaten Pontiac and his trench coat billowing in the wind as he makes his way inside the gas station.

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a harsh glare over the rows of snacks and drinks lining the shelves. His weary eyes fall upon the sad display of the florals. A few wilted roses, their once vibrant petals drooping with neglect, sitting haphazardly in a cheap plastic bucket.

Tim grimaces, knowing they’re far from the bouquet you deserve.

His mind flashes back to the drawings of roses on Rainie Thompson's bedroom wall and how, for a time, they engulfed him, tracing his fingers over the waxy ridges of their messy circles.

Tim was sitting on her bed, clutching a stuffed bear with a plaid neckerchief that smelled of talc and her mother informed him the bear's name: Tim. Or Timmy. Timmy the Teddy.

He remembers squeezing that damn bear tightly as he took in the surroundings of the little girl's room, trying to work out where she was - where are you, baby? - When he spotted the drawings.

He kept one, pulling it off the wall and folding it neatly into squares until it fit in his wallet. A reminder that she would be with him, crying in his ear for him to bring her back home to her mommy and daddy.

She never stopped crying and wailing in his ear; the pitch growing until he drowned it out with the booze.

He remembers the pictures, full of clumsy scribbles, bulbs of red crayon petals and skinny green stalks. Kind of how the roses look now in the bucket staring out at him; a sad little gift from beyond the grave in their macabre despair.

He hears it again now, that crying, right beside him. He squeezes his eyes shut, a few moments of forcing it into white noise.

With a resigned sigh, he plucks a handful of the least wilted roses from the bucket and makes his way to the counter. The clerk eyes him curiously as Tim approaches, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of their lips.

Tim ignores the silent judgement, focusing instead on paying for the flowers and grabbing a bottle of wine from the shelf by the counter. The wine selection is vastly limited, but he purchases a bottle of red without giving it much thought and hoping it won't taste like sharp vinegar.

He pays for his thoughtlessness, and hurries back to his car, the weight of his guilt and exhaustion pressing down on him like crushing lead.

“Get out,” he gruffs to Petey as he starts the engine.

Petey gulps down his sandwich with a splutter. “What?”

“You’re walkin’ home tonight.” Tim announces with eyebrows knitted, and Petey rolls his eyes, fumbling with his shopping and splitting the bag in the process.

"Aww man. You're kidding me?"

"I gotta get home. You didn't tell me it was fuckin' Valentine's." Tim scowls.

"Big deal. It's just another day." And Tim can hear the bitterness of being single and alone awash in Petey's mouth with stale bread, lettuce and bacon.

"Out." Tim presses.

“Roses won’t cut it this time, Tim.” Petey whines, as Tim reverses before he can even shut the door.

He’s right. Despite his bumbling ineptitude, Petey’s right - it won’t cut it.

Tim can’t even believe the sight of the wilted roses sitting on the passenger seat, mocking him and reminding him of all of his failings to you. It wasn't always like this, he's sure of it. Somewhere in the recesses of his tempestuous mind, he knows you were happy; he made you happy at some point, right?

He remembers how happy you were when you exchanged vows and gold bands, gorgeous in your little lace smock dress, beaming up at him. Fuck, it seems like a lifetime ago.

Burgers and beers on the bonnet of his car, he had a chevy back then, and watching breathtaking sunsets, and going to the movies when he was off duty.

He would bring you roses then. Fluffy, sumptuous blooms that almost guaranteed him a bigger helping of your cherry pie with the perfect, sweet crust, and extra kisses that led to him detaining you in the sheets, reminding you that you had the right to remain loud, to scream his name when he made you come.

He brought you real roses back then. Not these... weeds.

It’s late, almost midnight which ironically, is the earliest Tim has been home in a long time.

With a deep breath, he gathers the roses in his arms and makes his way to the front door. As he pushes it open and steps into the warmth of your shared home, the scent of your perfume catches his nose making it twitch.

He remembers that scent, like a sucker punch to the jaw. As he inhales deeply, the memories come flooding back, transporting him to a time when life was simpler, when the weight of the world hadn't yet settled upon his broad shoulders.

He can almost feel the warmth of your hand in his, your laughter echoing in his ears like sheet music. The feel of his cock inside your wet tightness as he fucked you into the mattress and you clawed at the expanse of his back leaving red welts on his skin from your nails for days after.

You couldn't get enough of each other once, and now you're barely strangers.

He steps into the deep bellows of the house searching for you, and finds you on the couch, wiping frantically at swollen eyes that have obviously been crying.

And the guilt drowns him instantly, crushing him like a tsunami as he sees you there, small and withered, worse than the roses he dared to bring home to you.

Looking down at them and frowning, Tim is disgusted with himself. He tosses them onto the table wanting to be free of the wretched things.

He longs to spend time with you, his darling wife, but the relentless pursuit of justice consumes every waking moment, pollutes every free thinking thought.

You can only watch from afar as Tim pours himself into the work, and pours himself another glass to compensate for the scars it leaves.

You know he’s haunted by the very vestiges of unsolved cases stacking up on his desk that he never talks to you about anymore. Closes the files of grisly crime scene photos before you have a chance to see them.

He protects you from his work now, but consequently, and unwittingly, protects you from him, too.

Each night, you would leave a warm meal on the table and wait anxiously for his return, hoping that he’ll come home early to eat with you, your heart heavy with worry and your hair turning whiter in the process.

More often than not, you dine with bitterness and disappointment.

Often, you’d wake in the early hours of the morning to find Tim slumped in his armchair, surrounded by case files; his brow furrowed in comatose concentration, glasses almost fully sliding off the bridge of his nose.

An empty bottle always rusticates beside him on the floor.

You can’t remember the last time Tim slept in your bed with you. The last time he held you in those strong, broad arms of his that you know he has hidden under that trench coat.

You can't remember the last time Tim made love to you and whispered how beautiful you are in your ear with whimpering grunts as he filled you up.

Tim is crestfallen as he steps forward, the faint glow of something flickering on the dining table pulls his sight.

A candle, close to being exhumed by the deathly kiss of its barely remaining wick, and unopened boxes of now cold Chinese take-out litter the table.

“I ordered your favourite. Number seventy-three with a side of nineteen.” You sniff. "I got extra twenty-two because they always give us an odd number."

“Darling, I...” Tim stops, for he knows nothing he can say can absolve this. On the most romantic night of the year, Tim has failed you, yet again. “I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t, Tim” you raise your hand shaking your head despondently. “Just don’t.”

"I didn't mean to be late. Not tonight.”

A small ghost of a smile evaporates on your lips. “You never mean to be late. Yet you always are.”

“The case-”

“It's not about the case, Tim," you say, your voice foggy with emotion. "It's about us. About the fact that you're always putting everything else before me."

He notes the roses again, bearing witness to his shame; their haggard state mocking him once more and he curses inwardly.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he approaches as you stand, arms wrapping around yourself and glass cutting tracks down your cheeks.

“I packed a bag…” You say as his eyes follow yours to a small suitcase in the hall that he didn’t even notice when he came in. passed right by it, oblivious. And he suddenly wonders what else he's been missing all these years, as it registers in his gut.

“No.” Tim states with a croak in his throat. He shakes his head vehemently. "No, darling."

Tim steps forward, the suitcase filling him with terrific dread. "You're leaving me?"

You're surprised that he's surprised.

But you shake your head, tears falling freely now. "I can't do this anymore, Tim," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I can't keep waiting for you to come home to me. To open up to me and tell me what’s eating at you. I know it's something bad, something terrible. And I want to help, I do, I'm your wife. I want to make it better. But you make it so difficult. You push me away."

“To protect you.” He says with a low voice.

“Who's protecting you, Tim?"

"I don't-"

"I don't know who you are anymore. The man I fell in love with, he's... a ghost.”

