Request- Parrish fluff with Argent!Reader please?
A/N- So this was probably longer than it need to be. Sorry it took so long for me to write it, but enjoy!
Warnings: Kidnapping, torture.
"Parrish."
The Deputy blinked, looking over his shoulder from where he stood in the middle of the office. The Sheriff swallowed when he caught sight of the circles under Parrish's eyes. They were dark and swollen, making him look much older than he actually was. It wasn't like this was a surprising sight, because the young deputy had been sporting them for weeks, but it still unnerved Stilinski.
He had been camped out in this tiny office for just as long, going over incredibly thin case files and making phone calls that reaped no results.
"I think I'm close," the Deputy told him, looking back at an evidence board, which only contained a few pictures and some missing persons posters. "I talked to a woman earlier. Her daughter has been missing for months. I know she was a runaway, but-"
"Parrish-" the Sheriff began.
"Hear me out, sir-"
"Jordan," Stilinski said gruffly, causing the Deputy to pause. "Maybe it's time to work on other cases."
Parrish opened his mouth, ready to protest vehemently, but he realized he didn't have it in him. Instead, his voice came out as a cracked whisper. "She's only been gone for a month."
"A month and a half," the Sheriff corrected him. "You've been so wrapped up in this case, son..."
Parrish looked back at the sparse evidence board, the one with your picture plastered in the center. It was true, he realized. You had been missing for a month and half. The first few days had seemed to drag on and on as he searched for you. It hadn't taken long for someone to find your car in the grocery store parking lot, but it was Parrish who had realized you were missing. Every day after that seemed to pass as a blur, with time moving so quickly that anything could be happening to you.
With most of your family dead and your father in Mexico, helping out some hunting family, you didn't have many people close to you. Scott and the rest of his friends acted as a bit of a surrogate family to you, but you didn't typically spend every minute with them unless something was going wrong. For the past few months, Beacon Hills had been relatively quiet, so you hadn't seen them much. The only person you even saw regularly was Jordan himself.
He remembered the first time he had met you, when you had come to the Sheriff's station to bail out your father and Derek Hale. Your sister Allison had still been alive back then, and he remembered the playful glint in your eyes when he began to hand back the weapons he had confiscated from your father.
"I can't let you take this," he had told the older Argent, eyeing the man from behind the counter.
"It's just a taser," your father had stated.
"Just?" the Deputy questioned.
"It's mine," you had announced, leaning over the counter. "My dad was just holding it for me."
"Yours?" the Deputy had asked with raised eyebrows. "This thing is a few watts short of being a light saber."
Parrish remembered the small tilt in your lips and they way you had raised your eyebrows at him. "A girl has to protect herself, Deputy. You never know what's out there these days."
Parrish swallowed roughly at the memory. That was the first time he had seen you, but it definitely wouldn't be the last. After you sister died and the Deadpool began, you had been spending a lot of time at the station. Once all the chaos with the Nogitsune had subsided, he learned that you came from some kind of werewolf hunting family. You didn't kill innocent people for sport, and you were actually trying to help, something you ended up doing quite a lot of at the station.
After surviving the assassins, you ended up spending a lot of time with Parrish, despite the lack of a supernatural threat. You had been helping him figure out what he was when you went missing and now he was determined to help you. You had admitted one night at his apartment that he was probably your best friend, and then grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt and pulled his lips against yours.
You had only been officially together for a few weeks before you had disappeared from the grocery store parking lot. The incident was so out of place for a town like Beacon Hills. It was normally a place plagued by monstrous attacks by supernatural creatures, but after having Scott and Stiles check out the scene of your kidnapping, they couldn't find a trace of evidence that your attacker wasn't human.
With no trace of the supernatural and no scent to catch, it seemed like finding you was more of a job for the police department than Scott and Stiles. Of course they were devastated, but after searching and searching, they hadn't been able to find anything. Now, most of the officers Parrish worked with were convinced they were looking for a body.
"She's still alive," Parrish stated, his voice breaking. "She has to be...and I'm going to find her."
The Sheriff sighed. He didn't know if Parrish was right, but he knew one thing. If anyone was going to find you, it would be him. And knowing Parrish, he would never stop trying.
"Y/n, wake up!" a voice hissed in your ear, causing your eyes to open.
You quickly sat up on the soiled mattress, eyeing the girl next to you with an inquisitive expression.
