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#i stick em in the detectives story

aria0fgold · 1 month

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Okay last post before sleep cuz ngl though I'm not gonna put Conan in p5 simply cuz there's Too Many Things going on with him that I'd have an easier time with Kaito instead which also, can yall see the problem then? Conan and Kaito is similar in that they're both pursuing and being targetted by a dangerous organization, Kaito is at risk a lot more considering how he's practically putting himself out there with his heists as Kaito KID while the times Conan gets in danger is when he tries to get closer to any of his org nemesis' henchmen for evidence, which doesn't happen often.

But despite that Conan has A Lot of reliable allies, Kaito included (not really on the "reliable" part but more on the "ally" part). While Kaito only has Jii-san which is the same guy making the KID gadgets for him and Conan (again not a "reliable" one for Kaito but still an "ally"). And like???????? What about Kaito's other allies? I'm not counting the group Kaito got pulled into by his childhood friend which is a group made to Catch KID and not help 'Kaito.' Like, what kinda allies are that, Aoko only wants to catch the magician thief, Hakuba is... Hakuba (he can be an "ally" but like Conan, not a reliable one), and there's that... witch who never really does anything much to help but give out warnings. (I forgot her name holup... AKAKO! There we go).

Compared to Conan who has like, a lot, and most of em are spoilers so if whoever reading this wanna get into dcmk, feel free to skip. There's Agasa that's the one creating the gadgets for him, Ai who knows his secret and is practically in the same boat as him (since she was a scientist from the org that wanted out yet shrunk too), Heiji which is like his bestie who's a fairly good detective, THE AKAI FAMILY (That entire family is a mf unit bro, there's a FBI sharpshooter, a mom that's a mi6 agent, another highschool detective with skills on par with Conan that knows jeet kune do, a shogi master that's also insanely good at strategizing in general. Like bro, wtf), Furuya Rei aka Amuro Tooru aka Bourbon-- Also a wtf moment there. CONAN HAS PROTECTION FROM VERMOUTH, one of the most important members of that same organization he's pursuing. Vermouth refuses to hurt and especially kill Conan and Ran.

Like, that kid has it all meanwhile Kaito DOESN'T HAVE ANYONE??? The treatment here. So yes, I'm only putting Kaito in p5 cuz he deserves ppl to be there for him if there's barely anyone in his own source material. (Maybe I'd even put Hakuba in p5 too, as a treat, cuz he's also gotten the short end of the stick too). Hakuba can be with Akechi to put some load off his back with the addition of Another thief getting added in their universe except Hakuba is also a menace of his own way so honestly, good luck Akechi.

#aria rants #wai a sec i aint forgettin bout the fact that tho conans parents are also Horrible and mostly #absent from All That is practically going on. when it counts. conan can call em for help and like #his dad is an insanely good detective and his mom is an insanely good actress that also knows #how to do disguises LIKE???? man. i just realized how bad kaito's situation is when put side to side conan's #my guy doesn't even have any reliable allies bro like what he gon do during the big confrontation???#his dad is ASS. his mom doesnt even visit him and is living in ANOTHER COUNTRY #her son is in a deadly situation and shes out there chilling someplace far away like GOD #someone save kaito actually. like tbf... well like no confrontation gonna happen yet #considering that gosho only started to pick up magic kaito again after like so many years #like... maaaaaan. he rlly did get the short end of the stick bro save my son yall #am happy he picked the story up again but also like-- gayum. crossing my fingers this #doesnt turn out into another conan 2.0 or a mini conan 2.0 where it spans on for years #okay this got long and fr did end up as a rant. whys my brain so active whenever im sleepy

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thebiggerbear · 27 days

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The Ghosts Are Coming For You Chapter 2 - Beau Arlen x Reader

Pairing: Beau x Female!Reader; Beau x Female!Detective!Reader

A/N: Sorry this took so long but I'm a pita sometimes when it comes to the mapping out process and setups. A huge thank you to my beta, Em, for all of the brainstorming sessions we had where she would listen to me rant and rave about this chapter as I beat it into shape like a pillow under your head that won't cooperate. She unfortunately didn't have time to do the final process of beta'ing this time around but she did spend a lot of time helping me mold this into what it is so I want to thank her for that. Again, apologies for another long chapter. I did contemplate splitting this into two shorter chapters but in the end, it felt right to keep it altogether for the setup's sake. Future chapters will not nearly be this long. Thanks for sticking with me on this ride. Hope this came out okay.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Songs mentioned in the chapter: Knockin' Boots by Luke Bryan; I'd Love To Lay You Down by Conway Twitty

Disclaimer: Let me just say up front, I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Also, this story is going to take place over a few months. Some things might be delayed or appear illogical to not have been thought of before they take place in the timeline, but it’s purely for story purposes.

Tl;dr: I made shit up.

Warnings: mentions of deaths/murders; mentions of abusive relationship; mentions of emotional/psychological, physical, and verbal abuse; angst; a little sexual tension; a little flirting/teasing

Word Count: 16k+

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Series Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @superrey; @fromcaintodean; @stoneyggirl2; @lacilou; @zepskies; @perpetualabsurdity; @deansbbyx; @syrma-sensei; @globetrotter28; @roseblue373; @angelbabyyy99; @hobby27

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @birdiellie; @illicithallways; @muhahaha303

You glanced at yourself one more time in the mirror of the bathroom at the precinct, smoothing down your dress and checking your make-up one last time. You and Jack had just pulled up to the station no more than half an hour ago.

You’d been called out on another case earlier in the day. Thankfully, this one didn’t appear to be connected to the one from this morning. Instead, it had been a home invasion that had gone badly and the homeowners had been found shot to death, by their college-aged daughter who had been returning home from a late night out. You tried to put the traumatized girl and the victims out of your mind, but you knew the former’s heart-wrenching sobs were just as likely to haunt you as much as the images of her dead parents would. You silently promised her exactly what you promised every other loved one in the cases you worked: you’d do everything you could to find the ones responsible and put them away for good. You just hoped you could deliver in this case, and that it hopefully might bring some small measure of peace for the young girl whose parents were now gone and who she had to make funeral arrangements for. Thankfully, her aunt lived nearby so the woman had been on the scene almost as soon as the responding officer had been. You were relieved that the daughter wouldn’t have to face all of this alone.

You took a deep breath and stared at your reflection, forcing yourself to change thought tracks and focus on your upcoming date with the County’s sheriff. Your nerves were slightly on edge; you hadn’t been on a date since you had been living in New York. Not a real date, anyway. Jack’s girlfriend, Cecilia, had kindly tried to set you up a couple of times with single guys she knew in the first couple of months you’d been here, but both blind dates had been full blown disasters. Your heart hadn’t really been in it, anyway, and you were convinced that you just weren’t destined for love or family or any of those white picket fence dreams everyone else had. You were married to your job, could even get obsessive with it at times, and that would just have to be enough to sustain you. Besides, after your last relationship, you almost tended to prefer it that way.

You just hoped this dinner went well, even if it didn’t end up really going anywhere. You could do with a friend around here, someone other than Jack, who you could maybe meet up and have a beer with every now and then. Someone who understood the job and wouldn’t take it personally if you had to cancel last minute because you got a call you had to respond to. Someone who could help distract you from the daily horrors that plagued your mind and maybe lighten up your darker times. Plus, you could now have a contact in the Sheriff’s department if you ever needed to reach out for anything relating to a case.

And even if things got awkward, at least you could have a drink and you had a very handsome sheriff to feast your eyes on. You’d never admit it to him but the cowboy thing really worked for him and it did do it for you a little. Though you sincerely hoped he left the Stetson at home this time.

There were many reasons to look forward to this dinner, and barely any to dread it. You swore to yourself that you would have a good time, no matter what, and you would relax for the evening.

You did some last minute adjustments to your hair, blew out a breath, and left the bathroom. When you stepped into the squad room, you heard a wolf whistle coming from the corner desk. “Fuck off, Taylor.” You flipped the younger man the bird, ignored his commentary, and braced yourself when Jack turned around in his chair to face you.

“Nice.” Jack gave you an approving nod, taking in the soft waves of your hair, your simple floral-patterned dress, your light-handed make-up, and your appropriate length heels. “You got a hot date or something?” He teased.

“Shut up,” you muttered, making your way to your desk.

Your partner laughed, knowing from your response that he was right. “Cecilia is going to love this. Who’s the lucky guy?”

You bit your lip, packing your things into the purse you’d grabbed from your car earlier. You always kept an emergency bag of clothes and necessary items in your car; you had learned that a spare change of clothes and a toothbrush were good to keep on hand for those long nights you worked or for the occasional damage that was done to clothes you were wearing while on the job. This may be a smaller town and it may have a smaller budget, but thank God they had showers. They had saved you more than once, especially when it came to mud or…other things.

You glanced around the room and mumbled, “Sheriff Arlen.”

You knew Jack had heard you because his dark eyes were as wide as saucers. “Come again?”

“The sheriff.”

“But I thought he and Jenny Hoyt were—”

You glared over at him. “Well, apparently they’re not. He said as much when he asked me to dinner.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So he asked you out at a murder scene,” Jack teased. “Sounds about right.”

The scowl that plastered itself onto your face would have terrified any other man. You reminded yourself that while you could probably kill him and make it look like an accident, that would be hard to do in a room full of seasoned homicide detectives who were sitting only a few feet from you. Not to mention, you’d need to find a new partner and there was no way in hell you were sharing a car with someone like Taylor every day. You’d go to prison first.

He held his hands up. “Kidding, kidding. I was kidding, Y/N. Come on.”

“Not funny.”

“It was. A little bit. Seeing as you’re always working. How else would he be able to ask?” When your glare didn’t let up any, he decided to ease up on you and cleared his throat. “You know, I was wondering why he was so chatty with you all of a sudden. Can’t say I blame him, though.” Jack inclined his head towards you. “When you clean up, you clean up nice.”

You gave him a look. “Thanks ever so much, Jack.” Whatever little confidence you’d managed to scrounge up in the bathroom before was now completely deflated. You knew you looked nice, but the little joke he’d made had taken the wind right out of your sails. Jack was just being Jack, you knew that; he meant no harm. He had no idea how close to home his words had actually hit. He was just ribbing you like always, no more than any of the other guys here did on a daily basis.

“Hey, I was trying to compliment you,” he laughed. “So where is he taking you?”

“A steakhouse in town. He said they serve the best ribeye in the county.”

He nodded in approval. “Nice. So this is like a real date, huh?”

“Think so.”

“You and the sheriff. Who would’ve thought?”

“Shh,” you hissed. “Keep your voice down.” At his questioning look, you added, “I don’t want anyone else knowing about this. If Taylor found out, he’d never shut up.” You could immediately see the flaw to your plan having Beau pick you up at your job. Guaranteed many people would see you and your coworkers, including Taylor, were bound to find out anyway.

“Well, I’m flattered you told me, I guess.”

“You should be,” you insisted, glancing towards the clock and seeing it was 7:30 on the dot. You grabbed your purse and started to make your way to the door, hating the way your heels clacked loudly against the floor.

“Have fun,” Jack called. “If you need me to pick you up, let me know.”

“Thanks,” you called back, flipping Taylor off again for good measure. The guy was now making actual barking sounds. You supposed you should be grateful that he hadn’t actually made his way over to you to try his cheap come-ons on you like usual.

“Oh, a word of advice.”

You stopped and turned back to Jack, who leaned a little closer in his chair towards you, keeping his voice low.

“If the handcuffs come out at some point, and knowing you they most likely will, make sure to keep the key nearby. You don’t want to have to call 911 because you left it on the dresser. That would be one embarrassing emergency call to make.” He smirked, shooting you a wink.

You placed a hand on your hip, glaring at your partner. “Darcy, how you continue to get laid on a regular basis is beyond me. Cecilia is a damn saint and someone should thank her for her service.”

The bastard had the nerve to laugh. “I do. Every single time.” His grin widened and you felt ill to your stomach.

Making a face, you waved a hand to dismiss him and turned back around. “Bye.”

“Remember,” Jack called. “Keep it nearby!”

You shook your head but didn’t respond, instead continuing your trek out to the parking lot.

Once you stepped outside, you did a quick scan of the area and found the man you were looking for. He was in a different car this time, a rust-colored truck that had definitely seen better days.

He had just turned to look at the entrance when he spotted you, eyes widening slightly. He hurried to get out of his car and began to approach you. You decided to meet him halfway, thankful there wasn’t really anyone milling around at that moment.

Before he could get a word out, you noticed the new look right away.

“You changed,” you accused.

“So did you,” he pointed out, his eyes roving over you.

You nervously smoothed down the skirt of your dress with your fingers. “I wasn’t sure if there was a dress code where we were going. I should have asked. Is this okay?”

He nodded, a slow smile forming on his face. “More than okay. You look amazing,” he breathed.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, you look great, too.” You took him in and definitely liked what you saw. No hat, a button-down that hugged him in all the right places, jeans, short brown wavy hair that looked to be the right length for you to run your fingers through (among other things), a touched up beard from earlier, and a warm grin. “So you put the cowboy away.”

He chuckled and you could swear you could see a faint pink color dusting his cheeks, though it wasn’t easy to tell in this light. “A little bit.” He gestured towards his cowboy boots, making you let out a quiet laugh.

“I like it.” You gave him a kind smile; you truly did like what you saw.

His smile grew and he held out an arm in invitation. “Shall we, little lady?”

“Oh no, you didn’t.”

Chuckling once more, he lowered his arm and moved closer. “Too much?”

“Way too much.”

This time, he held out his hand to you in offering, and tried again, giving you his most charming smile. “Ready, Beautiful?”

Choosing to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, you placed your hand in his and gave him a nod of approval. “Better. Still needs work, but better.” You could feel the warmth of his skin seeping into yours and you almost wanted to intertwine your fingers with his to feel more of it, but that would be too forward of you and might make things awkward. You hadn’t even gone on the date yet. So instead, you smiled when you felt the strength of his grip and let him lead you wherever he intended to go.

He started towards the truck. “Already, you are one tough woman to please. I hope this isn’t a sign of how the rest of our night will go,” he quipped.

“Depends on how hard you work to please me.”

His eyes snapped to yours and seeing your teasing grin, he shook his head, looking away, clearly amused. “I really got myself into something here, didn't I?”

“You did,” you laughed.

“You know, they say you East Coast girls can be difficult to satisfy.” You noticed the twang purposely deepen as he teased you back.

Once you reached the car, he opened your door for you. “You know, they say you Texan cowboys never met a challenge you didn’t like.” You moved past him, not missing the smirk on his face and the shake of his head, and slipped into the passenger seat. He closed your door for you and you rearranged the skirt of your dress by the time he joined you inside.

He turned a smile on you. “Ready?”

You returned it and gave him a nod after having buckled your seat belt. “Ready.”

You watched as his smile broadened and he started up the car, thinking this date was already going better than the other two you’d had since coming here.

It should have hit you that you’d allowed him to pick you up rather than insisting on meeting him at the restaurant. This way in case things turned out as they had both previous times, you had an easy escape should it be needed. But there was something about the sheriff that had you throwing most of your caution to the wind for the evening. Something just so inviting, as if he were the sun and you wanted to be in his orbit, no matter how temporary it might be.

