One Chicago Imagines

Eighteen Pt. 2 - Hank Voight

Major Trigger Warning!!!

Blood

Death

Guns

Sorry, this one is coming so late. I have been working on it for about eight hours on and off since I got back from class today. This one is more of an Intelligence x reader one and less of a Hank x daughter reader one. But there's still definitely some in and I will classify it as that. Anyways request are still open and I'm working on previous ones because I do want to break them up if they are similar. Thank you for 7.9K reads! Keeping voting and reading:)

A ghost town of living people.

3,860 Words

"And just as she once again began her journey around the room looking for the purple-haired spitfire screaming erupted somewhere throughout the room, Y/N could have sworn she heard the word 'gun' come out of someone's mouth.

But that didn't matter, because her body was already meeting the hardwood floor of the house party as her brain was overcome with sleep".

The scent was the first thing that Y/N noticed.

The smell of hand sanitizer, the overly chemically clean smell was burning her nose.

Next was what she was feeling.

She wasn't in her warm cozy bed. The soft light purple sheets and her satin pillowcases were one of her favorite things in her bedroom.

No, she was in a scratch starchy bed, wrapped uncomfortably tight in the thin sheets,

The sound was next.

The soft hum of her fan in the corner of her bedroom was not heard.

But she could hear a faint beeping sound and footsteps coming in and out of the room. Muffled voices full of concern were also fading in and out.

This went on for a while, she had no concept of time at this point because the entire time her eyes remained closed.

Her next sense of sight was not happening.

No matter how hard she tried she couldn't open them.

This went on for a while, she tried to move her fingers to grasp the thin sheets and continued to attempt to pry her eyes open.

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The same thing was happening.

Everything she had been experiencing.

Y/N was trying to wake up, trying to get someone's attention.

And she was getting frustrated.

All she wanted to do was see her dad again.

Her brain was fighting so hard, the internal conversations were making up for the lack of outward physical struggle.

And then, she heard what she had been fighting for.

Her father's voice, calling out to her.

She whipped her head around and she was back there.

The house from graduation night.

She was standing there looking around, it was trashed. Heels were discarded everywhere and jackets were scattered on the furniture.