“I…” words fail him as you look at him with a deep sadness that will stay etched on the thin fibre of his soul forever. A stain that won't wash out, no matter how much he scrubs.

You were the one. You're his one. And he's fucking losing you.

“Tell me, or I’m leaving... for good.” You warn. "If you ever cared about me at all, you'll tell me what's killing you. Please..."

You shake your head in despair, wiping your eyes harder now, when he doesn’t say anything. Just swallows the lumpy constriction in his throat and stares at you with hollow eyes.

"Goodbye, Tim." You sniffle.

“Rainie Thompson, she loved roses...” Tim mutters thickly as you approach the hall.

You stop, turning to face him.

"Who's Rainie Thompson?" You ask fearing the immediate worst.

You expect him to reveal to you that he's been unfaithful. That's he's not just been putting the hours in solely at work. That he brings roses - roses that are alive - to another woman. He eats her cherry pie now, fucks her into the mattress.

That he drinks because of the guilt of hurting you. But what he says instead alters a part of you that you don't think you'll ever get back.

“They look just how she drew them.” Tim says, his voice breaking, until his face caves in fully, features drowning in the onslaught of emotions, and for the first time you witness this unwavering man crumble completely.

And it terrifies you. For if he, the strongest man you've ever known, can break like this, what hope is there for you?

You rush to him as he collapses to his knees with a heavy thud, and wraps his arms around your waist, sobbing into the softness of your tummy.

You shush him and stroke your fingers through the greying curls, matted with sweat at the back of his neck. He holds onto you tighter than he’s ever done and you're afraid to let go of him.

Afraid that he won't ever stop bawling, as he mumbles incoherently and snottily into your abdomen.

Hours pass by, Valentine's Day gone in a blink of an eye, and you listen carefully and woefully as Tim recounts the haunting tale of Rainie Thompson, and how she's slowly killed the man you love.

You sit at the dining table with his thick, gun-calloused hands inside of yours, stroking over the ridges of his knuckles and listening to him swear to you that’ll get help with the drinking.

That he’ll take some leave and the two of you can go to the beach, or the lake, or somewhere where it can just be the two of you for a while.

Away from his cases, away from the horror of it all. Hell, he even mentions early retirement in his pertinent desperation, until you pat his hand gently and ground him with a stroking cup to his grizzled cheek.

You smile lightly as you gather the roses, and try to push aside your cynicism and wonder if you’ll regret not actually leaving tonight. Wonder if all what Tim has fed you is more empty promises when he'll eventually slip back into that expected monotony.

But you can see some swill of sincerity and regret inside the brown muddy pools of Tim’s tired eyes that you've never seen before.

He silently watches you pull the dead outer petals from the roses before placing them in a vase with fresh water.

“They’re already dead.” He mutters apologetically to you, shaking his head at the sight of them.

“Some things can come back to life, Tim, with some love.” You smile softly and Tim wants to just die in your arms right now.

“I don’t deserve you, darling.” Tim says, reaching for you.

He hasn’t yet taken off his trench, and you help it from his shoulders, the smell of worn leather from his holsters greeting you this close.

You've forgotten what he smells like as you inhale deeply. The scent of the leather leads a rugged and slightly musky undertone to his familiar aroma that’s swilled with coffee, cedarwood and sweat underscoring the gritty, primal edge to him.

You lick your lips as you graze your nose against the warmth of his neck, allowing him to finally crush you close to his broad chest, before the handle of his gun digs you uncomfortably in the breast.

He braces to kiss you, sweeping his lips delicately against yours, but you flinch. A reaction that slashes at Tim’s gut.

“Just hold me tonight, Tim.” You plead to him.

He nods, a solemn heaviness in his eyes as well as on his shoulders.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He admits.

Hearing him say it offers some vindication, but you know that these wounds need layers of bandages to be changed daily, and not some flimsy band-aids.

"I've missed you too."

“I’m so sorry for pushing you out. I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.” He takes your hand and presses it to his mouth, the soft scruff of his facial hair feeling like gossamer, and you'd almost forgotten the feel of that too. “I love you.”

And when he says it, your emotions hiccup out of you and the tears fall again.

“I love you, Tim,” you whimper.

He takes you in his arms, those big, strong arms, and leads you upstairs to bed where he makes good on his word and doesn't let go of you all night.

You fall asleep listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as he rubs your back gently, soothing you into sleep whilst he stays awake well into the night, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to listen to the dark thoughts urging him to finish that whole bottle of cheap wine downstairs.

He came so close to losing you today, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and he knows he has to do better. For all his faults, you love him and he spends the night pondering on that. Pondering when it was that he last slept in the bed with you, until his eyes fall heavy and he succumbs to a short, stunted sleep.

In the morning, he rises, stiff and aching from laying in the same position all night with you curled tightly in his arms. Amidst his back cracking and feeling stuffy in his slept-in crumpled button up and vest, Tim silently leaves the bedroom, careful not to wake you.

After pissing for what feels like an age, Tim catches sight of his face in the vanity mirror. White-gray stubble spreads across his chin and top lip, and the weary look of a man of the law that’s seen too much and knows too much weighing heavy around his sullen eyes, greets him.

He rummages in the vanity for some Tylenol and pops two in his mouth, swallowing them down without water. He re-shapes his oil slicked hair and tries to avoid the face looking back at him.

It knows all his terrible secrets, and now, so do you.

In the beginning the alcohol wouldn’t let him remember all the details, but its dropped its guard. The dreams were real; too real and he would find himself reliving the events each time he tried to get some damn shut eye.

He wasn’t supposed to keep seeing these things or to remember - it wasn’t part of the deal. Inebriation was supposed to wipe that shit out, but it'd failed to serve its purpose, instead serving as a beguiling wedge that expanded between you and him.

After descending the creaky stairs towards the kitchen, Tim passes the dining table en route to make some coffee; his tongue washing around dry, tight gums.

He spies his mobile and checks it out of habit; a message or two from Harman, one about a lead on one of their minor cases, and the other enquiring about his 'night of passion with the Mrs' and if it went well, and Tim simply scoffs. He makes a mental note to kick Harman when he sees him next. Preferably in the balls.

But out of the corner of his eye, Tim notices the vase of dead roses and stops to take in how they're now fully alive.

Overnight, their wilted petals have straightened and regained their vibrant colour, as if infused magically with a newfound vitality. The once drooping stems now stand tall and proud, their green leaves unfurling to reveal a lushness that seems to defy their previous state of neglect. Shades of crimson glow in the stale morning light, their hues deepening and intensifying the longer Tim takes them in.

Tim reaches for one, revelling in the soft velvet as he rubs it delicately between his finger and thumb. His eyes widen in disbelief at the transformation before him. It’s as if the flowers themselves are reaching out to him, a silent reminder of the resilience of your love and the power of forgiveness.

Some things can come back to life, Tim, with some love.

And Tim swears in that moment he’s never loved you more.

He swallows back a choke as he glances the wedidng photo of you both on the wall. Fuck, you looked so happy and beautiful that day.

Feeling a new sense of budding rejuvenation settling into his tired bones, a tiny bud, but one still seeding nonetheless, he turns towards the kitchen and then freezes, feeling it as his blood runs cold over his skin.

Prickles shoot down the back of his neck as he hears the sound, as clear as day. But it's different this time.

The haunting, yet wonderfully brilliant sound, of a little girl playfully giggling beside him.

Rainie Thompson isn't crying in his ear anymore, and Tim Rockford can't help but smile, closing his eyes as he listens to that sweet melody.

I found you, baby.

Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to know your thoughts and would appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #merge mansion #tim rockford fluff #tim rockford angst #valentines day #jett's writing #tw alchoholism #tw grief

221 notes · View notes

nyctoaerah · 23 days

Text

⋆♱⋆WISH GRANTED CH: 1

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS In which, you, a workaholic grade A detective has been investigating about multiple murder cases, found out that your boyfriend has been seeing your best friend behind your back. And due to your anger, you accidentally wished for your ex boyfriend and ex best friend to die—and they did end up dying. her boyfriend and best friend was found dead and brutally killed. and the person who did it was the same serial killer she was looking for, and no matter what her wish is, he ends up granting it in the most twisted way possible

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS Infidelity, Death, Yandere Behaviors (duh) Other triggering stuff.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS Yandere! Eyeless Jack x Fem! Detective! Reader

⋆♱⋆NOTE Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

TAKING OUT A PICTURE of someone who was reported missing from your briefcase, you smoothly placed it on the table. With a quick movement, you grabbed a red marker from your briefcase and decisively drew a bold ‘x’ across the person’s face.

“Another missing person that got killed,”

You let out a weary sigh as your eyes remained focused on Jhenicca, your closest confidant and fellow detective. Both of you were dedicated to solving crimes together, forming an inseparable partnership in the field. However, it was important to note that you held a higher rank and possessed more experience in comparison to your junior colleague, Jhenicca.

Jhenicca’s brows creased as her emerald green eyes bore into your [E/c] ones.

“Seriously? Another one?”

Jhenicca let out a deep, anguished groan expressing her displeasure at the fact that an increasing number of individuals were disappearing, only to be discovered lifeless later on.

“Yeah, seriously.” You uttered those words, your face devoid of any emotion.

“Ah, well, it doesn't really matter anyway.” Jhenicca uttered in a low voice, her eyes wandering aimlessly, diverting her attention from yours.

“Just give the damn information, [N/n]” Jhenicca asked for the necessary information and specifics during your conversation. You set the red marker down, signaling the start of a conversation that was about to take a somber turn.

“The victim was named Katarina Smith. She vanished four days ago after entering a forrest. Her lifeless body was discovered in an abandoned building inside the forrest,"

You revealed the information. As an exceptional and highly skilled investigator, you were entrusted with leading the inquiry into the mysterious disappearances, wherein the victims were consistently discovered with horrifying injuries or their vital organs, such as the kidneys, inexplicably gone. This disturbing pattern of events has persisted over the course of the last four months, leaving you feeling increasingly weary and overwhelmed due to the sheer volume of cases being assigned to you.

“We can go to the crime scene later and look for some evidence.”

You suggested and jhenicca nodded solemnly.

“So what do we know about the previous victims?” Jhenicca questioned you as her brows knitted, obviously disturbed.

You reached into your briefcase once again and pulled out a file containing the information you had gathered so far.

“There have been fifteen victims before Katarina,”

You began, flipping through the pages. “All of them went missing under similar circumstances—last seen entering a forrest, and then found dead on different sides of the Forrest.”

“Fifteen.”

Jhenicca breathed out and slammed her fist on your table, creating a loud banging sound and you sighed in exasperation, placing your hand on your forehead as your brows creased and your jaw locked.

“I know, i know.”

You mumbled, exasperated.

“Fifteen fucking people have been going missing for about 4 months now and we still can’t fucking get a single trace or clue about the perpetrator!”

Jhennica’s seethed with anger, clearly expressing her deep disappointment regarding the sluggishness of your progress. However, it is hard to deny her feelings, as you yourself are also disappointed with the current situation.

“Calm down.”

You tried to calm her down.

“What do you mean calm down?”

Jhenicca glared at you, running a hand through her blond locks.

“[Name]! We can’t go around relaxing when people are going missing and dying!”

Jhenicca exclaimed, causing you to feel increasingly frustrated. However, despite your annoyance, you made an effort to maintain your composure. Deep down, you acknowledged that Jhenicca had a valid point. It wasn’t as if you were idly lounging around; in reality, you had been pushing yourself to the limit, tirelessly working nonstop in order to achieve any sort of progress—And you were tired, so fucking tired.

Feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, you let out a heavy sigh, massaging your temples with your fingertips to alleviate the mounting tension.

“I know, i know” You spoke incoherently and indistinctly, barely making any audible sounds. “However, it is essential for you to regain composure initially, for it will enable us to thoroughly evaluate the circumstances at hand and make an accurate assessment."”

With a slightly narrowed gaze and furrowed brows, you expressed to her, causing Jhenicca to let out an exasperated huff and divert her gaze from you.

“Calm down my ass,”

She mumbles.

You experienced a sudden involuntary contraction in your eye, causing it to twitch.

“Cease behaving in such an immature and obstinate manner, don’t be a fucking brat” Feeling exasperated by her obnoxious behavior, you let out a disapproving sound while your level of professionalism momentarily dissipates. Jhenicca, in response, disdainfully looks away, disregarding your reaction.

“Fuck you.”

She glared at you.

“Fuck you too.”

Jhenicca releases a sarcastic laugh, displaying her annoyance towards the unexpected and abrupt eruption of emotions from you.

“Okay, whatever, but we still need to find any pattern or connection between these victims,”

Jhenicca made a suggestion, her voice hinting at a lingering annoyance. In response, you scornfully chuckled, casting your gaze downwards.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you took in a deep breath before quietly uttering a small apology for your earlier outburst.

However, Jhenicca breezed past your apology, choosing to disregard it completely as she proceeded with her speech.

“Do you think it could provide us with valuable clues regarding the murderer's identity? Is there anything notable connecting all of the victims that you've observed?” she asked.

Once you regained a sense of inner tranquility, you visibly expressed your agreement by giving a reassuring nod. Resting your hand gently upon your chin, you directed your gaze towards Jhenicca, deep in thought.

“The victims share several similarities among themselves. Firstly, they all belong to the young adult age group, specifically individuals in their twenties. Secondly, they had a common habit of visiting and spending time in the same forest. Lastly, their disappearances occurred exclusively during the weekends, further emphasizing this pattern of occurrence.” You provided a clear explanation.

“Based on the autopsy reports, it seems that their kidneys were removed post-mortem, suggesting a potential organ trafficking angle. However, the brutality of the killings indicates a possibly cannibalistic tendencies as well.”

You have provided an explanation regarding the reason behind those individuals having their organs removed. It is feasible to consider the possibility of a cannibal being involved, particularly since you had previously delved into the topic through various cannibal documentaries during your college years.

“We need to gather more evidence and dig deeper into the victims' backgrounds.”

You said, tapping on your chin.

“We need to find any connections they might have had, both among themselves and with potential suspects. We’ll also increase surveillance on houses that are close in that forrest, for they frequented in the hope of catching any suspicious activities.”

You informed and you were taken aback when, out of nowhere, the entrance to your workspace abruptly swung ajar, unveiling the presence of your beloved partner, Earl.

Earl is also a skilled investigator who happens to be employed within the same institution as you. He had a pile of papers held in one hand while balancing some cups of refreshing iced coffee in his other hand.

“Good morning, Love”he greeted with a pleasant tone, his words carrying warmth and friendliness. With a gleeful expression, he curved his lips upward, directing his gaze towards Jhenicca with the intention of acknowledging her presence as he nodded approvingly.

“Good morning to you too!”Jhenicca extended a warm welcome. You let out a frustrated breath and directed your gaze towards Earl.

“Kindly knock on the door to gain permission before stepping inside the room.” Shaking your head in dismay, you expressed your disapproval through scolding, while Earl nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, revealing his indifference.

“* apologize for the interruption, but I have something of utmost significance to share,” your partner apologized politely, presenting you with a substantial collection of documents and carefully arranging them on the surface of your desk.

“Really?” Jhenicca’s eyelids fluttered momentarily, as a reflexive response to stimuli.

“What is the matter?”

You inquired, fixating your gaze directly into the deep, mahogany irises of Earl.