Beau turned the radio on and Luke Bryan’s voice carried from the speakers and echoed throughout the car. “Boots need knockin’, knockin’ boots, knockin’ boots, me and you, oh” You saw his cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink as he quickly changed the station, clearing his throat quietly. When Conway Twitty’s voice floated through with “But I won’t talk of starry skies or moonlight on the ground I’ll come right out and tell you I’d just love to lay you down”, he immediately turned to another station, his shoulders relaxing slightly when it was apparent a commercial was playing. You bit into your lip, trying to hide a smile underneath your hand as best you could until he turned to look at you.

He let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe you should pick the music.”

You leaned forward, never taking your eyes off of him, and switched the radio off.

“Good choice,” he laughed. “Though I warn you, I’ve been known to be a bit of a talker. Silences and I don’t get along too well, or so I’ve been told.” He gave you a sheepish grin.

“Good.” You smiled and got comfortable. “I want to hear all about the cowboy from Texas who ended up as a sheriff in Montana,” you teased.

He watched you for a moment, his grin softening into a smile, and then he laughed and nodded, turning back to the road. “Copy that.” You hadn’t even pulled away from the curb before he launched into his first story of the night.

“What made you want to become a homicide detective?” Beau asked.

There it was. One of the three questions you hated being asked, especially on a date. True, when you go on a date, you’re supposed to talk and get to know one another, but sometimes you wished you could skip this part of the conversation altogether. That and anything about your personal and professional life back East. But you supposed that wasn’t feasible and it was unfair to the person asking, so you usually found yourself answering, and by answering you typically meant that you evaded the questions at all costs.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about work.” You took a sip of your wine, quickly glancing around. The steakhouse he had taken you to was nice. It was a little more packed than you anticipated for a Thursday night, in these parts anyway, but the ambience was perfect and you had to admit that the sheriff had chosen well. He had insisted on pulling your chair out for you, which was a nice touch. He had even opened the car door for you, too, upon your arrival, holding a hand up to stop the parking attendant from approaching you while thanking him.

By the time you both had gotten to the restaurant, you had learned that Beau had a younger brother who he was very fond of, and that he had initially retired from law enforcement but then had been pulled out of it by one phone call from his injured predecessor. Beau hadn’t been lying; he was a talker. Surprisingly, you enjoyed that fact about him. He could switch gears and talk about any topic, regale you with stories that were entertaining and helped you learn more about him. Some might think he enjoyed going on about himself but you could see that wasn’t the case. He used his affinity for talking to try to connect to those around him. He was always looking for common ground and a way to make you feel comfortable. He was open and gregarious, almost warm you would say, so the person he was talking to would feel at ease. You instantly liked that about him.

Once you were led to your table, you both quickly put in an order for drinks: a beer for him and a glass of red wine for you. You kind of liked it when he admitted he wasn’t much of a wine drinker and you might have joined him for that beer if you hadn’t been nervous. Beau had then asked if it was okay if he could order for both of you, swearing by his choice of entree and that you would love it, and you had happily agreed, more than impressed that he had asked first.

It didn’t take too long for Beau to start up more conversation between you and your nerves began to ease, with you realizing you really liked this guy. Sure, you were attracted to him — who wouldn’t be? But you also could see yourself with him outside of the bedroom, possibly taking in a movie, having more dinners like this one, and just spending time together. While you knew you still needed to get to know him better before thinking of anything like that, and you hadn’t been looking to start up an actual relationship anytime soon, your instincts told you to hold onto this one and not just casually throw him away for a roll in the sheets or two.

Plus, the man had been right; your food was delicious. All in all, this was definitely the best date you’d been on since being in Montana, no contest.

Now here you were, over drinks and a half eaten dinner, enjoying said meal when Beau decided to turn the tables on you. You supposed it was only fair; he had been doing a lot of the talking thus far and it was a date after all. You just wished he hadn’t started out the gate with that.

“We aren’t,” he confirmed, giving you a broad smile. “I’m just asking about your background because I want to know more about you.”

Well, damn, when he put it like that… “Fair enough,” you agreed.

“So, homicide. How’d that come about?”

You shrugged. “Seemed like a good move to make at the time.”

“And you don’t think it is anymore?”

You thought over for a moment how best to answer that one. Should you be honest and let him know where your head was at? Or should you keep it to yourself as you had been for the past year? One brief glance into his warm green eyes had your lips loosening. You got the feeling that whatever you told him about this subject would stay between you two. “You have to be made for the job.” You bit your lip and trailed your fingers over the rim of your wine glass. “I’m not sure that I am,” you admitted quietly.

“Seems like you are.”

You looked up to find him smiling kindly at you. “You saw me at one crime scene and you think I’m a natural?”

“Well, no, I mean, you were great. But uh,” You noticed a faint tinge of pink rising in his cheeks and he gave you a sheepish smile alongside a nervous chuckle. “I may have looked you up earlier.”

Ah, you had expected as much. You gave him an approving nod before taking a sip of wine. “A man who does his homework.”

“It’s just that you said you’d only been here for four months and with the department not having heard anything about the string of cases your precinct’s had in all that time…I felt I should look into it a little,” he attempted to explain, guilt beginning to line his expression. “It’s more about the case from this morning than you. After the last time, I just…”

You could see he was trying to figure out how to finish that sentence but he didn’t need to. “It’s fine.” You waved your hand dismissively and sat back in your chair with wine in hand. “I looked into you, too,” you admitted. Something you usually did before a date anyway, but the sheriff had particularly piqued your curiosity.

His brows arched in surprise. “And?”

“You need to update your department photo on your website.”

“Never,” he swore, making you tilt your head and smile in amusement. After a moment, his grin faded and he glanced back down at his plate. “That can’t be the only thing you saw in your search.”

You debated on whether to tell him what you’d found. It obviously hadn’t affected your decision to go out with him tonight. There wasn’t a single officer in law enforcement that didn’t have a case in their past that haunted them, whether it had gone awry or it was that truly terrible. You knew that better than most. While you were curious about what you had seen, you didn’t need answers, not until he was ready to give them.

You carefully chose your words before responding. “I may have seen something about a case down in Houston that perhaps didn’t go as planned.”

Stiffly nodding, he began to cut into his meat. “Didn’t go as planned is a real nice way of putting it,” he mumbled before taking a bite.

You studied him as he chewed, noting the tension in his jaw that wasn’t just due to the action. You could understand that this appeared to be a topic that he didn’t like discussing. Once he swallowed, he took a sip of his beer, his eyes meeting yours. “You had no problem answering my question. I suppose it’s only fair that I should answer yours.”

Your brows furrowed as you pretended to be confused. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to ask a question yet.”

His features relaxed slightly and his smile started to return. You mirrored it and he let out a quiet chuckle as he self-consciously scratched at his eyebrow. “Yeah, I, uh…I do that a lot. Sorry. Hoyt always says I can be a real chatty one.”

Your jaw was the one tensing this time, at the mention of Hoyt, but you worked to cover it well by finishing the tiny amount of wine left in your glass. You had zero desire to be reminded of that pushy blonde from this morning. You signaled to your server for another glass and sat back, smiling. “I don’t mind it all that much.”

And that was the truth, you didn’t. Which was odd because most times after a long day like this one, you just wanted peace and quiet. And that’s what you had always looked for in someone, besides the other desired qualities someone had in a life partner — someone who could let you have that quiet, let it be comfortable between you and empty of expectations, even give your mind time to process everything from the day’s events. Someone who understood and didn’t take it personally, who didn’t cop an attitude if you didn’t want to rush right back out the door for a dinner hosted by your friends or to go to a family gathering or to a sporting event or concert down at Madison Square Garden. Someone who could just let you be during some of the tougher days in your career. As you had already observed, Beau’s conversation flowed freely but the best part was that it didn’t carry any requirements of your constant participation. You actually enjoyed some of the stories he’d regaled you with already and you liked how the banter between you was natural and easygoing. Even if you weren’t here on a date, you had a feeling that had you met him in another social setting, you would have enjoyed talking with him anyway. He just had this warm, light-hearted, and charismatic way about him that just invited you in and you had no choice but to want to be around him.

“It doesn’t annoy you?” Beau asked, dubious. “It’s annoyed every other woman in my life so far.”

You shook your head and shrugged. “Sounds like that’s their loss then.” You gave an appreciative smile to the server who delivered your new glass of wine and held it out to Beau. “And their loss is my gain.”

Beau’s gaze was intent on you and his grin melted into the smirk that had first made an appearance when he’d asked you out. “Both our gain,” he murmured, lifting his pint glass to meet your glass in a soft clink. Neither of you looked away as you both drank and that familiar flip feeling was back in your stomach.

“So.” You quietly cleared your throat after placing your glass down, forcing your gaze back on the steak you were trying to cut into while also attempting to rein yourself back in. If you weren’t careful, you might just ask him to skip dinner altogether and get straight to dessert…at your place. “You looked into me. Any questions?” You braced yourself, expecting the other two questions you dreaded: about the infamous serial killer case you’d been involved in back East that he had obviously read up on, or worse, your romantic history.

“Just one.” Your eyes flicked to his and you found him giving you that charming smile once more. “Are you religious?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, wondering where that had come from. A little part of you was dismayed at the question, hoping he wasn’t one of those guys. There was nothing wrong with being religious of course, but it wasn’t your thing. Back in New York when you had been patrolling the streets in uniform, you had gone on a date with a friend of a friend. By the end of said date, you were fielding questions about your sexual history, if you were willing to turn away from sin, and what you would be willing to do to avoid eternal damnation of your soul because you were a woman and a whore (his words, not yours). He had even tried to slip a pocket Bible into your purse without your knowledge before you hurried out of the building, telling yourself that you were done with blind dates forevermore. And you had been, though Cecilia had managed to talk you back into them once you got here (but you’d made your ‘absolutely no exceptions’ rule known before she did). But then of course, the two she’d set you up on pretty much closed out that option for you permanently.

With Beau, you hadn’t gotten that religious vibe from him but you also hadn’t known him all that long. Disappointment radiated throughout your chest. Perhaps you would be calling Jack for a ride after all. “No. Why?”

He gestured towards your neck and you glanced down, realizing what he was focused on. The immediate relief swept through you and you discreetly let out a breath. “It’s pretty,” he reassured. “I just thought…maybe…”

You maneuvered the cross pendant between your fingers and smiled down at it. You always wore it and it hadn’t even entered your mind that it might come up in conversation. When you had checked yourself over in the mirror earlier at the station, you didn’t even give it a second thought when you saw it, sitting around your neck, shining brightly for all to see. It was just a part of you at this point, like another limb, that you barely paid any notice to. Unless you sought it out like you had at your first crime scene of the day this morning. “It was a gift.”

You glanced up to find Beau nodding. “Oh. So, not religious then?”

“Not religious,” you confirmed. “More…spiritual.” You turned your smile onto him. “Maybe,” you added as a quick afterthought.

His eyes were focused on you, warm as could be, and his smile echoed that warmth. “Same, actually.”

More relief flooded through you as you folded your arms on the table, pushing your plate away slightly. You were still eating but you needed your stomach to settle a little first from the flip-flopping it just did before you continued. “Sometimes with this job, it’s hard to be a believer, you know?”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Sure is sometimes.” He began to cut another piece of his steak. “A gift, huh? Who from?” He swallowed and then his eyes widened slightly. “I mean, only if it’s okay for me to ask that. Shit, sorry,” he laughed nervously at himself. “I am really bad at this. It’s, uh…it’s been a while.”

“Me too,” you reassured him with a smile, relieved to hear it. “I’m not that much better but I’m pretty sure this is what we’re supposed to be doing. Asking questions, getting to know one another…”

“Good point. Well, in getting to know one another,” He appeared serious all of a sudden and you noticed a little apprehension that hadn’t been there before. “I should tell you that I’ve been married before.”

That slightly surprised you, more from the topics being changed so quickly than the revelation. It was something you already knew thanks to your look into him earlier, but it had been a brief mention in everything you read. You were waiting for him to bring it up and now that he had, you were curious as to what heralded the end of his marriage and just how long ago it had been considering the Houston case had only been a few years ago and he had still been married then. You also wondered just how long he had been married.

“And I also have a teenage daughter.”

You kept your expression even and gave him a slow nod. So, that long then.

Beau cleared his throat nervously. “Her mom and I split up a few years back. They came up here and I followed them. I didn’t want to be too far from my little girl. But, some months back, she and her mom moved back down to Houston.” His expression darkened for a moment before it cleared and he gave you a nervous smile.

Your brows drew together. You could understand his moving up here to be close to his daughter; that was admirable even. Though when they moved back to Texas, Beau didn’t follow them this time? There was definitely a story there.

He was studying you, most likely trying to ascertain if this was a dealbreaker for you. You lifted a bite of steak on your fork and asked, “How old is your daughter?” When you placed the meat inside your mouth and began to chew, you noticed the relief sweeping through his expression.

“Seventeen.” He gave you a wide smile, pride shining in his green eyes.

“Wow. She’s almost out of high school.”

That smile grew even bigger if it were possible. You couldn’t help but mirror it; it was nice to see a father be proud of his daughter. It wasn’t exactly something you experienced yourself growing up.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Hard to believe. Em told me today that she and her mom are going to look at the University of Houston this weekend. My little girl is talking about going to college.” He shook his head. “Where the hell did the time go?” He murmured sadly, dropping his gaze to his glass in thought.

You gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. You imagined it must be hard not to be present for these important moments in his daughter’s life, especially considering what they’d been through. The serial killer case Jack, Anderson, and your Chief kept referring to turned out to be the same one you found out Beau and his department had been involved in. While one of the kidnapping victim’s names had not been disclosed to the media, the internal reports confirmed it for you: Beau’s daughter had been taken by the suspect. Thankfully, there had been a happy ending for all involved minus the killer. However, you still wondered why he hadn’t followed his family back home, especially after all of that. There had to be a reason he stayed (which you were currently grateful for) but you didn’t think it could be the job. It had to be something else but what that something else could be, you had no idea. You didn’t know his daughter obviously but seeing the sadness currently residing in his expression, you felt for him; you felt for them both.

Beau seemed to realize he had spaced out for a moment and quietly cleared his throat. He gave you a tiny smile but you could tell some of the light had gone out of it from before and his eyes weren’t as bright when they settled back on you. “Sorry. It just…” He made an explosion sound and gestured towards his head. “It still catches me off guard sometimes.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” You gave him a reassuring smile. You could see the gratitude staring back at you and you took another bite of your steak to give him another moment. He appeared to take your cue and did the same. When you were done chewing, you lifted up your glass to take another sip of wine. “It’s from a family.”

His brows furrowed slightly in confusion.

You gestured to your necklace. “It was given to me by the family of a victim. After I worked their case.”

You could see surprise and interest light up his eyes, but you appreciated that he didn’t immediately begin peppering you with questions. Instead, he smiled at you. “I’m sure they were grateful for everything you did for them.”

You affected a slow nod, your fingers immediately clasping onto your cross pendant as memories a part of you would rather forget began to play on a loop in your mind. You glanced out across the restaurant and Beau mercifully gave you a minute to get yourself together.