"He's coming back down," Calla told you, her green eyes bitter and scared.
You swallowed, your eyes flicking up to the creaking steps. Light fell across the dingy floor of the basement as he came down, carrying a large shape in his arms. Your stomach immediately turned over as you realized what it was.
Shit, you thought. He had taken another girl.
The man who had kidnapped you walked down into the basement, grinning like the crazy bastard he was as he dropped the girl onto a mattress several feet away. She was unconscious, but you could still see her face in the dim light, and catching a glimpse of her features only made you feel sicker. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.
You could also see that she was bleeding profusely from her head, probably a direct result of being slammed into something to knock her out. Even though you knew it wasn't a good idea, you jumped up and started to go toward her. Whether it was your big sister instincts that still had yet to die or the fact that you didn't think anyone this young should end up in a place like this, you couldn't stop yourself from moving toward her.
Before you could cross the room, your captor grabbed you roughly by the arm, wrenching you closer on shaky legs. "Did I tell you you could get up?"
His dark eyes bore into yours as he held you there, and you could smell his body odor. He was a large, scruffy man who, despite installing a shower down in the basement for you and Calla, seemed to have trouble using one himself.
"She's too young," you protested, hating yourself for not fighting back, for not spitting in his eyes right there and then.
His fingers darted out, roughly grabbing your chin and leaning closer to you. "Is someone jealous?"
A wave of disgust ran through you as he leaned in toward you, his breath fanning across your neck. He reached up to delicately run his fingers across your stringy hair, and you wanted nothing more than to reach up and shove him away, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to do so.
"Don't worry," he whispered, causing you to shiver. "I'll have some time to be alone with you later, but for now..."
He shoved you to the ground roughly, causing you to wince as you hit the cement floor. "Tell her the rules."
With one last nod to the unconscious girl, he backed away from you and headed back up the stairs with a smirk on his face.
"Oh god," Calla whispered, her eyes filled with horror.
She had been curled up on the mattress in the corner of the room, shrinking away from your captor, but now she was even more terrified. "I'm next. There's a new girl. He's going to kill me."
"Calla..." you began, but you knew it was true.
That was what had happened to the last girl, almost right after he had tossed you into the basement. You didn't really understand why he only kept you for a few months, but you were assuming he got bored. You had seen your sister die in front of you, but watching someone get strangled to death was different in so many ways, especially because you would have had time to stop it, if you had been strong enough.
All you knew was that he only liked to keep two girls, and if his history had proven anything, there wasn't room for Calla anymore. You didn't even know his name, yet this man had followed you out of the grocery store that night, cornered you in the darkened parking lot, and knocked you out with a stun gun. You hated that you hadn't gotten the chance to fight back. You had been distracted and excited, and thinking about meeting Jordan after his shift. You never should have gone out that late, but of course you had been reckless and cocky.
Your recklessness seemed to be a pretty prominent trait after Allison's death, mostly due to the fact that you hadn't felt like you had much to live for. As the months went on, the charming Deputy slowly began to change that. You remembered the way he had held you that night in the station, long after the ambulance had taken Allison's body away from Oak creek.
"Can I get you anything, Ma'am?" he had asked softly. "Some coffee maybe?"
You had nodded mutely, rising from your chair to follow him into the break room. He began to tell you that he could get it, but you had waved him off. You needed to get up, to get away from Stiles, Isaac and Lydia, who were sitting broken and silent in that depressing line of chairs.
Parrish had fixed the coffee for you, handing it over. You grasped it weakly as you stood there in the silence, but it wasn't long until it slipped from your fingers. The Deputy quickly reached out and caught it as it fell, gently setting it on the countertop.
He opened his mouth to say something, but you burst into tears before he could utter a word. Without saying anything, he brought you into his arms and walked you over to a small couch.
"I-I'm sorry," you gasped between sobs. "I can't...I can't..."
"You can cry," he had told you softly. "If anyone has a right to cry, it's you."
"I'm-I'm not like my dad," you sobbed. "I can't hold it all in. They-they need me. They need me to be strong."
Parrish was silent, because he knew nothing was going to make you feel any better. Instead he sat there for half an hour, holding you tightly as you cried, drenching the shoulder of his uniform in tears.
You wished you could just talk to him now. You wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, gentle and reassuring, telling you that you were stronger than you thought. You knew he must have been searching everywhere for you, and as much you wanted to get out, there was a part of you that didn't want him to find you. Would he still want to be with you when he heard the things this man had done to you?