“There has been an increase in the number of individuals who have disappeared, and upon closer examination, it is evident that the specifics align with the characteristics observed in the previous instances.”

As your eyes briefly skimmed across the pile of documents placed right in front of you, a complex blend of unease and exasperation manifested on your face.

The news you were presently receiving was far from ideal, pushing against your desire for a different outcome, particularly since you and your diligent team had invested an immense amount of time and effort into probing the perplexing string of disappearances that had preceded this moment. Jhenicca, noticing the identical emotional response on her own countenance, mirrored your sentiments precisely upon digesting the given information.

“Anyways, i brought some coffee for you, love,” As you observed, Earl gently placed the refreshing iced coffee onto your desk, and a sense of appreciation washed over you, causing a grateful smile to adorn your face while simultaneously feeling a soothing wave of relaxation engulfing your being.

“Thanks love—”

You initiated speaking, however, Jhenicca interjected, causing you to immediately cease speaking and keeping your lips sealed.

“No coffee for me? I’m feeling left out you know?” Jhenicca’s eyebrow arched in amusement as she voiced her playful disappointment regarding the lack of coffee being offered to her. As you observed the situation, a flicker of surprise crossed your face, signaling that you were starting to grasp the peculiarly close bond between Jhenicca and your boyfriend. A peculiar sense of discomfort started to take hold of you, yet you struggled to identify the exact source of this unease.

‘Since where were they this close?’

You pondered quietly as you watched the two interact.

Earl couldn’t help but chuckle in response to Jhenicca’s witty remark, as he placed yet another refreshing iced coffee on the desk, hoping to soothe her slight disappointment expressed through her adorable pouting expression.

With a wide smile, he uttered,

“Here, don’t sulk.” Jhenicca beamed with happiness as she conveyed her appreciation. Earl emitted a light-hearted laughter, brushing off the situation, which left you with an indescribable sense of being left out, lingering persistently within you. Earl comfortably took his place on the nearby chair, gently resting his head on your shoulder as he curiously asked,

“Anyway, love, Can you provide an update on the current status of the situation? Have there been any advancements in identifying and apprehending the person responsible for the incident?”

He asked and as you were preparing to articulate a response, Jhenicca abruptly interjected once more, causing a subtle expression of displeasure to form on your face. It became increasingly apparent that since Earl’s arrival, Jhenicca had consistently been interrupting your attempts to contribute to the conversation.

“Welllll”

Jhenicca said, making sure to stretch the word.

“Nope!”

Jhenicca’s wide grin appeared on her face, attempting to portray an endearing demeanor that caused you to cringe internally; she resembled someone who was seeking attention—a fucking pick me.

It would have been more appropriate for her to exhibit a serious demeanor, considering the gravity of the topic at hand. It perplexed you how she could switch from being angered to acting as cheerful as a ray of sunshine. The sudden shift in her behavior left you contemplating whether to request her to remain silent and allow you to express yourself, but you opted to restrain from doing so.

“Unfortunately, we’ve been giving it our all, but we haven’t found any leads,”

You finally explained with a sigh and Earl frowned once he heard that information, he felt disappointed.

You then took a deep breath.

“However, I do have a theory. It’s possible that the serial killer is also a cannibal.”

Earl blinked in disbelief, but he considered the idea.

“Really? That’s quite an unexpected twist.”

Before you could elaborate and explain all the details about your theory, jhenicca interjected once more so you just chose to remain silent, a tinge of annoyance crossed your expression but it quickly disappeared.

“I agree! I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Jhenicca said.

“Ah right! Do you know that there are similarities between the victims?”

Jhenicca began to converse with your boyfriend and as you sipped on your refreshing iced coffee, Earl glanced in your direction, expressing his acknowledgement through a subtle nod. Soon after, the two individuals initiated a conversation which took a meandering path, encompassing diverse topics.

However, a significant portion of their discussion revolved around the various homicide cases you had been diligently investigating. As you attentively observed Jhenicca and Earl engrossed in their dialogue, it became apparent that a strong connection existed between them. Unexpectedly, the serenity of the moment was abruptly disturbed by the sound of your phone ringing, breaking the tranquility in the air. Jhenicca’s eyes blinked, briefly closing and opening again.

“I thought you had your phone on do not disturb?”Jhenicca inquired, and you shook your head.

“Not quite. As a detective, every call or text holds significance, you should be aware of that,” you responded, slightly exasperated. Setting your coffee aside, you retrieved your phone from your pocket, and your eyes widened as you read the message. your eyes suddenly lit up and a faint smile made its way to your face.

Finally, an evidence, after four fucking months, there was finally an evidence.

“Ouch, so harsh.”

Jhenicca's expression turned into a pout at your stern words.

Your eye twitched in annoyance, caused by the tone she adopted. Normally, she spoke to you in a different manner, but this time it was almost childlike, which bothered you without any clear explanation as to why she was behaving that way.

Earl curiously asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s the headquarters. They’ve discovered some evidence at the crime scene,” you informed, and Earl hummed thoughtfully.

“That’s wonderful.”

Earl said with a smile.

“Really? That’s an excellent news!” Jhenicca beamed

“Yes, I’m glad too”

You replied with a closed eyed smile

Then suddenly, a phone call interrupted,you looked at your phone to see who called and it was the headquarters, perhaps they had something important to say and you couldn’t risk missing it.

“The headquarters is on the line,” you announced.

“Oh.”

Earl seemed disappointed since he wanted to talk to you more while jhenicca didn't have a reaction.

“I need to have a private conversation with them, so I’ll leave you two here,” you informed, gently shifting Earl’s head from your shoulder before standing up.

You planted a tender kiss on Earl's cheek, eliciting a smile from him.

“I won’t take long, don’t worry.”

You reassured him because you saw his disappointed face and Earl’s face lit up from your words.

“Alright, Stay safe,” Earl said, returning your smile as you made your way towards the office exit.

However, from the corner of your eye, you caught Earl discreetly wiping off the kiss, causing a frown to form on your face. And the way Jhenicca glanced at your boyfriend was different, stirring a sense of unease within you.

Your intuition was telling you that something was wrong.

Tension pervaded the atmosphere within your office, akin to an unuttered secret that lingered ever since your departure to answer the call from the headquarters. Earl’s face carried the weight of guilt, mirroring the guilty conscience that resided within him, while Jhenicca appeared unbothered, portraying an effortless and carefree demeanor that juxtaposed the tension.

It was astonishing to earl that he and jhenicca had embarked on this path. The hidden relationship between him and Jhenicca had been going on clandestinely for a significant period of nine months. Initially, it had been a mere coincidence, encounter in a bar where their paths crossed unexpectedly. However, as fate would have it, the influence of alcohol led them to hook up that night. From that moment, their connection deepened, and it evolved into an ongoing affair, causing Earl to experience overwhelming guilt for cheating on you.

“We are truly betraying [Name] by engaging in secret meetings,” Earl whispered, causing Jhenicca to recline comfortably in her chair, propping her feet up on the desk without a care, even if it meant potentially crushing important documents beneath her soles.

With a piercing gaze, she interrogated, “Between the two of us—Me and [Name], whom do you love more? Me or her?"

Feeling his throat tighten, Earl mustered the courage to respond, “You.”

Jhenicca let out an exasperated sigh, her frustration apparent as she exclaimed,

“Then what’s the big deal? We love each other, don’t we? Don’t worry, [Name] will never find out.”

...

As their conversation fell upon your ears, tears began to well up in your eyes, their meaning hitting you with full force. Suddenly, everything started to make sense. Their closeness, the way Jhenicca gazed at Earl with adoration, it was all clear now. They had been hiding their secret involvement from you, deceiving you right under your nose. The pain that came rushing over you was nearly unbearable, as the person you once loved and cherished had betrayed you with none other than your best friend. The mere thought of Jhenicca turning out to be a backstabber had never even crossed your mind. Clenching your fists tightly, you fought against the overwhelming urge to burst into the room, confront them both, and scream at them.