Eventually, you brought your attention back to the man sitting across from you, moving back into his chair and sighing in satisfaction. He had finished his dinner while you had been working to push certain images in your mind back into the box you locked everything from your job away in. “Best steak in the whole county. That with a beer at the end of a long day…never fails.”

“It is pretty good.” You had to agree; it was definitely the best steak you’d had since moving here.

He seemed pleased at that. “Though, I may need to get some steps in before we leave.” He gestured towards his body. “I have a figure to maintain.”

You could see the teasing in his gaze and you decided to tease him back. “From what I can see, you don’t have all that much that you need to maintain. But, if you really want to work the calories off.” You gave him your best seductive smirk. “I can think of a few ways to help with that.”

As you expected, the shade of his eyes darkened slightly and his smile melted into that familiar smirk. “Do you now?”

You kept your gaze locked on his as you picked up your wine, finishing it in one long swallow, before placing the glass back down and licking the last remnants from your lips. When your tongue made an appearance, his eyes were laser focused on it, before lifting back to yours. All traces of the teasing from before were gone now. “I do,” you confirmed.

Images filled your mind once more, but this time they were of a more carnal nature, starring the attractive man sitting across from you, who very much appeared to be hungry again, and not for food this time. That expression of his promised deliciously dark and sinful things should you decide to make good on your implied offer. You were seriously considering throwing every rule you had right out the window and asking him to drive you back to your place, your car be damned. You’d call Jack for a ride to the station in the morning, not caring in the least about any jokes he might make at your expense on the way. With the way Beau was looking at you now, you were pretty sure you’d be too blissfully tired to care much anyway.

“How is everything?”

The server’s question interrupted your little staring contest and Beau turned an amiable smile up at the man. “Great. Another ribeye grilled to perfection.” You took the opportunity to breathe and get your thoughts back in order.

The younger man grinned, pleased. “Glad to hear it. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Beau glanced over at you as did the server, both waiting for your answer. You knew your reply would determine how you would spend the rest of your evening: sleeping alone or not sleeping at all.

After a moment of desire and logic warring within you, the former ended up winning out. You turned a polite smile onto the server. “Can I get some coffee, please? Decaf?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Beau’s gaze drop to his plate but you also could see the hint of a smile forming on his handsome face.

“Absolutely. Sir, would you like anything else?”

Beau beamed up at the man. “I’ll take some coffee as well. Also decaf. Thank you.”

The server nodded, grabbing your plates, and hurried off to get said coffee.

When Beau’s eyes met yours, you gave him an apologetic smile. You hadn’t meant to be a tease. You really did want to take him back to your place, but you also liked him and surprising yourself, you wanted to see where this could possibly go. You weren’t looking for a serious relationship right now (or possibly ever again) but you also didn’t want whatever this was with Beau only ending up as a one night stand. As much as you were attracted to him and as badly as you wanted to find out just what was stirring deep within those eyes when he looked at you like that, you wanted this to last just a little bit longer. That was what had the rational part of your mind winning the battle from a few moments ago, much to the chagrin of other parts of you.

Beau gave you a subtle nod and his returning smile was understanding and almost appeared a little relieved. You weren’t exactly sure what to think about that but he didn’t give you much time to ponder it before he hit you with the third question you despised. “So, how about you? Ever been married? Any kids?”

You could feel a familiar tension happening in your face when you forced a wan smile. “Never on both counts.”

“Never as in never happened? Or never as in you never plan to?”

You wondered why you had been stupid enough to finish your wine and not get a refill before ordering the coffee. You truly hated this part of dating, which was one of the reasons why you didn’t do it too often. Beau wasn’t asking anything outside of the box that would be expected from a first date, but God did you hate this question.

“Never as in I’ve never been married and no, I don’t have kids.” You glanced around, looking for the server but not finding him. When you looked at Beau again, you found him studying you intently. He seemed to sense that this wasn’t a topic you really wanted to delve into and decided to leave well enough alone. He slowly nodded at your response and finished the remains of his beer.

The playful banter from before, the comfortable conversation, the teasing — all of it seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving a very awkward silence between you for the first time all evening. You mentally cursed yourself, knowing you were the one responsible for it. But you also reminded yourself, This is why you don’t date.

“So, I told you why I moved to Montana. What made you decide to transfer to Big Sky Country?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask that question and when you glanced up at him, you could see the kindness that was beginning to become his trademark staring back at you. He was swerving away from the previous topic and throwing you a lifeline.

“I just needed a change,” you admitted.

Mercifully, he didn’t immediately follow up with “A change from what?” and just nodded. “You like it so far? Outside of things like today I mean?”

You thought it over for a moment. “Yeah. Outside of things like today, I think I do.” You surprised yourself with that statement. You hadn’t really thought about it too much since transferring here. You had only really focused on the job part. You had just been so desperate to get out of New York, to try something different, that you hadn’t really looked before you jumped. And now that you were here and he was asking, it hit you that you hadn’t really taken a moment and thought it over in the four months you’d been here. Montana was certainly different to New York, in many aspects, and you thought the change in the pace of living would drive you nuts. Especially being used to big city life. But truthfully, you found that you much preferred your lifestyle out here compared to what it had been back East. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, Manhattan hadn’t been either, but there was no such thing as perfect — only close to perfect. And right now, studying the man sitting across from you, you knew he fell under that category and despite the heavy weight from work you carried, you felt a little lighter and had a little something resembling hope for the first time since you’d crossed state lines.

Beau crossed his arms and leaned on his elbows. “I feel the same. Took me a little bit, though. Quite the change from Texas, especially in temperature.” He chuckled and your smile widened. “But it’s beautiful up here, the fishing’s great, folks are nice…I had no complaints. And eventually, it started to feel like home.”

You slowly nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” you murmured.

The server appeared then with your coffee. Once you were set up, he left again, giving you both your space.

Beau picked up his cup, getting ready to take a sip. “So, uh, about that case from this morning…”

You placed your cup down and shook your head, chuckling but without any real mirth. “I should’ve known you’d try to pump me for information I can’t give you. No wonder you asked me to dinner then and there. My partner implied as much when I told him.” You were such an idiot. You knew he was attracted to you but you should have known this was going too well to actually be anything more than that and an attempt at getting you to soften up to give him information at the same time. You immediately thought of another reminder for yourself, This is why you don’t date cops.

“What? No.” He gently laid his hand over yours, causing you to look up at him. “That’s not why I asked you to dinner and I’m not asking you for any information. I know you can’t give me more than you already have and I’m not trying to push that.”

“Then why bring it up?”

He went to answer you but then stopped, studying you intently. You weren’t exactly sure what he saw but it had him removing his hand and sitting back, seemingly guarded all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He appeared like he wanted to say more but instead, he smiled apologetically. “I told you I’m no good at this,” he quietly chuckled.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, though it felt like anything but. “Let’s just forget it.” You gave him a small smile before sipping your coffee.

His eyes were trained on you and he let out a quiet sigh. “Hoyt was right. I talk too much.”

You involuntarily tensed at the mention of his undersheriff again. That was twice now. Your instincts were screaming at you. “Maybe she’s not a fan but I don’t mind it.” You compulsively swallowed and then asked the question you hadn’t planned on asking for at least a few more dinners, and that was only if you both somehow managed to become serious about this dating thing and he made the impossible happen: changing your mind. “You asked me about my past so it’s only fair I ask about yours.” He nodded in encouragement. “Was there anyone after your divorce?”

He seemed a little surprised but didn’t hold back from answering. “I had some casual dates here and there. None of it really went anywhere, though. If I’m being honest, I was too focused on Em and the move up here to think about getting into anything.”

You nodded, giving it a beat, before you asked the real question you needed an answer to. “So there wasn’t anyone serious? At all?”

Discomfort quickly flitted across his expression and nervousness radiated off of him, answering your question before he verbally could. Disappointment surged within your chest. You should have known. “Just one. After I had settled in.”

You forced your tone to be as neutral as possible, relying on your training. “And?”

“It didn’t work out.”

You shot him a look of disbelief. Obviously, it hadn’t or you both wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

Beau let out a sigh. “Things just got…complicated.”

You nodded, not bothering to ask how or even who he was referring to. You already had a pretty good idea on both.

Staring at you, Beau seemed to contemplate something before elaborating, “Me and Hoyt…we dated for a bit.” And there it was.

You felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over you. Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach. You should have known. Rumors, no matter how exaggerated, didn’t start up without some sort of catalyst. Not to mention, her watching you like a hawk while talking to Beau that morning now made sense. You were all cops; if Beau had checked you out at all, no matter how discreetly, Hoyt would have seen it and been less than pleased. Especially, since she appeared to still carry a torch for him; that was more than obvious to you now.

It was a shame. The date had been going mostly well until he dropped that little nugget or harsh truth. While you appreciated his honesty and willingness to be up front with you, and answer your probing questions, you now knew this would never work. The sadness that engulfed you at the thought should not have cut as deeply as it did depending on how little you actually knew this man who you had only met this morning.

“Oh,” you forced out.

“Yeah, but that was some time ago. It’s been done for a while. Like I told you this morning, she’s my undersheriff and a friend, that’s all. Us trying for anything more than that just didn’t end up working out.”

“Obviously.” You gestured at the table, indicating the date you were on.

He laughed, his body relaxing. “Yeah.” He then graced you with a warm smile. “Well, maybe it did in a way.” At your furrowed brows, his smile melted into a smirk and he covered your hand with his once more. “You’re sitting here with me, now.” His thumb began to tenderly stroke your skin and you ignored the chain reaction it set off within you feeling his touch. “So maybe it ended up working out after all,” he murmured.

You gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Yeah,” you whispered, the sadness blooming within your chest. You knew at that moment that if you gave him the greenlight right now, your earlier hesitation before being damned, you could have him in your bed by the night’s end. There was definitely a mutual attraction between you that you definitely could have explored, even if it was just casual fun. But now… Now, the possibility of you and Beau, something fun that wasn’t just a one time thing or something more, had immediately been swiped off the table for you.

And just when you thought things in Montana might work out for you after all.

Beau had just pulled his car to a stop, right behind your parking spot at the station. He turned a smile on you. “There we go.”

You had asked him to bring you back to your car though he offered to drive you home, concern marring his brow when you’d insisted you were sober enough to drive yourself. He didn’t argue but you noticed he purposely took a longer route back to your precinct, which was just agonizing for you. Being in close proximity to the man you were highly attracted to but wanted as far away from as possible at the same time was complete torture. You considered telling him to pull over somewhere you wouldn’t be seen by anyone on the main road and working out the tension you both had along with your frustration, but despite your disappointment at how things had worked out, you couldn’t do that to him. From the little time you’d spent with him, Beau appeared to be a good man and he wouldn’t deserve you doing that to him. You knew he’d enjoy himself as well, sure, but then you insisting things stay professional between you afterwards, insinuating you were just there for one round of casual sex and that you had basically used him — well, he wouldn’t deserve that. Had this been someone like Taylor, you could have easily done that with a clear conscience, but not to Beau. So you kept your hands to yourself, stayed quiet, and stared out the window at the passing dark landscape.

Beau had tried to make conversation a few times and you answered him, but it was the bare minimum. He had even tried to start up the teasing banter again once or twice but you never took the bait. You felt bad but it was best to close this up now rather than let the man have hope for something that could never be.

So once Beau stopped the car, you had to keep yourself from vaulting out of it and getting as far away as you could. Instead, you undid your seat belt, desperate to end this quickly but as kindly and respectfully as possible. “Thank you for dinner. You were right. That was the best steak I’ve had in a long time. You sure know your beef.”

“Us Texas cowboys always do,” he teased. His smile grew and you could see the hope coming to life behind it. You hated to see it, knowing you would soon be crushing it. Your heart cracked slightly when he picked up your hand, kissing the back of it in a manner that you’d only seen in movies. The feel of his lips on your skin sent an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You felt him smile against your hand. “Cold?” He murmured.

“A little,” you lied. “Still not used to the temperature, I guess.”

“I know that feeling all too well.” He released your hand and turned on the heat, adjusting the vents in your direction. He then picked up both of your hands, bringing them up to his face and gently blew hot air into your palms, causing another shiver. This time, thankfully, he didn’t remark on it and there was no smug smirk. Instead, he began to rub your hands in between his, trying to warm you up. “I should’ve brought a jacket,” he muttered. “Or insisted you grab yours.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. “I have to adjust to the Montana weather at some point, I guess.”

Beau chuckled. “Yeah but not like this.”

“I’ll be fine. The heat in my car was working this morning and I’m a straight shot across town where I’ll be stepping into a warm house.”

He continued rubbing your hands, his eyes meeting yours. “You live across town?”

You nodded.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you mention that? I could have dropped you right off and given you a ride back here in the morning.”

You softened at the nickname before your eyes narrowed. “What, you thought you’d be spending the night? Wow, presumptuous much?” You didn’t mention how you had been afraid the entire date that that very thing might happen if you invited him back to your place.

He gave you his winning smile. “Not what I meant, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes and gently pulled your hands out of his, rubbing at your left one and focusing on it. “You’ve got all sorts of nicknames for the ladies, don’t you?” You muttered.

You felt him tenderly cup your chin and he brought your eyes back over to his. You could feel yourself falling into the depths of those green orbs that studied you so intently. “I’d really like to see you again,” he murmured. “Y/N,” he added for good measure with the hint of a teasing smirk.

You gave him a sad smile and gently moved his hand away from you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His smirk dropped and his brows began to furrow. “I'm not sure I understand. I thought—”

You scrambled for a way to explain that wouldn’t invite too many questions. “I’m just not looking for anything serious right now. And honestly, I think you are.”

The confusion on his bearded face intensified. “Then why did you say yes to the date?”

You shrugged. “Truthfully, I was hoping we could have something casual and I thought maybe that’s what you’d want as well, just to have some fun without any strings, something light, but now…”

He watched you, his eyes moving back and forth over your features, trying to assess what exactly had gone wrong here. You kept your poker face on, thankful for that one part of your job you had been able to hone over the years. Sure enough, disappointment began to spread over his expression. “I thought we had a really nice time. That we were on the same page.”

“So did I,” you admitted sadly. Until we weren’t. “But we just aren’t.” You pretended you didn’t see his face fall at that or the wall he immediately put back up after until a stony expression was all that looked back at you. “Look, I did have a nice time. A really nice time. Thank you for showing me some of what Helena has to offer.” You gave him a kind smile at the callback to your conversation from that morning and you weren’t surprised when he didn’t smile back. Not this time. Possibly not ever again. Another part of you was saddened that you had pretty much ruined any chance of you becoming friends, never mind lovers. But you just couldn’t do that to yourself again. You wouldn’t, even for a great guy like Beau.

You knew you shouldn’t do it but you couldn’t resist; this would be your only chance. You leaned in and quickly kissed him on the cheek. You felt his arms start to move, almost as if to circle around you and pull you in closer, but you hurriedly moved back into your seat before he could. “I guess I’ll see you around. Good night, Beau.”

His eyes stayed trained on you. “Get home safe,” he gruffed out.

Your smile widened at his kindness. “You, too.”