A soft gasp drew you from your thoughts and you looked over to see the younger girl rising from the mattress. She had dark hair and light, tired eyes. "W-what's going on? Where am I?"
You rose to your feet. "You're in a basement in a house in Beacon Hills. Do you remember being kidnapped?"
The girl swallowed. "A little. He promised me a free meal. I thought I knew what he wanted when I got in his car, but...he knocked me out instead."
You sighed. "What's your name?"
She frowned, thinking about it for a moment, like she wasn't sure if she should tell you. Finally she whispered "Liana...is he going to kill me?"
"Not if you do what he says," Calla said from her mattress.
You and Liana both looked over at her. She was slightly shaking, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. "I don't want to die, Y/n. I know I deserve it. I ran away. I made all these awful choices, but I don't want to to die."
"You won't," you told her firmly, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. "We're getting out of here before that happens.
"What?" she asked, her green eyes wide. "You know we can't. Steph tried before she-"
"It was just her though, right?" you asked, thinking back to the girl who had come before you. She hadn't lasted very long, according to Calla. "There are three of us now. We could take him. Maybe if we could find something..."
"There's nothing down here," Calla protested.
"We'll find a way," you swore. "Calla, you don't deserve this. No one does. Even if we don't get out, someone will come looking."
"No one is going to look for me," Liana said softly. "I already know."
You felt a pang of sadness as you stared at her. She was like a lot of the girls that had been down here, as Calla had explained. Most of them were on the streets, just trying to survive. You seemed to be the only outlier, but you had a suspicion that you were just a victim of opportunity.
"Y/n's boyfriend is a cop," Calla said. "He has to be looking for her."
"I doubt they've found anything," you whispered. "He was wearing gloves when he grabbed me. He wouldn't have left fingerprints."
"Still," Liana said, brushing some blood-stained hair from her eyes. "If he loves you, he's not going to give up on you."
You tried to smile, but your lips failed to turn up at the corners. You had been gone for two months, and if Jordan hadn't found you yet, you didn't know if he ever would. Cala had been here for about twice as long as you had, and you knew you were both running out of time. You just hoped Liana was right, because you didn't know how much longer it would be before your captor decided to kill you too.
"Today?" Calla whispered in your ear, as boots began to thunk down the steps.
You looked over in the corner, eyeing the pile of rotting firewood that had been sitting in the darkness. It wasn't the best weapon, because some of it had broken in two in your hands, but it was better than anything you had. You had each hidden a piece of it underneath your dirty mattresses, hoping for an opportunity to catch the man by surprise.
"Today," you agreed as he came to rest at the foot of the stairs.
He held a few protein bars in his hands, and your stomach twisted sickeningly. It was all you seemed to have eaten for weeks on end, and you knew if you ever got out of that basement, you'd vomit if you had to eat a protein bar again.
As you stared at the food in his hands, you realized that there were only two packets. You watched as he tossed one to you and Liana, but not to Calla. That was when you knew that he was planning on killing her.
She gave a horrified gasp as he stepped closer, scrambling back in fear. "Easy, easy. Come on now, Calla."
"No," she whispered. "No."
"Shh," he told her, at the same he pulled a knife from the pocket of his jeans. "I'll make it quick. You know I make it quick."
You saw the glint of the knife in his hand, and you don't know why he had decide to change from strangling to stabbing, but seeing that knife awakened something inside of you. The thought of another girl being run through like Allison seemed to light some kind of fuse in your brain, and before you knew what you were doing, you had pulled the piece of firewood from your mattress and darted forward, slamming it down over his head.
The man yelped as the wood broke in two on his head, wood chips raining down into his greasy hair. Unfortunately, it had much less of an impact than you thought it would. He turned to you in rage, leaving Calla huddled up on the mattress.
He swung toward you with the knife, but luckily you weren't incapacitated by a stun gun this time. You blocked the blow easily, pain radiating through your malnourished bones. You quickly mouthed for Calla to run, and she darted up from the mattress, heading up toward the stairs. Her bare feet hit the wood just as the man began to go after her, but you quickly jumped up on his back.
He screamed in rage and tried to shake you off, causing you to hit the cement floor just as you saw light pooling on the floor. Calla had opened the door.
The air flew from your lungs as your back hit the ground, and you were sure you would die for a split second, before he took off up the stairs.