In that moment, your heart seemed to shatter into innumerable fragments, completely consumed by an uncontrollable whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, and most of all, a profound feeling of betrayal.

As you clutched your chest, your face contorted with pain, the weight of their conversation pierced your heart like a sharp knife. Earlier, you had received a brief call from headquarters, urgently instructing you to gather important documents and return to your office. Obediently, you started making your way back, determined to fulfill your responsibilities. However, fate had different plans for you that day. Along the corridor, their familiar voices reached your ears, luring you in with an irresistible curiosity. Against your better judgment, you couldn’t resist the urge to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Little did you know, the words exchanged between them would shatter your heart into countless irreparable shards.

The shock and disbelief hit you like a ton of brick. Anger immediately surged within you, a fiery mix of self-blame for not recognizing the signs sooner and directed towards those who had so callously betrayed you. It was all becoming too much to bear.

Overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions, tears welled up in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably. The pain you felt was indescribable, as if your entire world had come crashing down in an instant. Without a second thought, you hastily abandoned the familiar surroundings of the police station, leaving your colleagues behind. Although they called out to you with genuine concern, their voices only seemed like distant echoes in your ears.

Racing through the chaos of your own thoughts and emotions, you let instinct guide your trembling steps. The city streets blurred into a haze as you hurriedly made your way through the crowd. Every footfall was a desperate attempt to escape the anguish that threatened to consume you entirely. People glanced in your direction, their curious gazes fleeting, yet you were oblivious to their existence. All that mattered at that moment was finding solace.

Filled with a potent blend of frustration and exasperation, you hastily made your way towards the vast expanse of the parking lot, an irrefutable reflection of your inner turmoil. As your trembling hands grasped tightly onto the cold metal of your car keys, a surge of determination propelled you to forcefully insert the key into the lock, unleashing a resounding ‘click.’

Seeking solace within the confined space, you were driven to hastily enter your vehicle, forcefully slamming the door shut with an air of finality. Unchecked tears cascaded down your face, a poignant manifestation of the amalgamation of anger and heartbreak that tightly gripped your soul. “Can’t believe i’m so fucking dumb that i didn’t even get the hint,”

“I helped you, i was there for you, and this is your way of showing gratitude?” you exclaimed with sheer rage, your jaw clenched and your hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. The deluge of intense feelings engulfed every fiber of your being, causing your eyes to well up with tears as you were overcome by an inconsolable fit of sobbing.

“After two fucking years of our love story, you threw it all away as if it held no value or significance?” You were consumed with intense anger and frustration, directing all the blame towards jhenicca. Your anger escalated to such a level that it led you to harbor a desire for something that, upon reflection, you didn’t knew you would later deeply regret.

“I wish you two die in a painful way.”

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

You eventually drive away and returned home, consumed by anger, and unleashed your fury by destroying everything in sight: vases, picture frames, and the gifts Earl had given you. You smashed the vases, threw them on the ground and the wall, tore the pictures apart and ripped the gifts to shreds, you even trew your chair on the ground, and The room was now littered with shattered remnants of your rampage.

After four hours of relentless tears, your eyes were swollen and dry, leaving you devoid of any more tears to shed. Your throat felt parched, and fatigue washed over you, making you drowsy. Your break down caused too many destruction. And In the midst of this overwhelming exhaustion, your phone rang.

you grimaced.

“Probably that cheating bastards.” you muttered angrily, retrieving your phone and reluctantly opening it. The harsh light caused you to wince, but to your relief, it wasn't Jhenicca or Earl on the other end, but rather the headquarters.

With a mix of apprehension and frustration, you answered the call. A chill coursed down your spine as you listened to what they had to say.

“Your Boyfriend and Best friend was found dead.”

#ᯓ★Aerah’s works!#ᯓ★Y!EJ; Wish Granted #yandere x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x you #dark themes #cw: gore #dark yandere

112 notes · View notes

lume-nosity · 1 year

Text

if they get isekai’d to our world

characters: tighnari, nilou, yun jin, eula, aether, lumine, heizou, kazuha, xiao

genre: fluff

an: this is completely self indulgent and i may make a part 2 of this when i’m feeling up for it. take this post before i vanish again for the week. i’ll see you all again on the weekends <3

notes: not proofread, gender neutral reader, swearing, written in hc form so it’s short/weird, reverse isekai trope, written in one day

reblogs are appreciated!

trusting tighnari with your plants.

he’s experienced in the botanical area, so have him tend to them. it’ll also give him an opportunity to study/observe said plant(s), so just have him watch your plants when you don’t have the time. he’ll be very happy.

but if he finds out that you haven’t been caring for them before the isekai fiasco, he will scold you. and then give you a lecture on why and how you should care for them.

if you have like a book on plants/biology/anything plant related, he’ll be thrilled to read such a book from you. he will spend sleepless nights reading it, and you have to remind him to take it easy.

nilou, yun jin, and eula playing just dance.

nilou’s having a great time, ended up getting high scores while eula is flustered but she still maintains her graceful stature when dancing.

eula didn’t want to play at first because she’s suspicious of the game, but she was dragged into playing so she didn’t have any other choice. she ended up liking it but of course she doesn’t admit it. and yun jin is just glad she gets to be a part of it.

all of you are dancing the night away frfr

having venti listen to your playlists.

as it’s known, he knows every song in existence. but listening to your playlists, he’s surprised he’s never heard of such a tune before. because, you know, he’s not from your world.

but even so, it reels him in wanting more. so he begs you to borrow your phone to listen to your playlists, especially new ones you just made.

when you left your phone somewhere unattended and venti came across it, he looked both sides before snagging your phone off of its place to listen to your playlists in secret. ehe.

aether & lumine being your errand buddies.

if you’re planning to go out to run an errand like buying groceries or something, these two are the first ones to volunteer to help. i know they do everything in teyvat; doing shit for everyone and all that but this is different. when they got isekai’d, they’re reunited! (i’m going to ignore the abyss sibling bullshit okay let me write in peace i want these two to be happy)

so they’re returning the favor by assisting you in anything! even in your house, they still help you with chores and whatnot! which made you worry for them, so you’ve decided to arrange a time where you all could sit and chat. they talked about their journeys to other worlds, and you could listen to them talk for hours.

introducing heizou to true crime documentaries.

ohhhhh boy you know he will binge the SHIT out of them. now that he doesn’t have to deal with missing pets, he has something interesting to indulge himself in.

he ends up figuring out who’s the culprit before the show could even reveal who. which shocks you, if you’re the type to take a long time trying to connect the dots.

if you show him some unsolved cases, you know damn well he’ll look/watch into it. you have a smart detective on your hands, and if he ends up solving them as well, you must be writhing in pride that you and heizou are the only ones who know the truth.

kazuha asking you to go out on a stroll from time to time.

one time when he accompanies you and your errand buddies because he wants to see what your world looks like in addition to lending another hand, he wants to see that again. the wind, the sky, the view, all of that. it’s all unique to him.

so, expect him to ask you if you’d like to go out on a little stroll for a while. it’s an excuse for him to feel what your world would be like, to digest its features and compliment it all in a poetic sense.

most likely points out the colors of the leaves you guys walk by. he’s just blabbering about nature while you’re out here digesting his words and your mind turns into an actual tree from listening.

teaching xiao everything you know about your world.

yes, this seems bland, but listen. xiao is oblivious to how teyvat works in terms of tradition/humans, and now that he’s isekai’d to your world, you have to teach this poor innocent individual.

he needs information in order to adapt to this new world he’s not familiar with, knowing there’s not really a way out.

xiao is listening intently and nodding to everything you say, asking questions at the same time.

this isn’t part of the headcanon, but he’s also cautious when you say you’re going to go out at night especially when aether & lumine are busy with other matters. if that were to happen he will be the one to step in. no danger will befall you when you have a yaksha by your side.