You stepped out of the car, noting that he didn’t rush to get out to open your door for you like he had earlier in the evening. That might have to do with the stone cold expression he still wore that faded into shock and disappointment when he thought you could no longer see him. You got into your car and started it, giving him a wave when he didn’t immediately move. A moment later, his car pulled away from yours and you watched as he slowly rolled out of the parking lot onto the main road. Once he disappeared out of sight, you let out a heavy breath and dropped your face into your hands.

You liked Beau, he seemed like a good man and he even seemed good for you. But the past relationship with Hoyt that he had admitted to you had you hitting the eject button as fast as you could. No matter how easy and promising things had seemed between you before that little bomb dropped. Had he owned up to it this morning when he asked you out, you would have never said yes to him. You’d been there before and you had no interest in going through any of that again. That particular scar still stung even though it had been quite a while since that pain had been inflicted on you.

Speaking of which, Beau had been right; you should have said no when he asked you out. You took a deep breath, silently cursing yourself for being so stupid as to accept the date. What had you been thinking? That you’d get a friends with benefits situation going with the man? Or that you’d somehow magically be willing to enter into something serious when you knew deep down you couldn’t? Not only that, but you should have known from the way Hoyt looked at Beau at the crime scene this morning that there was something between them. You should have immediately known the second her possessive attitude appeared. He may have claimed that they were done and it was in the past for him, but that didn’t mean it was for Hoyt. And if she wanted to resume things between them, pick up where they left off before it got too complicated, it would only be a matter of time… You shook the thought from your mind and took another deep breath, blowing it out past your lips in a steady stream of air.

Once you felt centered enough to be able to focus, you put the car in reverse and started the drive home, intent on putting Beau Arlen and another date that ended in disaster behind you.

You watched as Jack leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, staring down the man currently sitting across from you both.

“So, you’re telling me that you were nowhere near the Hartmans’ the night before last?”

“No, sir,” the young man insisted.

Your jaw tensed but you kept your face carefully blank. Sure enough, the kid’s coffee-colored eyes briefly flickered in your direction before settling back on your partner.

Earlier this morning, not too long after you had arrived for your shift, Ava Russell, Amelia Hartman’s sister, had marched into the precinct, towing along Madison, the couple’s daughter. You hadn’t seen either of them since you had spoken to them at the Hartmans’ home yesterday, after the latter had discovered the grisly scene of her parents’ deaths as a result of what appeared to be a home invasion gone badly. The older woman demanded to speak to you and Jack right then and there.

Your heart went out to the young girl almost immediately when you spotted her bloodshot eyes surrounded by puffy and blotchy-red skin. Even as she looked at you, her eyes were brimming once more with unshed tears.

“Ms. Russell, how can we help?” Jack asked kindly.

Before he could finish getting the words out, Ava turned to Madison and said sternly, “You need to tell them.”

Madison’s eyes overflowed once more and she sniffled, wiping her cheeks. “Aunt Ava, I don’t know if I should,” she whimpered. “What if I’m wrong?”

“Then he’ll be cleared,” Ava snapped. “But you need to tell them.”

Madison let out a sob and dropped her face into her hands. Ava looked as if she was about to bark at the girl again, so you quickly stepped in, laying a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. It wasn’t uncommon to see something happening like this after such a case as this one. Emotions were running high, they’d barely had time to process the two unexpected deaths, their thoughts most likely were turning over and over with memories of Everett and Amelia, wanting to know who had taken them from this world and so brutally — all of it. Ava loved her niece, that much was evident from what you’d seen the day before, but both women were most likely near their breaking points, even if they might be on different ends of the emotional spectrum at the moment. The best thing you could do to help was to listen to what needed to be said, to placate Ava and let her know you were absolutely taking her sister and brother-in-law’s case seriously, and to soothe Madison who had been through more than enough in the last twenty four hours. Not to mention, any investigator worth their salt would be willing to hear whatever Maddie had to say, even if she herself thought she was wrong, whatever it might be. You never know what form a break in the case might show up in.

“Hey, Maddie,” you spoke softly. “How about you and I find a quiet place to sit down and talk? Would that be alright?”

She sniffled again and turned to glance up at you.

“I’ll come with you,” Ava insisted, ready to march her niece down the hallway towards the interrogation rooms herself.

“Actually,” Jack smoothly intervened. “Ms Russell, if you don’t mind, maybe you can stay here with me and answer a few more questions. Maddie will be fine with Detective Y/L/N. She’s in good hands.”

Ava had a knowing expression on her face and her eyes landed on your encouraging nod, making her sigh. “Sure. But, Maddie, you need to tell them everything,” she ordered, this time with a gentler but still firm tone.

Maddie gave her aunt a subtle nod, wiping her cheeks again, and you turned a kind smile on her. “Let’s go see if we can find a quiet room, okay?”

“Okay,” Maddie choked out.

You had led the strawberry blonde-haired teenager down the hall and into one of the free rooms. You made sure she was comfortable and had everything she needed before you sat down to hear what she had to tell you. And by the end of it, you had a feeling you might be thanking Ava for pushing her niece to come in if this was indeed the break in the case you and Jack had been looking for.

Maddie had a boyfriend, Dylan Carter, who she met last semester and who happened to be a few years older than her — something she hadn’t shared the day before with you or Jack when you’d asked. It turned out that he wasn’t a student at the university she attended but he lived locally off-campus. They had met at a party one night and things took off from there. She had been seeing him pretty steadily since then and they had gotten serious. So serious in fact that Maddie had brought Dylan home for a bit once classes let out for the summer. To say Everett and Amelia Hartman were unimpressed was an understatement.

After observing the two lovebirds up close and personal, both parents wanted Maddie to move on from the relationship and focus on the path ahead of her. They reminded her she was young and had so many opportunities at her fingertips, just waiting to be taken. Maddie hadn’t been happy about their opinions and it had caused arguments between her and her parents, but when you pushed a little further, you eventually got the whole story behind the Hartmans’ immediate dislike of her boyfriend.

They were convinced that Dylan was controlling and manipulative towards her, and they wanted him out of her life. He could be a sly charmer in public, very charismatic even, but privately, it was a whole other matter. He didn’t want her going anywhere or seeing anyone without him present. He had become possessive, overly jealous, and demanding. He even would put her down and call her names, tell her how stupid she was or how ugly she looked, and advised her that she should feel lucky that he chose to be with her, that he loved her that much.

Classic emotionally abusive behavior: suss out their vulnerabilities, strip them down until they’re nothing and easily controlled, and you’ll be in control of them. Sadly, it was no surprise to you that Maddie had kept her relationship with Dylan a secret from you and Jack. You’d seen it several times before in cases you worked, even back when you’d been working the beat as a patrol officer. Just like you discovered in Homicide, there were way too many methods that people could employ to hurt others, way too many ways that innocents could be preyed upon by predators of various natures, all of them having diverse motives. It was something that you (and all cops truthfully) learned early on in your career. It was even why some of you joined the force, yourself included. To protect and serve — it wasn’t just a motto painted on the side of a patrol car to you.

You had paused the writing on your notepad when Maddie told you about an incident that had taken place only a few weeks ago. She and Dylan had gotten into another heated argument, this time over her disobeying him by going out to dinner with a girlfriend while he had been working. The argument escalated to Dylan wrapping his hand around her throat and pushing her into the wall. He had tightened his grip when she clawed at his hand and she had been terrified. He threatened her and let her go but not before he promised that if she ever did something like that again, she’d be sorry. That incident had frightened her so badly that she had snuck a phone call to her mom after he had fallen asleep. All she had running through her mind was what if he hadn’t let go of her? What if she’d never see her parents again, or her friends? What if he had squeezed too hard? What if he’d done worse? What if he killed her, even just accidentally? He regularly grabbed her, left bruises around her wrists and forearms, even squeezed her thighs and knees in death grips when he would drive, but never had he gone this far before.

Naturally, Amelia panicked and woke Everett. They immediately made the three hour drive to pick up their daughter, not caring in the least about what could be done for classes. She could transfer for all they cared but they wanted their daughter safely away from the abusive asshole who’d had the nerve to put his hands on her, with the intent to harm her. Something Everett told Dylan when they’d faced off while Amelia rushed Maddie out of his apartment and down to the car. The older man hadn’t missed the light marks forming on Maddie’s neck even though he’d already known what happened since Maddie had told Amelia. Her parents had wanted to contact law enforcement, take out a restraining order, but she pleaded with them not to. Eventually, she was able to persuade them, promising she’d stay away from Dylan for good.

That promise didn’t last that long. She had returned home with her parents as they’d requested, luckily being able to take some classes online, while Amelia kept posing the possibility of a transfer to somewhere closer to home at the end of the semester. Everything seemed to be settling into place though things had been terrifying that one night, and she was doing her best to cope with the new changes in her life. And of course, Dylan kept sending her apology texts, lonesome Snapchats, and left her tearful and pleading voicemails. He claimed he truly loved her, loved her so much that it drove him crazy. He never meant to hurt her, he just got jealous and he lost his head, but he would never really hurt her, yada, yada, yada. You’d heard all of those excuses before and you began to see what direction this story was about to take.

Sure enough, Maddie had started to sneak out to meet with him when he told her he was in town and desperately needed to see her. She lied to her parents about catching up with a friend who was taking a gap year and still living at home. Amelia seemed nervous to let her out the door but eventually, she gave in and just asked that Maddie stay safe, keep in touch — easy enough to agree to at her nineteen years of age. Everett had told her to call him if she needed him to pick her up or for anything at all. The two were none the wiser. And Ava hadn’t known about the scary incident with Dylan or anything after that whatsoever; not until Maddie had told her the night prior and then the older woman insisted she come in this morning to tell you everything.

One night about a week ago, Maddie met up with Dylan, and of course, he had been in a sour mood. He wanted her to move back, to move in with him, but she said she couldn’t. When he got angry, pressing her and then insisting she must not really love him, she panicked and said she couldn’t because of her parents. Maddie began to cry, recounting this moment to you, and her regret was palpable. It was obvious she believed she might be responsible for what happened to her parents even though she still couldn’t accept that Dylan would ever hurt them. He loved her after all, and to hurt them like that would hurt her. Surely, he understood that.

You pressed your lips together for a moment, choosing not to respond to that thought, and gently prompted her to tell you what happened next.

“He said ‘So, it’s your parents then? That’s why we can’t be together?’ Not really thinking and just wanting to end the argument, I told him yeah, that was why.”

“And what did he say to that?” You asked her.

Her eyes began to brim with additional tears, spilling over onto her cheeks. “He asked me,” she choked out. “‘If your parents weren’t a problem, would you be with me then?’” She began to sob, placing her face into her hands. “I told him yes but only because I wanted him to stop. I never meant to—” Her crying increased and you felt horrible for her but you still needed to do your job. The only thing you could offer in that moment was quiet kindness, silent support, and a box of tissues.

She took the box from you and sobbed out a thank you. You gave her a minute or so to collect herself but you had to prompt her to get the rest of the information.

“Maddie, where is Dylan now?”

Her wet eyes snapped up to you in alarm, almost looking fearful, and she rushed out, “You’re not going to arrest him, are you?”

You had answered that as diplomatically yet vaguely as you could. It took some coaxing on your part, but eventually she told you where he was staying. Here in town still. Of course. There was no way he was going to leave the object of his dangerous obsession, the toy he liked to exert his control over. Obviously, you kept those thoughts to yourself.

“Have you spoken to him since yesterday?”

She nodded, wiping a tissue under her nose. “Yeah.”

“So you told him about what happened to your parents?”

“Yeah,” she whimpered.

“And what was his response?”

Maddie’s eyes watered again but she managed to get out, “He told me he was really sorry, that he hated that I had found them like that, and he wanted to be there for me.” You got the sense there was more to it than that so you pushed.

“And?”

“And,” she whispered brokenly. “He said ‘I know how sad you are but just think, we can be together now. No one’s standing in our way.’” She burst into tears once more and you let out a quiet breath, writing down what she’d said. Not a confession by any means, but it certainly now made Dylan Carter a person of interest in your eyes. It was something you and Jack definitely needed to look into and pronto. And somehow you had to convince Maddie to take out a restraining order, something you hoped you could have Ava assist you with. She had listened to her aunt about coming in, maybe she’d listen about safeguarding her safety as well. You wanted nothing more than to comfort the girl but you had to do what you’d been brought onto this case to do and see through this investigation. You had gotten too personal, too caught up in emotions once before, and you couldn’t— You briefly closed your eyes in pain, feeling the weight of the necklace around your neck, but you forced yourself to focus. You had a job to do and that was to get justice for the Hartmans and by extension, their daughter, while also protecting her. You had a new lead, a possible motive — time to get cracking.

So here you and Jack were, sitting in another interrogation room with Dylan across from you, giving you both a mix of a bright smile and a cocky smirk. You knew without a doubt that you had your guy but you had to see the process through to make sure no stone was left unturned.

Dylan had been exactly where Maddie said he’d be and he didn’t appear to be worried by Jack’s pounding on his door or your request that he accompany you to the station to be questioned. Nor did he seem fazed by the presence of two Helena PD officers behind you, at the ready and each having one hand near their handcuffs in case the word lawyer was used, the other near their holster in case he made a move. He could try to refuse but there was really no room for refusal. And now that he had denied being anywhere near the victims’ home the other night, locking himself into his story, you were going to show him why there wasn’t.

“Are you sure that you weren’t anywhere near the Hartman home the other night? Say around 11:30?” You asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Like I told you, I was at my friend’s. We watched the hockey game, drank a few beers, then I crashed on his couch. I was a little too drunk to drive if I’m being honest.” He tried to give you his most charming smile but you weren’t buying a single shred of the act.

“So not at all?” You repeated.

“No, ma’am,” he insisted.

You glanced over to Jack who gave you a subtle nod. “Well then, we have a problem, Mr. Carter.” You picked up your phone, pulled up the file Stephens had sent you, hit the play button, and turned it around to show the son of a bitch.

He watched the scene unfold that you and Jack had watched before heading out to pick him up. A dark Toyota Corolla pulled up in front of a house two spots away from the Hartman house, coming to a slow stop. When the engine was turned off, it was a good minute before he got out and closed his door; you chalked that up to him checking the area before getting out. You then watched as he made his way down the sidewalk of the quiet street, stopping in front of the Hartman property, turned, and approached the house, slipping out of sight of the camera. Dylan had only put his hoodie up and had never looked around to see if the neighbors had any doorbell cameras, and like an overly confident jackass, he had pulled right in front of the house that not only had a doorbell camera but also a garage one, and his image was all too clear for anyone to see, plain as day.

You could see his jaw tensing but he kept his face tightly controlled. You stopped the video and placed your phone down. Jack had his arms crossed and his stare at Dylan never wavered. “That’s you, Mr. Carter.” You pointed to the device. “Pulling up to a neighbor’s house close to the timeframe that the Medical Examiner has estimated that the victims were killed. You then got out of your vehicle and approached the Hartman home. You were not seen leaving until approximately an hour later. You were there the night they died. So as I said, we have a problem.”

“That proves nothing,” he ground out.

“Nothing?” You turned to look at Jack in feigned shock before turning back to the younger man. “You lied about being at the scene the night of the murders. You are on camera arriving on scene. How does that prove nothing?”

