Sheriarty One Shots (Adapted Version Of Da Music Meme) [REQUESTS TEMPORARILY CLOSED]

+10: Sweet Serial Killer -Lana Del Ray [REQUEST]

+10: Sweet Serial Killer  -Lana Del Ray [REQUEST]

Request from @the_east_wind

I'm not sure if this is quite what you meant about POV switches but I included both their POVs and 3rd person, like you asked. Anyway, all, enjoy!

-

The first thing I ever killed was love. I killed it during the night. And not just any love. I killed my own parent's love. Watched as it bled and died in front of me. Oh, I love watching things die. It's just... a thrill.

Watching my parents and their sickly love die was the beginning of me and I'm so glad I took that knife in hand, tip toed into my parent's bedroom and plunged the knife into their chests, laughing as they squirmed and gasped in a desperate attempt to go on breathing.

*

Gosh, it's fun. Sitting here; watching all the bodies drop one by one, watching those still up panicking and looking around like a lost child, watching my men stand by the door and ignore them all with small, pleased smiles on their faces.

This is what I live for.

*

Playing him always sends thrills down my spine.

It was impossible to keep a smile off my face when I met him in that pool. It still sends shivers down my spine when I remember the way he almost blew us all up. That would have been a great end for us.

I love a good romantic death. Watching the love leak out of existence more and more with each drop of blood that drips to the ground.

*

Faked it. Of bloody course he did.

But you know what that means..?

I get to watch him die all over again!

*

I think he stole my heart when he pulled that trigger. If only I could have been there to watch the man with so many sides to him put a bullet in that Magnussen's head. Oh, what a thrill that would have been!

I can't wait to see him dead at my feet...

Might have to kiss him first, though.

*

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Red splashes over the grey floor.

"Marvellous, isn't it?" I murmur.

*

I watch with a smile as the blood oozes beautifully from the cut. The gash in his skull is traumatising and utterly gorgeous. The bright red paints his forehead, the contrast on his pale skin something better than I ever imagined.

Lifting a foot, I stand on his arm and press down. His cry of pain is incredibly pleasing. Music to my ears.

I sink to my knees and watch as his eyes start to droop, the life leaving him against his will. He's different to the others. He's not struggling. He's looking at me and all I see is acceptance in his eyes.

Leaning down, I press my lips to his.

When I go to move away, I feel a pressure on my neck. Looking down, my eyes find his gun.

"Stalemate" He murmurs.

I smile. He pulls the trigger.

*