#✏️ lume writes #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #tighnari x reader #nilou x reader #yun jin x reader #eula x reader #aether x reader #lumine x reader #heizou x reader #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #x gn reader

2K notes · View notes

ineffabletwaddle13 · 1 year

Photo

Holmes and Watson (and Inspector Lestrade) leaning on things. I caught a continuity error in the last GIF where Watson is perched against the table behind Lestrade but then he is leaning against the filing cabinet

In the Arthur Conan Doyle books Holmes leans back in his chair a lot but also leans against things sometimes:

The Adventure of the Second Stain: “He found Holmes leaning languidly against the mantelpiece”

The Adventure of the Naval Treaty: “leaning with his back against the shutters.”

#1954 Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes #ronald howard holmes #ronald howard #holmes and watson #doctor watson #inspector lestrade #221b baker street #the adventure of the second stain #the adventure of the naval treaty #the case of the Thistle Killer #the case of the Vanished Detective #the case of the Careless Suffragette #the case of the reluctant carpenter #the case of the Christmas Pudding #1954 sherlock holmes/ACD books #arthur conan doyle

36 notes · View notes

chiefdirector · 6 months

Text

Missing | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Tim Bradford was known to be many things. Hardass, stickler for rules, vengeful, angry. Words like these had been tossed around tirelessly to describe him. They would say how unfortunate it was for his rookie to be stuck with a Training Officer like him. If anyone met him today, they would think he was born stuck in his ways, a man destined to be encompassed by the negatives in life.

But, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't always like he is now. In what seemed like many lifetimes ago, Tim used to be full of joy and light. He used to joke around with his coworkers and enjoy the things life had to offer. That life was long gone, all of it a forgotten memory; all of it except the golden wedding band that hung on a chain around his neck.

Despite it going against the uniform policy, Tim never took the chain off. He tucked it under his uniform, keeping it out of sight. Sargent Grey had caught him with it once and tried to reprimand him but stopped himself when he saw the ring hanging there. He knew what it meant, and what it meant that Tim was still wearing it. It meant that he hadn't given up.

(Y/N) Bradford had disappeared on the job nearly two years ago. Despite the presumption not being legally binding, everyone said she had probably been taken out by the cartel she had been hunting. She had made quite a name for herself within the LAPD for her ability to disband gangs and negotiate for them to stop their business, or at least reduce it.

Nobody was surprised when she disappeared, nor her partner when they vanished at the same time. They had tried with all of their might to track them down, SWAT teams busted multiple suspected locations but to no avail. It was as if they had disappeared off of the face of the Earth. Tim had tried to lead as many searches as he could but Grey had intervened, saying that he was too close to the matter to think rationally. He was right, Tim was on a rampage, he would not stop until he found her, no matter what, or who, got in his way.

He never gave up, even when every intuition and gut feeling he had told him to stop, he only pushed harder. He dedicated every free moment he had to following up leads. The detectives on her case were useless, he couldn’t trust them, he couldn’t trust anyone bar himself.

But life went on, he woke up every day, he went to work, he went home. Little changed, he got a new rookie, Lucy Chen, and he continued on the way he always had: one day at a time. Lucy pried the information of (Y/N)’s case out of him on the second anniversary of her disappearance. Tim had finally snapped, hopelessness coursed through his veins as he knew he was no way closer to finding her than he was two years ago. What he hadn't realised though, was that having a rookie meant that he had a fresh pair of eyes on a case, eyes that could see details that he had missed.

Lucy had taken what Tim had told her about (Y/N) to heart. She knew how hard it could be to be without the one you loved, she knew how much this must have hurt him. She had requested to see the case files, it took an exorbitant amount of favours and promises but she managed to get copies of the records.

She could see why Tim seemed resigned to the fact that he would never get his wife back. All of the leads took her nowhere. She would have to explain to him why she had taken the files out, why she had gone behind his back, and it would all be for naught. Gathering up the files, Lucy began to head back to the records room when a post-it note slipped out of the file. She crouched, huddling the rest of the paperwork to her side in hopes that it wouldn't fly everywhere, and picked up the paper. Lucy hadn't noticed it the first time around. On it was an address on the outskirts of LA, she had seen the area a few times when BOLOs had gone out.

——————

“Just hear me out, please!” Chen begged, rushing along behind Tim as she tried to keep up with rapidly increasing pace as they headed towards their shop.

“About what?” Tim stopped and turned around to face his boot. “How you went behind my back to go through that file? About how you went to that address? Alone might I add. About how you endanger your life, and potentially hers too? Is that it, or am I forgetting something?”

Tim was right, he had every right to be mad; she had done all of that stuff. But she couldn't give up, not now, not now that she knew that-

“Well?” He snapped.

Lucy stood her ground. “Her partner was there.”

A beat passed as she watched Tim pale.

“What?”

“Her partner was there.”

“What about- was she…?”

Lucy took a step forward, reaching her hand to her Training Officer’s arm, trying to bring some form of comfort but he recoiled. “No, but he said that they had spoken. The last he heard, she was near the Mexico/Arizona border. He said that he would try to speak to her.”

Tim felt like the world had come to a stop. All this time, all this time and she was so close by. He could have been there for her, he could have stopped all of this hardship and hurt. He could have brought her home, back to LA, where she belonged. He could have brought her back to him. Questions spun through his mind. Was she okay? Was she safe? Did she know that she was declared missing? Had she had any contact with anyone else? Did she know that he had waited all this time for her? Did she wait for him? Tim tried to ground himself. She was alive, and that would be enough for now.

She was alive and he could live that.

| Part Two

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

#tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #time bradford imagine #the rookie #the rookie imagine #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

366 notes · View notes

boombox-fuckboy · 7 months

Note

Hey!!! You commented on my post about limetown haha which is why I’m here. You offered to give podcast recs! What are your favorites?? I’m looking for some new ones

I completely forgot I had this ask, excuse the delay. Here's a selection of 30 podcasts I enjoyed from a broad range of genres: hopefully at least one appeals.

Let me know if you're after something more specific.

Arden: (Investigative, Comedy) On the 25th of December, 2007, heiress and young actress Julie Capsom crashed her car into a tree and fled into a nearby forest clearing, leaving a trail that seemingly vanished into thin air, and a dismembered torso in the trunk. A decade later, Bea, the first reporter on the scene, and Brenda, a detective on the case, are hosting a true crime podcast about it, and neither is remotely impressed with what the other has to say. Arden is also a retelling of various Shakespeare plays.

Desperado: (Supernatural, Adventure, Horror Elements) In a modern world of gods and magic, three young people, all under the patronage of death dieties, embark on the same adventure for different reasons: for safety, for revenge, and to kill The Old Man in the Sky. Fantastic banter and killer action sequences.

The Far Meridian: (Magical Realism) An agoraphobic young woman wakes one day to discover her lighthouse home has travelled to somewhere entirely unfamilar. As this continues to happen day after day, she uses the opportunity to search for her missing brother. A really unique and charming piece of fiction.

Gastronaut: (Sci-Fi) Interstellar travel audio blog of a former food critic as he travels to an active warzone to get firsthand experience with unfamilar cuisine. ft. Disgruntled martian nobility, sinister businessmen, explosive mushrooms, forbidden snacks, rogue revolutionary artists, and the consequences of your actions.

Girl in Space: (Sci-Fi) The Girl In Space lives alone on a space station, doing science, making cheese, rewatching Jurassic Park, and tending to the plants, animals, and artificial sun entrusted to her. It's a little lonely, but not a bad life. Would be a shame if someone came along to ruin it.