“That’s not me,” he snapped. “You can’t tell who that is.”

You watched him for a moment. “It is you, Mr. Carter. And I’m willing to bet that if we find that hoodie, the victims’ blood will be all over it, won’t it?” You challenged.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You arched a brow over at him but remained quiet, allowing your partner to attempt to seal the deal, to push him off of the edge of that bubble he was currently riding on. You didn’t see a confession coming, not from this sadistic prick, but you had to take the chance that he might fold in the face of some of the evidence already gathered against him.

“Here’s your chance to come clean, man,” Jack offered. “To tell us what really happened that night. Maybe you only meant to scare them, talk to them, convince them why their daughter should give you another chance. Maybe something went horribly wrong and you reacted. And maybe after that, you panicked.”

Dylan’s eyes snapped up and you could see the angry edge to his now darker brown gaze. You had him and he knew it. “I’d like to talk to that lawyer now.” The good old L word. You wished you could say you were surprised that he would have opted for that instead of admitting what he had done, but you weren’t. Not much surprised you anymore when it came to these types of cases, especially with these types of perps. There was no remorse in those eyes.

You gathered up your papers, phone, and got to your feet along with Jack. “Sure thing,” you said sweetly, giving him a strained smile and turning to leave the room. You opened the door and indicated to Officer Morris who had been standing sentry nearby, waiting. He gave you a nod and he made his way past you into the room. He ordered Dylan to stand up and put his hands behind his back, causing the latter to scoff and demand a lawyer even more firmly, saying he was being falsely accused and that he didn’t do anything. Morris asked him again to stand up and this time, Officer Lewis had also stepped into the room. Lewis reminded you of a wrestler you’d once seen on TV years ago, some guy named Austin or something; he was that big and intimidating looking, not that Morris was any slouch himself. Dylan wisely got to his feet and did as requested.

“You’re under arrest for the murders of Everett Hartman and Amelia Hartman,” Jack began as Morris cuffed Dylan. He read him his Miranda rights and once he was finished, Morris led Dylan out the door.

You watched as he passed you by, not looking away once even when he glared at you. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he stopped and got a sick-looking smile on his face, whispering to you, “She’s mine, you know? We’re going to be together. Nothing is going to keep us apart now. She’s mine.”

You wanted to punch him, to tell him that Maddie or any other person on this planet would never be his, that he was going to rot in jail for the rest of his life and you’d personally see to it — but you kept your cool, your training kicking in, and you kept your features carefully schooled into a neutral expression. Plus, you refused to give him any of the reaction he was looking for. He had already taken too much from Maddie and her parents, Ava and their loved ones, and from what you’d found out about the victims during your investigation, the community. He had shattered Maddie’s world and it would be a very difficult road ahead for her but at least she was now safe from this monster.

“Let’s go.” Morris pushed Dylan forward and Lewis was right there to give him a hand. You continued staring after them as they made their way down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

“You okay?” Jack asked, next to you.

You turned to look at him, your brows furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

He inclined his head towards your chest and you only just realized that you had pulled your necklace out and been moving the pendant back and forth on the chain. You had no idea when or why you’d done that; you only hoped that you hadn’t done that in front of Dylan and the officers.

You cleared your throat and placed the pendant back inside your shirt. “I’m fine, thanks though.”

Jack nodded. “Bit of a rough case.”

You huffed out a breath. “Bit of an understatement.”

“True.” Jack gestured for you to walk down the hall to your squad room first. “But the important thing is she’s now safe.”

“As long as he doesn’t get bail,” you muttered.

Jack shook his head. “You think you could stop being the Bad News Bears for one minute? Take the win, Y/L/N.” He passed you and entered the room, plopping his notepad onto his desk. “Besides, I doubt he’s going to get bail. We’ve got him on video. The DA will use it and make a good argument.”

Jack had a point but so did you. “The girl’s parents are dead. She believes she’s the one that caused their deaths. How is that a win? For anyone?” You placed your things on your desk and turned around to lean against it, crossing your arms.

Jack gave you a look but sat down in his chair. “We just closed up a case literally before we hit the forty eight hour mark. We’ve got him on the Ring camera footage from the neighbor, we’ve got him on traffic cams driving to and from the house near the approximate time of death, he’s got the motive, he flat out lied about being at the scene, he’s obviously got a screw loose from what he just said in there to you that’s on camera. We’re getting warrants for his friend’s place and for the tracking of the friend’s car. The sister was able to convince the daughter to take out a restraining order so it’s on record — it’s an open and shut case. A win, Y/N. What more do you want?”

For the bastard to pay. Immediately dismissing that thought and masterfully keeping a tight lid on your emotions, you mulled over it. What more did you want? You couldn’t be quite sure other than that you wished this hadn’t happened in the first place, like with every single case as of late. Every single case since… You briefly fingered at the fabric covering the pendant around your neck. Jack was right; this was pretty much an open and shut case, and Maddie was now safe. Ava was even taking your suggestion to get the girl into therapy as soon as possible. You should take the win. You gave him a nod and turned to sit down at your desk.

“Well, well, well,” Taylor began as he walked in, making your eyes roll as soon as you heard his voice. “If it isn’t my favorite lady detective.”

“Well, well, well,” you echoed. “If it isn’t the pain in my dick coming back. Could’ve sworn the doc gave me something for it but here you are, again. Gonna have to tell her that the creams aren’t working so I need something stronger.”

Jack hissed out a laugh and Stephens rolled his eyes, passing by you both to get to his desk. “Can’t you two play nice for one damn day?” He grumbled.

Riley Taylor was a few years younger than you, had just moved into Homicide two years before you transferred here, and was a perpetual pain in your ass. What he lacked in tact he more than made up for in his pursuit to drive you up a wall on the daily. The blond-haired detective thought he was slick, charismatic, and overall wanted by every single female in a ten foot radius. Guess who was the only female that worked within a ten foot radius of him during the week? Yep, you got that honor…though you knew it was more of a curse.

Sure, he had pursued you the first few weeks you’d been out here, probably just happy at the prospect of having a woman to talk at instead of the wall since Jack and Stephens mostly ignored him. You’d politely declined, trying to be professional, civil, compassionate — and then you’d flat out turned him down when he took your response as a green flag to continue his pursuit. Suffice to say, things had turned downright ugly between you two and the animosity was at an all-time high. He wasn’t a bad guy per se, and you could work together if you had to, but he definitely got on your nerves pretty often. If there was a bane of your existence in this precinct, it was most assuredly him.

Mark Stephens was his partner, a middle-aged man with mostly gray hair and a bushy mustache to boot. He had been in Homicide longer than you, Jack, and Taylor put together though for some reason he had been passed over for Captain in favor of Anderson. The rumor was that it was due to his age while others claimed it was because the Chief couldn’t stand him. Stephens took a very no-nonsense approach to everything he did, even outside of the job. Jack told you that the last time a smile had been spotted on Stephens’ face was back in 1993 when the Toronto Blue Jays had won the World Series for the second time. By the time the World Series was supposed to roll around again the following year, the smile had all but slipped into legend. Jack also warned you that you’d have a better chance of finding the Holy Grail than ever hearing Stephens laugh.

You could almost understand why Taylor enjoyed provoking you rather than dealing with Stephens all the time…almost. You didn’t think Stephens was that bad and you respected his experience and how he handled himself on the job. You also couldn’t help but feel some compassion for the man. He’d been around for how many years, seeing how many murders? You thought your squad and the whole damn precinct needed to cut him some slack.

“Oh, I’d like to get along with her, alright,” Taylor teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he continued to his desk.

“And just like that, I feel the sudden impulse to trade waxes for cement.”

Taylor halted in his tracks, frozen mid-air above his chair, his eyes wide. “You get waxed? Are we talking bikini waxes or…?”

“Alright, alright,” Jack interrupted, flashing a look between you both. “Let’s keep it PG in here for Christ’s sake.”

“Amen,” Stephens mumbled, already clicking away at his mouse.

“She brought it up,” Taylor argued. “Listen, I’m a simple man and I can only take so much.”

“You’re simple, alright,” you muttered, turning to open your drawer on the left side of your desk.

“You wish you had a piece of this, Y/L/N,” Taylor threw out there.

You whipped your head around so fast, you were surprised you hadn’t hurt your neck with the action. “Oh, you mean like a super tiny bite-sized piece?”

“I mean, if you want to bite…I’m game.”

You scoffed in disgust and turned back to your computer. You had work to do; the asshole could go into the men’s bathroom and play with himself if he was that hard up for some entertainment. The way you’d heard it, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

A throat clearing nearby broke into your thoughts. “Hi.”

Your eyes shot up in disbelief, having heard a familiar voice in front of you that you hadn’t thought you would hear anytime soon, if ever again. Sure enough, there stood Sheriff Beau Arlen, hat in hand, facing your desk, his eyes intent on you. You hadn’t heard or seen him come in. “Hi,” you breathed out in surprise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your fellow detectives turning to watch the scene happening in front of them. Except Stephens; the older man could care less.

You marveled at how good Beau looked. Once again, you felt the pangs of disappointment when you remembered why you couldn’t go there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the feast your eyes were currently being served. You stared a little too long and Beau smiled to himself, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again, the unabashed desire deep within those green orbs while at the same time, his cheeks appeared to be a single shade darker. Somehow, the contradicting reactions made him look even more appealing to the naked eye. Naked. You tilted your head slightly as that word rolled around in your head, causing your teeth to subconsciously dig into your bottom lip. You bet he’d look just as good as he did with his clothes on, perhaps even better…

Jack loudly cleared his throat and it thankfully shook you out of your very unprofessional thought track. You got your mind out of the gutter and you snapped back into professional mode immediately, ignoring your partner’s quiet sniggering. “What are you doing here?” You asked the man in front of you.

Beau gave you one of his infamous smiles. “Well, Detective Y/L/N, I was hoping we could have a quick word.” He quickly glanced around the room, taking in all of the eyes on both of you, before elaborating, “About the case from yesterday.”

Your heart immediately sunk in your chest. Of course. You weren’t allowed to be disappointed, though. You were the one who had insisted on things remaining professional between you and nothing more.

Jack’s head snapped up and he turned narrow eyes on the sheriff, glancing back and forth between you two with immediate suspicion. Even though Jack had asked you how the date went the night before, you had simply told him it hadn’t worked out but didn’t give any details. Before he could ask why, Maddie and her aunt had arrived. So you weren’t surprised when Jack watched you both like a hawk in this moment, especially with Beau mentioning that case and so openly.

Before you could answer him, a knock on the open door had you all looking over to find Officer Hutchinson standing there, his gaze trained on you and Jack. “Anderson wants you to see you two in his office,” he gestured to you both. “Right now.” The man vanished before you could say a word in response.

Your brows furrowed as you exchanged a look with Jack, hoping like hell it wasn’t any bad news, or worse: the string of murders from your serial continuing.

You glanced over at Beau as you got to your feet, noticing a fleeting look of guilt as he slipped his hat back onto his head. Your heart sunk even further. Maybe last night had really been an attempt to get information out of you all along. How could you have been so blind?

“Called to the boss’ office,” Taylor teased from his desk. “Wonder what that could be about. Maybe he’s finally going to partner us up, Y/L/N. About damn time, wouldn’t you say?”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a notepad and pen, resisting the urge to flip him off. He certainly gave your middle finger a daily workout, that’s one thing you could say for him. “The day that happens is the day I will happily go back to traffic duty.”

“No need for that. Not when I’ve got something you can check on the regular instead.”

You clenched your fingers around your pen and your jaw tensed as you fought not to say something smart back. You couldn’t believe he had said something like that in front of someone who wasn’t in this unit or even this precinct. What a dickhead. Well, if anything, Taylor was building his own sexual harassment lawsuit against him. The one bright spot in the everyday torture he inflicted on you daily.

“More like break and then remove, but whatever,” you muttered. You ignored Taylor’s guffaw and walked around your desk, coming to a stop in front of Beau.

Beau looked unhappy and that guilt was back again in full force. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk first. Maybe we can have a quick word after the meeting.” At your tensing due to hearing him knowing about the meeting, your suspicions confirmed, he laid a gentle hand on your upper arm. “I’ll see you in there and we’ll talk after,” he assured you in a quiet murmur, squeezing your arm before dropping his hand. It surprised you when Beau then turned a blatant glare in Taylor’s direction before heading out the door. You had never seen that glare on his face before and from the look of it, you hoped you never did, especially directed at you.

Taylor snorted and sneered over at you. “Your boyfriend get jealous or something, Y/L/N? He should be.”

This time, you didn’t fight the urge and promptly flipped him off. Jack gestured for you to join him and you ignored Taylor’s resounding laughter as you two left the room.

In the hallway, Jack muttered to you, “I thought last night was just a date.”

Your jaw tensed. “I thought so, too.”

“Did you talk about the case at all?”

You stopped in your tracks and turned a scowl on him. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Darcy. I know we’ve only been partners for four months but I am a goddamn professional. What? You think some good looking guy makes eyes at me and my brain turns to mush and I forget everything I have worked for? That I’m that fucking stupid? Think again,” you snarled.

Jack held up his hands placatingly. “Relax. That’s not what I’m saying. I only meant, did he bring up the case?”

You let out a breath. “Yeah. Once.” You raised your chin a little, daring him to challenge you on this next part. “But I shut it right down.”

Your partner nodded and held out his arm in front of you, gesturing for you to continue your trek. You did but only after eyeing him severely, giving him the most withering look you could.

“Is that why it didn’t work out?”

“Among other things,” you snapped, not wanting to talk about any of that right now.

Jack gave you another nod and remained quiet the rest of the short walk to your captain’s office. Once you reached the door with the frosted pane of glass bearing the name “Captain James Anderson” in gold letters, Jack gently touched your elbow to stop your progress. “Alright, listen. When we’re in there, let me do the talking.” At your fresh glare, he hurried to add, “Whether you like it or not, I’ve known Anderson longer and whatever firing squad we’re possibly facing in there, I can grab his ear and get him to listen. Especially with Sheriff Loverboy in there now.”

Your eyes widened. Was Darcy trying to push you over the edge? Or get you arrested for homicide? “Are you suggesting that I—”

“No,” he rushed out. “Of course not. I’m saying you need to keep an eye out. You got a good look at his body language last night.” At the fury filling your eyes, Jack assured, “Professionally speaking. You got a pretty good read on him so you know what to look for. Y/N, we need to have each other’s backs in there, alright? We don’t want to lose this case. Not when we’ve fought so hard to keep it.”

He gave you a meaningful look and you unclenched your jaw, sighing, and gave him a curt nod. Jack was right. Not only did you need to be sharp in there but you both had been on this case from the very beginning. You’d be damned if you’d let anyone take you off of it or try to push you out.

After a moment, Jack knocked on the door. “Come in,” Anderson called out.

You took a deep breath and smoothed out your features, giving Jack another nod to let him know you were ready. He returned it and opened the door, allowing you to walk through first. You froze at the threshold. Your body tensed and it took everything you had to keep the shock and ensuing anger off of your face.

Sitting in front of Anderson’s desk was Hoyt, smirking up at you, and the sheriff who had taken you out last night, who had asked to talk to you just a few minutes ago. Beau’s eyes sought yours but you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you kept your eyes on the smug blonde seated next to him.