"Fuck," Liana whispered. "Y/n? Are you okay? Y/n?"
She knelt over you, her dark hair dangling in your face. You nodded weakly, slowly regaining your breath before sitting up. You soon heard the slam of the door, hard enough to make the house shake, and then another roar of anger.
"You think she got away?" Liana asked, pulling you to your feet. "That was badass, Y/n."
"I hope so," you breathed, just as the door to the basement opened again. You swallowed as the footsteps raced down the stairs, and you jumped up just in time to see your captor looking angrier than he ever had.
"You little bitch," he snarled at you.
Liana shrank away from you, but she wasn't fast enough, and soon the back of his right hand was cracking against her cheek. She yelped and stumbled back, just as he darted forward and grabbed you by the throat.
"She got away," he spat in your face.
"You were...gonna...kill her," you choked.
"But I didn't, did I?" he demanded, his fingers digging bruises into your skin. "It doesn't matter. No one will believe a junkie, and no one's going to come looking for you. It's just you and me now, so you're gonna take her place."
You struggled as he pulled the knife from his pocket again, tracing it over your face. "And lucky for you, I can do this all day."
"So," Scott said, drumming his fingers on the edge of the jeep's passenger side window. "Are you taking Malia to the spring formal?"
"Eh, I don't know," Stiles told him. "With everything that's happened...it just wouldn't feel right."
"Yeah," Scott said softly. "I know what you mean."
Stiles frowned as he drove, thinking about everything that had happened in the short span of a school year. Scott had become an alpha, Allison had died, and you, her sister, had gone missing. Your dad had pretty much up and left, although he had to give Mr. Argent credit. He had returned to Beacon Hills the minute he got word that you were gone without a trace.
Stiles was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the shape darting out into the road, until Scott yelled, "Stiles look out!"
Stiles let out a short scream and slammed on the breaks, his poor tires skidding on the asphalt. There was a woman frantically waving him down, although her haggard appearance made her look a lot older than she probably was. Her face was dirty and tearstained, and her torn jeans were caked in grime. As they hopped out of the car, the boys could also see that she wasn't wearing any shoes.
"Please," she begged, before the boys could even speak. "He-he was trying to kill me. I have to tell someone. I-I have to save her. He's gonna kill her. She's going to die."
"Who?" Stiles demanded. "Who's going to die?"
Scott took a deep breath, but the smell that hit his nose caused him to lose his breath. He knew the answer before the woman even spoke.
"Y/n," she breathed. "Her name's Y/n. He took both of us and another girl. She helped me escape, but she couldn't have gotten away. Please, you have to take me to the police."
Stiles nodded quickly, fumbling for his phone. "Okay, we'll call them."
"Stiles," Scott said softly. "Make sure they bring Parrish."
He was sitting in his office when the Sheriff received the call. He saw several other officers get up and he knew something was happening, but whatever it was, he didn't want to be a part of it. He couldn't go out in the field knowing he could be doing something at the station to help you. He also wasn't sure if he wanted to go into a dangerous situation when his mind was somewhere else. That was how people got killed.
"Parrish."
The knock on his door caused him to sigh. "Sheriff, I think I should sit this one out."
"Oh, I think you don't," Stilinski told him.
"What?" the Deputy asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Scott and Stiles were driving to school when a woman practically jumped in front of
his jeep. She was running from the woods, claiming she had been kidnapped and held in a basement for four months. Said the guy that took her was trying to kill her."
"What does this have to do with Y/n?" Parrish questioned.
"She said that another girl down there tried to help her escape. This woman, Calla, got out, but the other two didn't. Can you guess what one of their names was?"
Parrish felt his throat constricting with hope as he rose from his desk. "Did you say Calla? That woman I talked to a few days ago, she was calling about her daughter. That was her name."
The Sheriff nodded. "Grab your gun, Parrish. I never should have doubted you."
Your breath came in short gasps as you writhed on the floor, trying to do anything you could to get away from the man on top of you. Blood was dripping from your head from where he had slammed you into the cement, bruises were beginning to form on your cheek, and he hadn't even begun to use the knife yet. You were already so weak, and you knew you weren't going to make it out of the basement alive.
Liana was in the corner, tape over her mouth and rope around her wrists as she tried to look away from what was happening. He had only tied her up to make sure that there were no more "incidents".
"I made a mistake with you," the man on top of you breathed, running the tip of the knife across your cheek. "Too many people are looking for you. You've also been nothing but a pain in my ass."