The Goblet Wire: (Microfiction, Weird Fiction) A surreal microfiction with horror elements, taking the form of phone calls to an audio-based game in which the voice of the mysterious Dictator leads each player through fantastic and horrific world and story.

Hello From The Hallowoods: (Horror, Supernatural) A dramatic entity beyond your comprehension visits your nightmares to tell stories of the people (in varying degrees of human and alive) that inhabit the strange, deadly, and beautiful Hallowoods, as they find meaning and sometimes eachother.

Hi Nay: (Supernatural Horror) A year after moving to Toronto, sound designer Mari finds herself drawn into helping people around the city with various horrific supernatural encounters due to her babaylan (shaman) family background. It quickly becomes apparent that there's something much more sinister and complicated happening in the background.

Inco: (Microfiction, Sci-Fi) A perpetually exausted interstellar information trader and her peppy AI find a mysterious (read: bratty) boy floating in space and are inadventently pulled into a world political intrigue.

Inn Between: (Fantasy) Ever curious about what the D&D characters get up to at the tavern between sessions? A generally lighter-hearted (with some exceptions) with richly-written and always-growing characters. A really interesting format, too: a lot of the adventure appears in the "next time" and "last time" segments which makes it all flow really nicely. Not a tabletop podcast.

Janus Descending: (Sci-Fi, Horror, Tragedy) A xenoarcheologist and a xenopaleontologist are sent to a study a dead city on a distant world. Nobody likes what they find there. A unique format, with one set of logs presented first to last, and the other last to first. I'd recommend listening to the supercut for this one.

The Kingmaker Histories: (Steampunk, Weird Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy Elements) In the Valorian Socialist Republic 1911, on her 25th birthday, tailor's apprentice Colette experienced the worst headache of her life. As a result, she fleed from town with a human artificer and a fae chef - both now smugglers - pursued by an utterly furious flesh-crafter. I'm not sure I'm selling how good this podcast is but it's very good.

Life With Althaar: (Sci-Fi, Comedy) A human repairman moves to a space station on the edge of human territory that is perpetually on the edge of self-destruction, and ends up with a less-than-ideal last-minute roomate. Althaar is polite, friendly, deeply interested in human culture, and eager to be friends. Unfortunately he belongs to a species that sends humans into a visceral panic at a glance.

Lost Terminal: (Sci-Fi, Hopepunk) Seth is a very lonely AI living on a satellite. His crew were left stranded aboard with no hope of return, and it's been longer than he can count since then. The Earth below him has changed dramatically, and with only a few other AI down there to talk to, he's very lonely. But! He has a plan to make some new friends.

Love and Luck: (Romance, Slice-of-Life and Urban Fantasy Elements) Voice messages cataloguing two young men falling in love and opening a queer dry bar together.

Midnight Radio: (Light Supernatural, Romance) Sybil McIntyre, host of the ever-popular 1950's nightly radio hour, begins exchanging letters with an old fan who has reluctantly returned to visit Sybil's beloved town.

Midst: (Weird Fiction, Western, Sci-Fi and Fantasy Elements) The old-western planetoid islet of Midst floats, rotating steadily, in a sea of reality-warping darkness. Down in the town of Stationary Hill, things are in movement, and vistors from the light above are about to bring unanticipated change. ft a monocycle-riding monster-hunter, radio-famous airship paladins, deadly mica, the universe's peppiest cultist, good dogs, and a really strange businessman.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Urban Fantasy and Horror Elements) A friendly AI tour guide leads you on a tour of the Mistholme Museum, explaining the strange and often alternatural story behind each item.

Monstrous Agonies: (Supernatural, Relationship Advice) An interpersonal advice show for supernatural entities and other people living liminally in the modern world.

Night Shift: (Urban Fantasy, Investigative) Set in a modern world with the addition of magic, which manifests in small inherited skills/traits, can warp people in horrific ways, or can be manipulated with the right science (and intense work) to induce superpowers. Sebastian Fenn is a barista at Night Shift Coffee, but since things are slow he's decided to start a podcast to talk about various mysteries, crimes and conspiracies around the city, and of course finds himself deeper in them than he'd intended.

The Pasithea Powder: (Sci-Fi, Thriller Elements? I think?) The last major interplanetary war was full of atrocities, but none more infamous then the creation of Pasithea Powder, a memory altering drug which was used to horrible effect and landed it's entire team of creators in prison. So when decorated war hero Captain Sophie Green sees one of them wandering free, worlds away from his prison, she gets in touch with a very old, estranged friend: one Dr. Jane Gonzalez, who's behind bars for the very same reason.

SCP: Find Us Alive: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Horror and Slice-of-Life elements) You don't need to know anything about SCP to enjoy this. A research team gets trapped in an underground research facility when the complex collapses and the building is dragged into a pocket dimension. The tear it was designed to study begins creating tiny copies of itself, generating strange entities the team needs to deal with. And as if that wasn't enough, the entire situation physically resets itself every 30 days. And yet, this is genuinely also an office comedy.

Second Star to the Left: (Sci-Fi) Audio logs of a scout sent to explore and establish early infastructure new world, and the communications with the minder in charge of keeping her alive.

Seen and Not Heard: (Slice-of-Life, Drama) Seen and Not Heard follows Bet, who's still adjusting to life a year after a bout of severe illness, and the resulting hearing loss it caused. It's about the ways we make connection, and food, and art, and different kinds of grief.

The Silt Verses: (Horror) In a modern world where gods are abundant, frequently both commercialised and restricted, two devotees of an outlawed river god go on a pilgrimage.

SINKHOLE: (Sci-Fi, Weird Fiction) Forum posts from a data restoration community in a near future where the human brain is its own computer and one city hosts a massive void.

Starfall: (Fantasy) Seeking to escape her mysterious past and find some purpose, a young swordswoman joins a travelling actor's troupe. This new life is unfamilar and sometimes stressful, but she's taken under the wing of stagehand Fel, who's determined to help her feel welcome as she experiences the figurative and literal magic of the theatre for the first time.

The Tower: (Weird Fiction) A low-key, meditative podcasy about a young woman who decides to climb a seemingly endless tower. Gorgeous sound design.

The Vesta Clinic: (Sci-Fi) New GP Dr. Fae Underwood, with the expert transcription skills of resident AI Sec, writes up patient reports on human and alien patients of The Vesta Clinic, a medical clinic on the edge of human space. Really comfy and creative.

Victoriocity: (Steampunk, Mystery) Set in the steam-powered Victorian city of Even Greater London, an aspiring journalist and a tired detective find themselves working together to solve a strange murder. I say Victorian but as queen Victoria is now an extensive grandiocity of cyborg components following seven only-kind-of-successful assassinations, you may need to adjust expectations a little.

262 notes · View notes

fruity-mega-coconut69 · 1 year

Text

The Quiet Kid Pt. IV

[pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reed!Reader

[Summary]: The others have to put the new-found information about you aside as Ghostface once again, strikes.

[Warnings]: mentions of blood, swearing

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, yes? “

They look at you with wide eyes, mouths hanging open. It’s Bailey who speaks first. “ What the fuck? We don’t have any files on you anywhere. “

Mindy nods along, seemingly agreeing with him.” Yeah, and- and the reports on Kirby’s sister just vanished almost the very moment they got published. How did they access this? “ Kirby stares at the scene developing before her then decides to step in.

“ Hey! I know that…this information may come as a surprise for most of you, but we have other things to worry about, okay? This, “ She points at the reports, newspapers and the knife in the display case. “ can fucking wait.” They all slowly nod their heads and go to their own business.

You turn and look at Kirby. “Thanks. “ She smiles at you, and nods.