If you had any doubts about your decision from the night before, they had all but evaporated into thin air after spotting the woman in front of you. You remembered Beau’s words from last night. “Things just got…complicated.” Seeing Hoyt’s smirk grow the longer you stood there and noticing Beau fidgeting next to her out of your peripherals, you actually found yourself agreeing with his sentiments. Complicated sure was a nice way of putting it.

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #beau x reader #beau x female reader #beau x you #beau x y/n #beau arlen #big sky fanfiction #beau arlen fanfiction #the ghosts are coming for you chapter 2 #thebiggerbear

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sisterofficerlucychen · 16 days

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Do you think Tim and Lucy will get back together? If they do do you think it will be another secret dating era? If they get back together and he is still on patrol that would make him her direct supervisor again like he is now, do you think we would have a repeat of 5x12 or would they be able to date without one of them having to transfer? I think this time it should be Lucy changing jobs.

Do you think.Tim is actually going to get the help he needs? If he does do you think part of it is so that he can a better man for Lucy the kind that he thinks she deserves? Do you Lucy will get the help she needs? Sorry so many questions. Do you think the writers will go the route of having them date others before returning to each other or do you think it will be attempt #2 that will stick?

hi ♡ omg no pls bring ‘em all.

Do you think Tim and Lucy will get back together?

yes, 100%. there’s quite a few reasons why i think they will:

ngl, my favorite reason i talked about here but essentially the foreshadowing through parallels

aside from that, there’s a $$$ component. a big part of their viewership stems from chenford and they know this, they know what it means lol. to quote abril rodas: “that’s bad business” (to not get them back together) 😂

the tca interview where eric said lucy would “help bring out a lot of the best in tim to help him navigate that” — we haven’t seen this and even if it’s not lucy supporting him through this as a couple, i think it’s a step in the right direction. i think past the pain and shock and awkwardness of it all, lucy will worry and want to help when she sees how bad he's spiraling? that's who she is.

there’s far too many hints from the actors for it to be permanent like they all keep saying to have hope and that the finale will end at least with some resolution.

i am delulu and refuse to believe that five years of a slow burn ends here ✨ (i wanted to quote another character but i can't remember who said it lmao. but insert here that line about it not making a good ending to the story or something like that?)

If they do do you think it will be another secret dating era?

idk but i want it 👀

here’s the thing, there’s so much we missed in their secret dating era. like i want more of them sneaking around and almost getting caught, trying to play it off but others starting to catch on, the reaction of everyone finding out they’re back together! oh! and an actual betting pool that we see this time????

plus it has the potential to make sense, i think? because it could be that they’re sneaking around because they’re still testing the waters and trying to figure it out again before letting everyone know.

If they get back together and he is still on patrol that would make him her direct supervisor again like he is now, do you think we would have a repeat of 5x12 or would they be able to date without one of them having to transfer?

hmm, i’m not sure but you bring up an interesting point. i know eric said we wouldn’t see tim in metro uniform for a while and i thought that he was back in metro gear by the finale but he isn’t? which now makes me wonder if he ever will be? i have wonderings about this now lol. but anyway, i could see it going both ways? on one hand, i want to say it’d be a repeat of 5x12 bc its protocol but also, they’ve already been a couple before and worked together so idk what protocol is with that 🤷

however, looking back at the s6 finale bts — tim’s in patrol uniform and lucy’s not? so there may be a chance that regardless if they’re back together or not, lucy ends up moving out of patrol and does make detective? because it's odd that tim, aaron, and celina are all in uniform while lucy and angela are not? like the only other reason i could think of for lucy not being in uniform but still on patrol is that she was undercover and got made/tagged in somehow to whatever's gonna go down?

Do you think Tim is actually going to get the help he needs?

god, i hope so. this poor man has had so much trauma in one lifetime. he needs to heal, he needs a break. i think it was confirmed in an interview or at least alluded to that he does? aside from what we see in the 6x07 promo with sus therapist hopefully. there’s so much he’s holding onto that i don’t think he’s ever fully processed any of it like the majority of his life has been to be in survival mode?

If he does do you think part of it is so that he can a better man for Lucy the kind that he thinks she deserves?

yes and no. from how he broke up with her, i don’t see him going about getting help and healing for her, i think he’ll do it because he needs to. he needs to do it for himself, to heal from the scars he carries and forgive himself to see that he's worthy of so much. i think that would have been an entirely different conversation if he was gonna get help to be someone who he thinks lucy deserves. but i do believe he’ll become that person again though as a result from it.

Do you Lucy will get the help she needs?

i also really hope so. lucy bottles things just as much as tim does except she does a much better job at hiding it because she comes off as such an open book that you’d never know. i think the break up will be the tipping point? ngl, i'm struggling a little more to understand her storyline because it doesn't seem as clear. we know it'll be regarding her mental health but i thought it was going to be fully kicked off with the shooting and then it wasn't? so i'm guessing the break up might be the tipping point? because there's so much she also hasn't processed that she really does need to. i also hope she's able to see the support system she actually has because they keep isolating her and she's not alone but she feels alone which is only going to be magnified by tim walking away (and likely? tamara moving out).

Do you think the writers will go the route of having them date others before returning to each other or do you think it will be attempt #2 that will stick?

i don't think so, at least i hope not. i find it really hard to imagine either of them dating someone else because of why they broke up like they didn't stop loving each other: tim walked away because he thought he was doing what was best for her and lucy was literally grasping for him as he kissed her goodbye. the fact that they were joking about grandkids on their second date, nonchalantly discussing their own kids when they lost jordy, they were building a future with each other. how do you move on from that when you found the person you want to spend your life with? i think attempt #2 will be the one that sticks but i don't think it's going to be easy or quick, there's so much pain there and aside from breaking her heart he also broke her trust but because of it i do think they'll come back even stronger.

#answered #anonymous #the rookie #chenford

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dystopicjumpsuit · 7 months

Text

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 7

Wind in Dry Grass

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: angst; mentions of blood and injury; vomit; implied alcohol abuse

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The team grapples with the aftermath of the mission to 79's.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Our dried voices, when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Gregor was uncharacteristically subdued as he piloted the freighter through hyperspace. Echo watched him out of the corner of his eye. The commando’s simmering rage the previous night had burnt itself out quickly, but he had been noticeably tense that morning when Rex had ordered him, Echo, and Fireball to scout the Balmorra system. Echo had half expected Gregor to refuse to leave Cerra’s side, but he had stalked wordlessly to the freighter and prepped the ship for departure.

Fireball napped in the crew quarters, avoiding them both. Echo still wasn’t certain how a simple recon mission had gone so spectacularly wrong. One minute, Cerra had been chatting up a few troopers, and the next, Gregor was carrying her into the garage as she bled all over the floor. The holofeed from Gregor’s surveillance cam was dark and blurry, and it had been impossible to make out in any detail what had happened to Cerra when she went to the refresher. Gregor flatly refused to discuss it.

The audio feeds, though, had been crystal clear, and so had the anguish in Gregor’s voice as he carried Cerra to safety. Echo had never seen him so shaken, not even when he was running for his own life. Still, his hands had been steady as he’d pulled shards of glass out of Cerra’s hand and stitched the wounds closed. He’d moved with an efficiency that demonstrated that he still remembered his training, regardless of whatever else he’d lost on Abafar.

Once Cerra was resting safely, that intense focus and self-control had cracked. Gregor’s fury as he lashed out at Rex was so out of character that Echo wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t witnessed it.

“Better wake up Fireball,” Gregor said, interrupting Echo’s train of thought. “We’re coming up on Balmorra.”

True to his word, they dropped out of hyperspace within minutes. The planet loomed before them, a grim and hostile sphere of churning gray. Echo began his scan.

He cursed. “Place is a fortress.”

Gregor shot him an inquisitive look.

“There’s a facility down there, all right,” Echo said. “But security is so tight we wouldn’t be able to land before they blew us out of the sky.”

“What are their defenses?” Gregor asked.

“Sensor buoys in the atmosphere. Automated anti-aircraft cannons. Gun turrets on the facility. Unknown number of ground forces. And the facility itself is dug into a mountain. There is no way we can get in there. We couldn’t even breach the atmosphere without being detected.”

“Can you tell what the facility is?” Fireball asked.

“If I had to guess?” Echo asked grimly. “I’d say a prison.”

“Then who are the prisoners?” Gregor asked, staring out the viewport at the forbidding planet before them.

“Don’t know,” Echo said, “but I’m not sticking around long enough to become one of ‘em. Let’s head back to Coruscant. We can report to Rex on route.”

Cerra was dead. She was in hell. There was no other explanation. She had died and was being tortured for her misdeeds for all eternity. Her head throbbed. Her throat was raw and parched. Her stomach roiled. Searing agony shot through her hand. She groaned and cracked open one eye to see the deserted garage.

Not dead, then. At least, not yet.

The shop was totally silent. A bottle of water and two painkiller tablets sat on a table next to her. As she reached for the bottle and caught sight of her bandaged hand, the disastrous events of the previous night came back to her in a rush.

“Kriff,” she rasped.

She swallowed the painkillers, then took a drink of the blessedly cool water, swishing it through her fuzzy mouth. She pushed off the blanket that covered her and saw that somebody had removed the cursed high heels, but she was still wearing Rafa’s dress, and it was spattered with blood.

“Ah, karabast. Rafa’s gonna kill me.”

The room spun around her as she forced herself to sit up. She waited a moment for the nausea to subside before she stood and made her way to the kitchenette. To her surprise, Rex stood next to the caf machine.

“I thought everyone was gone,” she croaked.

“The others are following a lead,” he said as he turned to her. Exhaustion was etched deeply under his eyes, and his face sported a massive bruise and a split lip.

“Kark me,” she cursed. “I didn’t do that to you, did I?”

Rex smiled painfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, kid. You couldn’t land a hit on me stone-cold sober.”

“What happened, then?” she asked.

“I ran into a pipe,” Rex said.

Cerra arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him and immediately regretted it when pain lanced through her head. “Don’t lie to me before caf.”

“Fine,” Rex sighed. “I ran into a fist.”

“Whose fist?” Cerra demanded.

“Doesn’t matter. I deserved it,” Rex said, handing her the cup of caf he’d made.

“I doubt that,” Cerra said, chugging the caf as she retrieved the small medkit that they kept in the kitchenette. “Come here and sit down.”

Rex sat obediently on a crate, and Cerra dabbed bacta on his lip. He stared up at her as she worked, his amber eyes—Fives’s eyes—clouded with remorse.

It’s not him.

“Sorry about last night,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go.”

Cerra frowned. “At least we got some intel. Yeah, it sucked, but you were right; there was no other option.”

Rex shook his head. “No. I should have found another way. I will find another way. I won’t put you through that again.”

“Well,” Cerra said in a speculative tone, “Gregor did suggest that you could wear the dress next time.”

Rex laughed and then winced. “Stop making jokes. It hurts to laugh.”

“Who’s joking? I bet you’d look great in those heels.”

She finished treating his injury and returned the medkit to its shelf.

“Do, uh, you want to talk about it?” Rex asked, his voice tight with discomfort.

Cerra pretended to misunderstand him. “About how you’d look in this dress? Probably better than me.”

He didn’t laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“What do you want me to say, Rex?” she sighed.

“You could start by telling me how you ended up with half a kilo of glass in your hand.”

She shrugged. “The usual way.”

“Let me guess. It ran into a mirror.”

“The mirror had it coming,” she said flippantly.

His eyebrows furrowed. “How many drinks did you have?”

“Two,” Cerra said, instantly defensive.

“One of them was a double,” Rex pointed out. “And what about before you got to the club?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because you put the mission and your squad and yourself at risk,” he said. He was using his Captain Rex voice—the voice of command—and it raised her hackles instantly.

“Kraytshit,” she snapped. “You got your intel, and everybody is fine.”

“Dank farrik, you aren’t fine!” Rex exclaimed. “And you drew attention that we don’t need.”

“Everybody important is fine,” she bit out. “And don’t use that farking voice on me, Rex. You’re not a captain any more, and I’m not a lieutenant. We’re both just deserters.”

Rex’s jaw dropped. He stared at her in shock, and Cerra knew she’d gone too far, but she was so angry; and she was so tired; and her head hurt; and when she looked at him, all she could see was Fives’s eyes, so full of pain; and her heart felt like it was shattering all over again when he looked at her like that.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stand it any more.

She needed out.

She needed air.

She spun on her heel and stormed out of the garage. Neon signs and airspeeder headlights flashed disorientingly, and she stumbled as she crossed the landing platform. She barely made it to the edge before she vomited. She retched over and over until her stomach was empty, and then she collapsed, knees drawn up to her chest as she hunched over them. Her body shuddered, and her eyelashes were suspiciously damp, but at least she could pretend it was just from the effort of throwing up.

The wind in the underworld portal never stopped blowing, and she closed her eyes as it washed over her. If she ignored the smell, she could almost imagine she was back home on Corellia, feeling the ocean breeze.

Heavy footsteps approached, and Cerra knew Rex was giving her an out if she still needed space. She’d seen him move in total silence while wearing a full kit of armor and a heavy kama. She stayed where she was, but she didn’t open her eyes. He sat next to her with a sigh.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Me neither.”

She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. He quietly offered her a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she said. She rinsed out her mouth and then drank the rest of the bottle. When she finished, Rex spoke.

“Do I make you feel like you’re not important?” he asked.

“No!” she said immediately. “Of course not.”

“Then why would you say that?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

It was a lie. She knew she didn’t have the clones’ fighting skills, endurance, or discipline. Beyond that, they had an inherent bond of brotherhood that she could only observe from the outside. She’d once shared a similar bond with her own family, but she had lost it along with their respect when she deserted. Rex let her tag along with his squad out of pity and some sense of obligation, but last night had demonstrated how much of a liability she was.

It was true that she was useful for gaining access to locations and resources that were barred to clones, but Trace, Rafa, or any other nat-born could do the same, and they could manage it without teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown. The fact of the matter was that Rex would probably be better off without her. But she had nowhere else to go, and selfishly, she clung to him as the last shred of connection to her former life.

Rex spoke hesitantly. “Cerra, what you told those troopers last night, was it true? Were you and Fives married?”

She could lie. She wanted to lie. She wanted to tell Rex that it had just been a sympathy ploy to gain the troopers’ trust. But it didn’t make much difference now, so she told the truth.

“Yes.”

Rex’s face crumpled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I would have been court-martialed if anyone found out,” Cerra said. “Fives would have been sent back to Kamino for reconditioning or worse. You know the risks as well as I do.”

“I would have helped you!” Rex exclaimed. “Gods, Cerra, I never would have betrayed you or Fives.”

“I know,” she said. “But we didn’t want you to have to carry that responsibility on top of everything else.”

“Did anyone else know?”

“Only Tup,” Cerra said. “He witnessed it.”

“I wish you had told me,” he said.

“I guess we’re both too good at keeping secrets,” she whispered.

An uncomfortable silence descended as they both stared out into the abyss of the underworld. Cerra’s head swam miserably, the swirling lights of the traffic making her dizzy and nauseated. She forced herself not to look away, feeling as though she deserved the punishment after her spectacular failure.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save them,” Rex said quietly. “You could never blame me more than I blame myself.”