"Then just kill me!" you spat, shoving against him with weak limbs.
He chuckled darkly and leaned down. "No, no, no. This is going to be slow."
Without warning, he sliced a thin line across your cheek, causing you to cry out. Your vision was swimming from the blow to your head and like you had told him, you partly wished he would just kill you and get it over with. You could feel the knife slicing into your skin again, this time on the other cheek, and you closed your eyes.
You thought of Parrish's eyes, light green and reassuring, and you wished you could look into them now. You missed him more than he would ever realize. You missed Lydia too, her and the rest of Scott's pack. You wished you had reached out to them. You wished they were looking for you now.
When you heard the door to the stairs slam open, you realized that maybe they had been all along. You opened your eyes just as the man before you looked up in rage, and there might have been a little fear mixed in there too.
"Put the weapon down!" You heard a voice command.
You captor looked down and raised the knife, causing your eyes to widen in fear, but before he could bring it down, the crack of a gunshot rang throughout the dingy basement. Blood spurted from a wound in his chest and he fell backward, hitting the cement floor on his back, much in the same way you had a few hours ago.
You watched in shock as blood bubbled from his mouth and the light left his eyes. He was dead. He couldn't hurt anyone ever again.
"Y/n," you heard a voice breathe.
You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and looked over, only to find Jordan standing at the bottom of the steps, gun still raised.
"Jordan," you croaked, your voice coming out as nothing more than a whimper.
"Oh god," he breathed, shoving his gun into its holster and coming toward you.
You were still wearing the same clothes that you had been abducted in, and you looked as if you had barely eaten for the past two months. Your jeans were covered in grime and there were heavy circles under your eyes, but Parrish had never been happier to see you. Your eyes were wide and startled, and the Deputy could see that you were shaking slightly. He knew he was supposed to be the strong one right then, but he couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes as he brought you into his arms.
You clung to him as he wrapped you up, burying your face in his familiar uniform. The sobs that left your chest were uncontrollable, just like that night at the station after Allison had died. But this time Jordan wasn't silent. He mumbled to you soothingly, letting you know that you were going to be fine, that he had never stopped looking for you.
"I knew you were still alive," he breathed into your dirty hair. "I knew."
You buried your face in his shoulder. "H-he was going t-to kill me."
"It's okay," he murmured. "He's dead now. He's not going to hurt you."
More footsteps were already thundering down the stairs and you looked up for a few seconds to see Sheriff Stilinski and a few other officers untying Liana. She met your eyes and nodded gratefully at you.
"Can you walk, Y/n?" Jordan asked you.
You nodded, but as he pulled you up, you found your knees buckling.
"I've got you," he assured you, scooping you into his arms.
You wrapped your arms around his neck. "Is Calla okay? And...and my dad? Is he still in Mexico?"
"Calla's fine," Jordan informed you. "Stiles and Scott actually almost hit her with their car. She ran onto the road and she's the reason we found you."
"Scott and Stiles?" you asked with wide eyes. "It's always those two, isn't it?"
"Yep," he said with a soft laugh. "And as for your dad, he came back the moment he heard you were missing."
"Do you think I could see him?" you asked as he carried you out to the ambulance.
You blinked in the sun, sensitive to the light that you hadn't seen in two months. Despite the discomfort, it felt like a miracle to be outside. You swore to yourself that you would never set foot in another basement again.
"Of course. I'll call him as soon as you get checked out."
The Deputy set you down the stretcher and moved back as the two paramedics moved in sync around you. He hopped out of the back and stood aside as they questioned you about your injuries and advised that you should probably be driven to the hospital. You nodded, but quickly called out "Jordan?"
Parrish looked up, flashing you a reassuring smiled. "Yeah?"
"Will you come with me?" you asked. "Please?"
"Of course," he told you. He climbed back into the ambulance as one of the other paramedics hopped out to go up front.
"Jordan," you said softly as he reached out to grab your hand. "Thank you. For saving me, for not stopping trying to find me...for everything."
He leaned forward as the doors of the ambulance closed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You're welcome."
You leaned against him, your cheek pressing against his chest as you closed your eyes for a few brief seconds. You might have been through hell, but Jordan had pulled you out of it. If you were being honest, you had started to lose hope, but luckily he hadn't. And as he held you there in the back of that ambulance, you couldn't be more grateful.