“Of course. You are my lil’ sister after all. “ You scoff but chuckle at her nonetheless. Then, you look up to see Sam standing on the stage, in-front of her father’s robe in the glass box, Tara behind her. You sigh and decide to head towards them, and it seems that everyone has the same idea as you soon find yourself on the stage with them.

“So,” Chad speaks up. “ somebody killed these chuklefucks and took over? “ He looks at all of you then her gaze lands on Gale, waiting for an answer.

She nods briefly and looks around at you guys. “ Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro.”

“If this were a normal Stab movie, this would be the killer’s lair. '' Mindy says with a serious tone.

Kirby’s jaw clenches. “Which means, this isn’t a normal Stab movie.”

You look down at your shoes and shake your aching head as your heart pounds in your chest. Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps leaving the stage and look up to see Tara hurrying out of the area. Your eyes widen and you immediately follow behind Sam as she goes after her.

“You okay? “ Sam asks Tara and you lean against the wall, watching them.

“Sam, when do I get to be a normal person again? “ As those words leave her mouth, your heart breaks a little with every one of them. You swallow hard and grit your teeth together.

Sam takes a breath then looks at her sister with some sort of softness in her eyes. “ I don’t know. “ she shakes her head.

Tara’s eyes well with tears. “I don’t wanna be a part of this. “She says, slightly shaking her head. “ I don’t want to be a part of some stupid legacy because I’m–” She doesn’t get to finish as Sam speaks.

“Because of me. “ Tara stops and looks at her. “I’m sorry. '' Sam whispers quietly, desperation can be heard in her voice.

“Just drop it, Sam “ She turns and runs up the stairs. You push your body off the wall as Sam calls after her.

“I-I’ll go.” You say and Sam looks at you then nods. You head for the stairs, giving a friendly smile to Sam as you pass her. When you enter the room Tara is in, you realize it’s the auditorium of the theater. Then, you notice her sitting in one of the chairs and head over, sitting beside her.

You take a deep breath then let it out as you purse your lips. “ I-.....know how you feel. I don’t want to go through this shit again, but…..I’m afraid we might be the only ones that can stop that….sick psycho. And, you can be mad as long as you want after it, but in a situation like this? It’s better to not show fear or you can't show your vulnerability. Okay? Can you do that? ‘Cause I really don’t wanna die. “ A small smirk takes its place on your face at the end of your speech.

Tara sniffs and giggles at you. “Okay. I think I can do that, yeah.”

“Good” She looks at you, her eyes soft as they drop from yours to your lips. Your breath hitches when you notice and you can feel your face heat up. But the moment is interrupted by Detective Bailey and the others.

“Sorry to interrupt. “ You roll your eyes, but look at him anyway. “ I think I might have an idea about how to turn the tables on this creep. “ At that you perk up.

Gale nods. “Yeah, we’re in. “

Kirby turns to her from beside Sam and smiles. “Sorry, Gale. No press allowed. Police business. I’m good at my job too.” She puts her hands up and shrugs. You stifle a laugh as you look at Gale’s face.

— —

A little while later, you guys are in the park. Kirby in a van with Mindy, Chad and Ethan while you are with Sam, Tara and Bailey out in the public. You are walking with Sam and Tara when the younger Carpenter turns to you. “ You should have just stayed with your sister. Would’ve been a lot safer. “

“Uh, yeah no. I…..think I’m good.”

Sam looks at you two with raised eyebrows then looks away and sighs. “I agree with Tara on this. There is no point in all three of us putting ourselves at risk. “ You just shake your head with a smile.

“Too bad then. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere near that van.” Tara looks at you as you grin at her. She can’t help as butterflies erupt in her stomach and she matches your smile.

A couple of minutes later, you are walking around the lake when Sam’s phone rings. The three of you stop in your tracks and Sam takes the phone out to look at the caller ID.

Richie Kirsch

You take a deep breath and look around as Sam accepts the call.”You’re gonna die, you know.” She states, calmly speaking into the phone.

“No, you’re gonna die, Samantha! Choking on your own blood while I hack up your sister.”

Tara frowns and looks at you then back at Sam. “Unless we find you first. “ Sam spits, angrily.

“For a mastermind, you’re not very bright. “

The three of you look around endlessly, trying to look for him. “Waiting for me to call, desperately hoping I’m nearby so the police can grab me? “ Your breathing picks up when you can’t seem to find him and Tara notices, taking your hand in hers gently, giving it a light squeeze. “But I’m not nearby. I’m a step ahead. Be seeing you, Samantha.” The Carpenter’ sister’s look at each other as the call ends, panic in their eyes.

“Did you get it?” Sam asks Kirby through the earphones.

“Yep.Geolocation coming through right now. “ There is a pause and your eyebrows knit together, waiting for her to continue. “He’s on the upper West side. He’s inside an apartment building halfway across the city. “

You feel a lump forming in your throat in realization then you speak. “O-On West 96th? “

“How did you know that? “ Your vision is blurred with tears as you look up at Sam, shaking your head.

She looks at you for a minute then clenches her jaw. “Gale”

You, Tara, Sam and the detective start running and Sam takes her phone back out. “ My friend Danny works on the upper West side. He can get there quicker. “

Bailey shakes his head in disapproval. “Or he could finish her off. Is it possible he is the killer? “

“Fuck, we have to get there now. “

“ It’s 50 blocks away! We don’t even know if it’s true!” He pants as he runs a little behind you guys. “Sam, wait, take a minute. “

At that, Sam turns around to him. “ We don't have a minute! “

Bailey looks at her with a warning look. “You have to trust me. We got to make the right call. “

“He’s already–”

“Sam! Y/N! “ You hear suddenly behind you guys and turn around to see Tara seated in the detective’s car. “Get in. “You and Sam run to the car and you get in the back as Sam takes the passenger seat. She rolls up the window, ignoring Bailey’s yells.

She sighs and looks at Tara. “Should we use the sirens? “

Tara smirks at her. “ Did you really think we’d steal a police car and not use the sirens?” You smile as she turns the sirens on and you reach behind yourself to put on your seatbelt.

“Fuck yeah. “

— —

You flinch as Sam busts the door to Gale’s apartment. The three of you rush in to see ghostface on top of Gale, his arm in the air ready to plug his knife into her. “Hey, fuckface! “ Sam screams as she picks up the gun from the ground and starts shooting at him until he runs away. You immediately run to Gale and kneel beside her, your hand on her wound in second to keep pressure on it. Blood coating your fingers as you do so. Tears are streaming down your face when you look at her.

“Hey, yo-you’re going to be okay. Alright? I- I’m gonna- “ Sam interrupts you by bumping into you as she and Tara also kneel beside her. Gale groans and you let out a sob. “ I'm sorry. I’m so sorry. “

Gale shakes her head at your words weakly. “Don’t be kiddo. It’s okay. “ She stutters out then looks at Sam.” he didn’t get me. Tell Sidney, he never got me. “ She starts to slowly close her eyes and you look down at her with a terrified face.

“Gale? Gale! Goddamn it! Gale! “ You wail and scream as you sob. Then you feel firm arms around your shoulders and Tara whispers in your ear from behind you when she notices the paramedics coming in.

“Y/N, hon, you got to get away. Come on. Y/N. “

You lose your body strength, but Tara manages to pull you up with the help of Sam who is also crying then takes you in her arms, pushing your head into her shoulder as you sob. She rubs the back of your head and tangles her fingers in your hair, trying to comfort you. That’s when you hear one of the paramedics say. “ Got a weak pulse. “ And that was all you needed to finally take a deep breath and wrap your own arms around Tara.

“It’s going to be okay. “ Her soft voice whispers to you as she looks at the journalist lying on the ground, unconscious.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #scream fanfic #jenna ortega x fem!reader #scream franchise #scream vi

549 notes · View notes