She whipped her head to the side to stare at him. “I don’t blame you, Rex. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more. I should have—”

“You did everything you could,” she interrupted firmly.

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

“Stop it,” she snapped. “You can’t think like that. We can’t change the past.”

“Then what can we do?” he asked, sounding as lost and helpless as she felt.

“Keep fighting,” she said. “The only way we know how.”

Rex sighed and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “It was Gregor.”

Cerra stared at him blankly at the abrupt change of subject. “What?”

“This,” he gestured at his split lip.

“Gregor hit you?” she asked, astonished. The idea of Gregor—sweet, kind, funny, laid-back Gregor—hitting Rex, of all people, was incomprehensible. “Why?”

“He was afraid for you. We all were.”

Cerra sagged under the weight of her guilt. “Oh, Rex. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” he said. “Cerra, I know you’ve been through hell, but you don’t have to do it alone. I am here for you. Let me help.”

Her throat tightened, and those pesky tears stung her eyes again. She blinked rapidly to clear them. Gods, her head hurt.

“Do we really have to do this now?” she asked.

“You can’t push everything down forever,” he said.

“Watch me,” she said with a strangled laugh.

“Gonna have to talk about it at some point.”

“I tried,” she said. “I thought maybe Echo… But it just stirred everything back up again.”

Rex frowned. “When did you talk to Echo?”

“Yesterday morning, while we were on the supply run.”

Rex cursed. “That why you were off last night?”

“That and other reasons,” Cerra said, not wanting to elaborate.

“Wish you’d told me.”

“You had more important things to worry about,” she said.

Rex frowned. “There it is again. ‘More important.’ Cerra, you are part of this team. You are important, and not just to me and Gregor.”

She didn’t believe him, but she nodded anyway, desperate to end the conversation. “Thanks, Cap. I’ll get my shit together, I swear. I won’t endanger the mission again.” Rex looked like he wanted to say more, but Cerra stood and brushed herself off. “I should go wash off all this blood. Come get me if you hear from the team?”

He nodded, and Cerra hurried to the refresher, where she took a long, long shower. When she finished, she tossed Rafa’s dress into a bucket of cold water and hoped for the best. It was a struggle to get into her coveralls with only one functional hand, but she managed. Then she went to the kitchenette and dug through the conservator, hoping to find something greasy and unhealthy to take the edge off her hangover. She found nothing in the conservator except ingredients, thanks to Gregor’s obsession with feeding them all home-cooked meals, so she gave up and choked down a dry ration bar.

She missed Kix and Jesse. Jesse would have been cracking jokes and making her laugh through their shared misery, while Kix doled out his magical hangover cures and lectured them both about proper hydration. She missed Tup. Sweet, adorable Tup, who’d been practically glued to Fives’ side after Umbara and had become the closest thing Cerra ever had to a younger brother. How many times had she, Fives, and Tup nursed identical headaches while secretly regretting nothing? Standing duty while hungover was practically a GAR tradition. Except those assholes bounced back twice as fast thanks to their enhanced metabolisms, and they never failed to tease her about it.

Rex’s commlink chimed, jolting Cerra out of her reverie. He answered it, and the flickering blue hologram revealed Echo, Gregor, and Fireball in the cockpit of the freighter.

“Boys,” Rex greeted them.

“Rex,” Echo said. “We completed our scan of the Balmorra system and are headed back to base.”

“Sitrep,” Rex ordered.

Cerra suppressed a dry laugh. He just couldn’t turn off the habit of command.

“There’s a large Imperial facility. Heavy fortifications. We’re going to need detailed intel about what’s down there before we make a move,” Echo replied.

“You didn’t get close enough to tell?” Rex asked.

“Negative, Captain,” Fireball replied. “Planetary security was too tight.”

Gregor carefully avoided looking at the holocomm, instead fiddling with the controls of the ship.

“I’ll give a full report when we arrive, but I don’t think we could take that place with an army,” Echo said grimly.

Rex grunted. “Might not have to. I’ll do some digging and see what I can find about what the Empire is keeping down there. In the meantime, we’ll follow up on Cerra’s lead about high-ranking clone officers who’ve gone AWOL.”

“Copy that. ETA nine standard hours. Echo out.”

---

Next chapter

#tbb echo #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #the bad batch #star wars #bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfiction #stars beyond number #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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gettinshiggywithit · 1 year

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!Ranpo with an s/o who prefers spicy snacks over sweets!

Scenario:- Ranpo tries spicy snaccs!

Pairing:- Ranpo Edogawa x gn!reader

Genre:- fluff

Type:- oneshot/hc

Honestly,one thing that brought you together was your love for snacks

Although you liked savoury and he liked sweet

It didnt really matter tho

At first~

Everyone knew that ranpo edogawa didnt share food,and they all soon learned that neither did you :’)

But the only exception to your rule seemed to be eachother

He was a bit reluctant to try your snacks,but seeing you enjoy them(the pure look of satisfaction and enjoyment on your face always made it obvious that you were eating) made him want to try them too!

So one fine day he suggested you both swap snacks

You looked at your spicy bites and then at his marshmallows,deciding it wouldn’t be the worst to switch over to sweet for a second to calm your taste buds,you agreed and the swap was made.

You started gobbling up his marshmallows and the switch from crunchy and spicy to soft and sweet definitely helped you,it almost balanced it out!(perfectly balanced;as all things should be!)

But ranpo....he was a little adamant to try yours.

Now you were the kind of person to keep eatin ur snacks even if your mouth was SCREAMING for relief.you just loved the flavour!

But um,ranpo didnt wanna go thru that so he hesitated,contemplating whether or not he should just swap back your bites for his mallows

You saw this and clarified that these one’s werent the rly spicy ones,they were mild at best.

And after hearing that he popped the first one into his mouth!

It was a stark contrast from his usual nom-ings(yes ik thats not a word it just sounded right!) but he welcomed the challenge!

After all, a master detective should be flexible,adaptable and able to withstand anything!

He took bite after bite,digging into the bag like a raccoon in a trashcan! And soon your bag was finished!

He tossed it aside and drank from his bottle of cream soda before looking back to you,who had done the same(finished the snacks i mean!)

“Soo...,” you began, “how were they??”

He thought for a second before replying, “a stark difference to be sure but a welcome one...although....i think I’ll stick to my sweets thank youuu very much~”

You laughed to yourself and shook your head

“Sure ranpo,go ahead”

And with that you each opened your next bag of snacks and dug in

While you were enjoying yours,you felt eyes watching you ,and sure enough when you looked at ranpo he was watching you.

“Want some??” You asked,shaking the bag in front of him.

He looked back to his bag,then to you,your bag and then back to his.

“Dont worry i wont take any of yours...” you said knowing he was wondering whether taking yours would mean hed have to give you some of his again.

But after Your clarification,he took a few pieces and popped em into his mouth

He uh quickly regretted not trying one first

These ones were significantly spicier than the one he’d had before and the effect it had on his tongue was causing him to chug his soda and the next one too

Soon once he felt better he cleared his throat and glared at you snack bag,clutching his to his chest and holding on for dear life

After a few seconds, he hissed out in a tone filled with the purest sense of betrayal, “NEVER AGAIN!” And then went back to practically inhaling his gummy bears

You laughed again and them resumed your snacking too, “dont worry popo,we’ll build up your spice tolerance!”

“NOOOOO THANK YOU.”

“Oh well.” You said with a shrug as you made a mental note to definitely make him build up his spice tolerance~(but not if he really doesnt wanna k?!🔪)

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but these stories? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Comments & Reblogs w/ tags >>>>>>>>>>>likes please

Taglist open for anyone interested!

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queenvidal · 2 years

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No Means Yes

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 1: Blessing In Disguise

Chapter Summary: After receaving a severe injury during one of your usual scouting trips, you get tied down in Alexandria to recover. The rift between you and you father grows larger but you can barly focus on that when someone else is demanding your attention.

Wordcount: 2633

Era: Season 7 - Part 2 of the The One And Only Series -

Note: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language.

Chapter Index: Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

This is such a waste of time, you think to yourself as you look at the map in front of you. It’s already way past midnight and all you want to do is to catch some much needed sleep. Your group met up in your kitchen, fighting over where to go for the next runs and while you are the town's scout, your opinion seems to matter little to nothing to your father.

There is not enough food left for much longer, leaving the town's scavengers with the task of figuring out where to go next and to add some more pressure does the next run have to be a guaranteed success, or your people will either starve or someone will get a meet and greet with Lucille.

After the talk you had with Negan, he gave your father two weeks to find enough food. But one week is already over and because of your failure two days ago there is almost nothing left, not in the pantry, not in the sewers.

Rick is leaning above the kitchen table with his hands, his jaw tense in concentration. Daryl is nibbling at his thumb, Sasha and Rosita sitting at the table in silence and Michonne is pacing back and forth.

A large map of Virginia is spread out across the table with several pin needles used as markers. You look at a red one that’s sticking out of Lexington. You’ve been there on your last trip. A passing herd of walkers forced you to crash in there for the night. While on the run from the walkers, careful not to get detected, you had no choice but to take shelter in a motel that was probably already run-down before the apocalypse.

When you inspected the room you ran into, you noticed a hole in the floor and before you could react the complete floor gave in and you fell two stories down. After the dust settled, you crawled out of the rubble agonizingly slow, every fiber of your body hurt like hell. Your lungs burned with every breath you took and moving made you want to cry out in pain.

The fact that you survived the fall at all was nothing short but a miracle.

But you couldn't rejoice at your luck for long, attracted by the noise, the horde slowly moved towards the motel and you heard the moaning soon after you managed to pull yourself into a standing position. The two bags you had with you were still in the rubble, but once you leaned down to grab them the pain got overwhelming. The walkers got closer and eventually you climbed out of a window, groaning out in pain as you squeezed yourself through it and started running again a few streets back to your car, leaving the loot behind.

“No, that’s too dangerous.” Your father finally says from his side on the table, running a hand through his hair.

You roll your eyes in annoyance. “There are two already packed up bags. We just have to get in and grab them.”

“No.” He insists in a harsher tone this time. “You could have died, Y/N.”

“Yeah, so what? The floor already came down, it’s not like it will do that again.”

“We’ll pick ‘em up.” Daryl quietly announces. “When we head for Richwood, it’s practically on the way, might as well go grab ‘em.”

Finally some progress! You look back at Daryl and suggest, “I can draw you a map, the window should be large enough for Sasha to fit through.”

“Sounds good to me,” the other woman says.

“Fine,” Rick agrees, though not whole-heartedly. “Now we have to make a plan for team C.”

You voted for walking among the dead again but was quickly shut down by Michonne. The groups are too weak for that and although you agree, you don’t see any other way around it, since every other suggestion of yours was denied. Still you try, “There is still Hanover in Pennsylvania.”

“No.” Rick quickly turns you down, leaning down on the table again. “That's too far out, we can’t be gone for that long.”

You shake your head in response, at this pace you guys will be still sitting here at sunrise. “It’s the only area I haven’t been to so far, Dad-”

“And that’s the problem.” He sighs. “We can’t drive out to other states if we don’t know what we are dealing with."

“But we do know what we're gonna deal with if we don’t move out soon,” you state divisively. Just because Negan took a liking in you, doesn’t mean he won’t go hard on you and your people if the once steady flow of supplies keeps dwindling.

“I have to go with Y/N here, Rick.” Rosita breaks her silence. “We have scavenged pretty much every spot that was worth looking at.”

Daryl nods at a yellow pin in West Virginia, “When we went to Charleston, there were still places that were too overrun for us to look at, we could try that again.”

Michonne shakes her head, “We already said that we’re not fit enough to walk among.”

“You said that. I'm still down for it" You say with a wave of your hand. "It’s not like we have a choice really.”

Michonne's eyes don’t even leave the map when she reminds you, “You are not down for anything for the next two months, Y/N.”

Another eye roll, at this point you wouldn't be surprised if they got stuck in the back of your head one day. But unfortunately Michone is right, you can barely sit straight. At first you thought you might got yourself some broken ribs but to your surprise it seems like you’ve only bruised them, but that doesn’t mean it doesn't hurt like fucking hell.

Rick pinches the bridge of his nose, the stress is clearly taking a toll on him. No food, you barely escaping certain death and now being one scavenger short due to your injuries. Negan's deadline is just the cherry on top. “How much is still in the sewers?”

“Nothing.” You almost whisper and everyone looks up to meet your eyes as if they misheard you. “We have enough food for about six more days, eleven if we cut down rations again.”

"Goddammit," Rick sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair again.

“Y/N knows the area better than any of us.” Sasha points out softly. “We should at least consider her ideas, despite the possible dangers, Rick.”

You smile at that. It's so rare to hear a word of validation and it makes you happy every time with pride swelling in your chest. Finally Rick lets his hand drop to his side, looking back at the map again. “Okay, Y/N. We have team C and A, give us a direction.”

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

The fresh winter cold is seeping through the closed windows of Alexandria's infirmary. As usual around this time you are at work, studying medical journals and books you found on your last scouting trip that wasn’t a total failure.

The Saviors can be heard working outside but you pay them and their noise no mind. It’s been your fathers idea to keep you out of their sight and it was one of the rare occasions the two of you agreed on something.

You didn’t tell anybody about Negan's talk about the food situation and of course not about the offer to become a Savior yourself. Somehow you had the feeling mentioning that to your father or to anyone else really would only cause more drama and you and the town really don’t need more of that.

But the offer never really left your head. Even though you have absolutely no desire in participating in their bloodlusting and brutal ways, it still feels good to at least have a plan B if you and the town fall out again. Everything would be better than being on your own again, while manageable it never was pleasant.

It should be wrong to even consider the offer, shouldn’t it? You saw the Saviors taking pleasure in hunting you and your friends down, killing you and you have been there at the clearing, you saw Ab and Glenn die.

But you also saw Negan, the head of the Saviors no less, actually care about you, you wouldn’t have got the opportunity otherwise. You still remember how worried he looked when Michael attacked you and how pissed he was when he learned you were not eating.

He could have killed you at the clearing but he didn’t. He could have let Michael finish you but he didn’t. He could have let your cut get infected but he didn't. He could have killed you for disobedience but he didn't.

Instead, he offered you to join him.

Goddamn, Y/N, concentrate! The voice in your head admonishes you. You try to get your constantly wandering mind back to your task.

While reading about the cuff & collar technique, you’re subconsciously warming your hands on the cup in front of you. Carl brought you breakfast about half an hour ago, stale and tasteless oats soaked in hot water. The food quality declined steadily, with the Saviors always taking the best findings and with not enough supplies to hide, there is nothing good left for you and your people.

But you don’t complain. It may not be very tasty nor nutritious, but it will keep the hunger away and at this point, you are grateful for even still being able to eat at all. Though that doesn’t mean it comes easy to you. Afraid of eventually running out of food again, you still kept purposefully missing the food distribution in the mornings. Carl noticed, he always does and so he brought you your ration for the morning, said eating only in the evening on the wall during your guard shifts won’t be enough for you. And he was right. You took every nightshift for the last weeks, getting weaker and less concentrated with every passing day you skipped meals.

You take a spoon full of oats and force them down with an audible glumb. Damn, you would kill for a burger right now. Suddenly you hear the door open, but you don’t bother to look up. Annoyed, you grumble, “I am eating, Carl. Leave me alone.”

“I’ll let him know, if I see him.”

Oh shit. The all too familiar voice of the man that's been plaguing your mind for months now makes your head snap up. "Negan, sorry.” Heat settles on your cheeks, you didn’t mean to be rude. “Thought it’s one of Carl's control check ups.”

“Nope.” Negan closes the door behind him, “Just one of mine.”

The head of the Saviors saunters further into the room until he reaches the old cot to lean against it, Lucille casually hanging at his side. “Why would your brother need to do control check ups on you?”

You look into your still steaming mug, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious about it. “He… he just wants to ensure I don’t forget to eat, that's all.”

“Still not eating, sunshine?” He asks with a mixture of concern and annoyance in his tone.

The heat on your face only intessevies at the nickname. “Not much. Got caught this morning.”

He rolls his eyes at you and asks, “Shouldn’t there be enough food? I’ve told the fat lady to tell my guys how much you need.”

You furrow your brows at how he addresses Olivia. He really is a dick sometimes. But you ignore his nasty remark in order to continue on with the conversation “Well, yeah.” You poke the mush in your mug with the spoon, unwilling to meet Negan's eyes. “But it’s kind of my fault we have to cut down the rations again.”

Negan frowns at you. “How so?”

You let go of your mug and finally look at him to tell him what has happened on the last run, the walkers, the motel, the lost loot. “All teams are out now and won't be back until the end of the deadline next week.”

During your story his eyebrows rose expentionaly. “Shit, doll. Not me complaining here, but how are you still in one piece?”

You shrug your shoulders and regret that immediately when sharp pain's shooting right through your torso. The complete left side of you hurts at your every move and your ribs are in all shades of black and blue. You took a few painkillers this morning, but it's been only able to slightly dull the pain.

“My luck still hasn’t run out, I guess,” you joke lightly. “But I’ll be out of order for at least six weeks, if not eight. Ribs tend to heal slowly and the pain keeps me from working, anyway. Just sitting down here was close to turture.”

Negan noods towards the cupboard you store the potent meds in. “Shouldn’t you have some stuff still in stock?”

“Yeah, but at this point all I’ve got is as effective as a TicTac. I actually need opioids.”

“Well, I don’t have opioids on me, but maybe something else to relieve the pain.” He says suggestively, with a small smile on his face. “Got time?”

“Of course,” you say, emphasizing it by closing your book.

With a smile on his lips, Negan fetches the roller stool to sit down across from you at your desk. He zips down his signature leather jacket and fumbles for something in his inside pockets. The clincking of glas makes you crook an eyebrow. He smiles from ear to ear when placing down two bottles of beer.

Your eyes land on their label but you don’t recognise them. Bewildered, you ask him, “Wait, did you bring those with you?”

“Sure did.” His smile doesn’t falter.

What the hell, why would he do that, you wonder but don’t know how to ask him without sounding ungrateful. With a faint smile on your face you go for, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Negan chuckles at that and opens up the bottles with his combat knife. “Figured we should get to know each other, considering we’ll be working together in the future.” Once open, he hands you one of them and you take it without your eyes leaving his.

Both of you take a sip before you remind him, “I mean I’d be stupid to say no to a good beer, but I did say no to your offer, Negan.”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “For now, sure. But the offer is still on the table.”

You can’t help but smile at his presistens. “Are you trying to wear me down with your personal beverages?”

“Pretty and intelligent,” he chuckles and it throws you back to a memory that seems to be years old. When he was in your infirmary for the first time and said exactly that. You still remember how nervous and actually scared you were of him. But now, months and several talks later, both feelings slowly got silent. But you are still weary of your words around him, it’s still Negan who you are talking to after all.

He keeps smiling his wolfish grin at you. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Fine by me.” And you would be lying if you’d said you don't like the attention. Negan's attention. You take another sip from the beer before asking in a teasing tone. “Alright, what would you like to know, boss?”

The bright smile he’s casting you in response to that is enough to bring a warm blush on your face again. What the hell are you doing, you ask yourself in a clear moment but quickly decide to ignore the voice in your head.

This could be interesting.

Chapter Index: Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

#The Walking Dead #negan smith #negan x oc #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan / reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #michonne #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #twd #twd fanfiction

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raised-u-fr0m-perdition · 2 months

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we could be more | dean winchester | 8

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ROLLING IN THE DEEP - ADELE

“Miss Ivonne Rainer.” A dude with black hair and green eyes stepped into the room, holding a case file. He was around my age, well built, and judging by the confidence, high up in the precinct. He was also, now that I mention it, sexy. “You’ve got a very chequered past, by the looks of it.”

“I’m not playing chess, mate, so just cut to the chase.” I retorted, tapping my watch. “You’ve got 48 hours, so why not tell me your name so we can move things a bit quicker?”

”Detective Sergeant James Rhodes.” He showed me his badge.

“Where’s the bad cop, eh?”

”With Dean Winchester. Good cop’s with Sam, and the even worse cop is with you.”

”I feel special. Flattered.” I smiled sarcastically. “Why are you holding us?”

”Your buddy Dean is being held on charges for suspicion of murder.”

I frowned, leaning forward. “Murder?!”

”You sound genuinely surprised. You should’ve gone to acting school.”

”Who could he have murdered?”

“We’re getting onto that.” He replied, opening a file and giving me a once over with a hint of red on his cheeks. I smirked a little, leaning back in my chair. “Let’s just look through your file first. I’ve got a lot of research on you, Ivonne. You’re 27, born in ‘79 in Jersey to Michael Rainer and Audrey Rainer neé Singer. You went to a good primary, got a score of 174 on your LSATs, an almost perfect score on your SATs and scored a full ride to Princeton on the course of economics while trying to help your younger sister Quinn battle cancer, which ultimately failed.” I gritted my teeth. “But, here’s the catch. One year after your admission, you were forced to drop out due to your father’s untimely death, a murder which was never solved. Do you want me to continue?”

I stayed silent.

“Tough crowd. About a month after your father’s death, you were the centre of an open and shut case eight years ago in which your brother Carter descended into insanity and killed your family by sticking knives into their throats, and also killed your mother’s unborn child. However, in defence, you shot him after he tried to do the same to you. You were proven innocent after a CCTV recording placed Carter as the killer of your sister Lily and your mother. You went off the grid, but then conveniently seven or eight years later, you were kidnapped by your boyfriend Xavier Jackson, but you broke free, wrestled for his gun and shot him twice, killing him. Your witness? Sam Winchester.”

“You done relating my life story?” I scoffed. “I’ll admit it, you’re cute and this macho, intimidation act is as well, but if you’re aiming to take me out to dinner after this, you’re gonna have to take a step back and reassess the situation.” He looked taken aback, and I nodded. “I’ve met people like you before, Serge, and I know exactly how to deal with them.”

“We’re here to discuss Dean Winchester.”

”And so far all you’ve done is relate something that isn’t important and check me out.” I smirked. “Get on with it, will you?”

”Why I listed every bit of your family history is because one thing doesn’t add up.” He put down the file. “How you ended up with the Winchester brothers. You have no connection to them. Your family had no contact with the Winchesters. So how did you end up with a man who’s charged with assault, murder and grave desecration and his brother?”

“I found them.” I frowned, pulling out my dad’s journal. “Read about John, Sam and Dean Winchester, knew I had to find ‘em. I had a stalker after me. Not anymore, but Dad’s journal knew that they could help me and they did.”

”What about Tony and Karen Giles?”

”Anthony Giles was a friend of John Winchester.” I explained. “I went with Sam and Dean once they found out that he was dead, throat slit with no trace of any bad things happening in Giles’ life to make him do such a thing.”

“There you go.” Sam gave Dean and I a cup of coffee while Dean handed Sam a paper while I dried my hair with a t-shirt. I was wearing a baggy black cashmere jumper with jeans, my necklace around my neck as usual.

“Anthony Giles.” Dean stated.

“Who’s Anthony Giles?” I asked, leaning in with my hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“He’s a Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.”

I read the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Room was clean, throat was slit… but no DNA or prints.”

”Keep reading. It gets better.”

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” Sam muttered.

“So either someone tampered with the tapes, or…”

“There’s an invisible killer.”

“My favorite kind. What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?”

“I’m not Scully. You’re Scully.”

“No, I'm Mulder. You're a red-headed woman.”

“You two are idiots, more like.” I sighed. “Let me dry my hair, then we’ll head out.”

“C’mon, Beanie,” Dean laughed, “you look good with wet hair.”

“Then again, it doesn’t feel great in cold air.” I winked. “Maybe next time.” I rifled through my box of IDs, buying my lip. “Who are we today?”

“Insurance investigators.”

“I’ll get my suit from the Mustang.”

“But, if you think about it, Dean couldn’t have murdered Tony, being at my house, right?” I asked.

“You’re right.” He nodded. “Tell me what happened next.”

“We went to see Karen, to help her keep herself together. And boy, she was fallin’ apart.”

Karen Giles sat on her sofa, sniffling and wiping her nose on a tissue. “Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance.” She whispered, holding back the fifth wave of tears.

“We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand.” Sam pressed on, and she nodded. I forgot to mention, we were insurance investigators.

“Sure.”

“So, if you could tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.” I asked, sitting down next to her.

“Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it.” Karen recounted, and I nodded.

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?”

“No, like I told the police, I… I have no idea.”

”Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked.

“Unusual…”

“Yeah, like… strange?”

“Strange?”

“Y’know, like… weird noises, visions-“ I cleared my throat, stopping Dean.

“He had a nightmare the day before he died.” She whispered, and Carl wrote it down on my flip notebook, and I was loosely holding the pen to give an impression that I was writing and not a magic pen.

“What kind of a nightmare?” Sam frowned.

“Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare.”

“Did he say what she looked like?” Dean asked.

“What the hell difference does it make of what she looked like?!”

“Our company’s thorough, Mrs Giles.” I smiled, stepping in to save Dean’s butt. Again. “We’d like to get a detailed description of the days prior to the incident so then we can make a good analysis. As many details as you can spare, if that’s ok.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, calming down, while Carl wrote down ‘good job’ on the paper. “He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes.”

“Thank you for your time.” I gave Karen a side hug, giving her my fake calling card, but had my burner phone number. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I told Karen to call me if she had any problems and then we set off.”

“Doesn’t explain why you broke into Anthony Giles’ office.” He persisted.

“Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in- like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. She gave us the key. It wasn’t a break in.”

“Hey. Anthony Giles' body was found right about here.” Sam gestured.

“Throat slit so deep, part of his spinal cord was showing.” I read out, sitting at the computer.

Dean whistled. “What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?”

“Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed.” Sam shrugged. I found something at the printer, whipping it out.

“Take a look at this.” I showed it to them. It had the word/thing ‘danashulps’ written all over it. “Dana Shulps.”

“A name?”

“A name that’s everywhere.” Dean chuckled. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Sam checked the desk, shining his torch down. Then he breathed on it, revealing the word Dana Shulps. “Well, I think we’ve crossed over to a whole new level of weird.”

“Tell me about it.” I typed quickly, trying to crack the password to Giles’ computer.

”Maybe Giles knew her.” Dean suggested.

“Or it’s the name of our red-eyed mystery girl.” Sam shrugged. We went through available files, I scoured the internet, hacked into police databases, but…

“Nada.” I grimaced. “No girl name Dana Shulps ever died a horrible death or even existed. The surname Shulps isn’t even a name.”

“So what now?” Dean groaned.

“I’m a few clicks away from unlocking Giles’ laptop.” I clicked my tongue. “There could be something in his personal files.”

“How long?” Sam asked.

“Fifteen minutes, give or take. Carl, lend a nib.” Carl started helping, while I counted down the seconds until-

There we go.

“Seriously?” Sam sighed.

Dean’s fart noises.

”Your story checks out.” Rhodes nodded, closing the case. “But fact remains that Dean was found at Karen Giles’ murder scene.”

”Fact remains that Dean Winchester saved my life.” I frowned. “On multiple occasions, won’t specify which, and if that warrants anything, it warrants a hell lot of respect and favours. Come on, Serge. You’re smart, it’s obvious. You’re probably the type of guy to take one look at who you’re dealing with and say whether they’re guilty or not. And you’ve taken a long, hard look at Dean. At me, maybe even Sam. Give me your honest opinion. Do you think any of us are guilty?”

”No.” Rhodes admitted. “Facts don’t add up. Dean wasn’t holding a weapon when they found him. He wasn’t present at the murder of Tony Giles. No prints, no DNA, just him conveniently at the scene. But I’ve got nothing else to work with, unless something else is at play here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because a murder isn’t that clean cut.”

“What if it was something else?” I shrugged.

“What are you suggesting?”

“At the crime scene, we found two words written over and over. Dana Shulps.” I showed him the printed paper. “Help me figure out what this means. If you find Dean guilty after this, go ahead, arrest him, put him on trial and get him in prison with a lifer, but for now, consider the fact that he’s innocent.”

James sighed, conceding. “Fine, but it has to look like I’m interrogating you.”

“Not so much of an even worse cop, huh?”

“I bend to reason. Now, Dana.” I wrote down the name, staring at it.

“Best thing I’ve got is an anagram.” I shrugged, tapping a pen on the table.

“Scramble it, then?” We both wrote down the words in different ways, switching things up, thinking, until I got something.

“Ashland sound familiar?” I asked, and he nodded.

“Ashland’s a street name.” A woman knocked and walked in, and she looked to be in her late forties. Her badge read ‘D. Ballard.’

“Detective Ballard.” Rhodes’ demeanour switched up, turning to Ballard with a smug air. Wow, that was quick. Smoother than butter. “How’re things going with Sam Winchester?”

“Story matches Dean’s. How about Rainer?” Ballard replied.

“We’re getting somewhere.” He smirked, glancing back at me. “Miss Rainer and I were having an intense heart to heart, but story still matches the other two’s. Though, I have to say, tough customer. Not sure Pete would be able to keep his cool for long if he had her.”

“I doubt it too.” She nodded. “Keep at it, we can only hold ‘em for 48 hours.” She left, and Rhodes switched again, turning back to me with an easy smile.

“How’d I do?”

“You lie almost as well as I do.” I grinned. “Am I turning a good boy soft?”

“Cut the bad girl act, Rainer.” Rhodes chuckled. “Yeah, I have to admit, I was checking you out, but I can look through a guise if I see one.”

“Again, flattered.”

“You’re a hard case to crack, aren’t you?”

“I like to give people a challenge.” I wrote on the paper. “Get this to Dean and Sam, any way you can without being spotted. They need to know.”

He took the paper, standing up. “I hope to God that you’re right, Rainer.” He left, leaving me to contemplate all my life decisions.

”Trust me, I hope so too.” I sighed.

Rhodes came into my room later, looking grim. “I got you a ticket out, but Dean’s decided to confess. You might wanna come watch.”

“Confess to what, though?” I asked, picking up my leather jacket and putting it on.

“That’s what I wanna find out.” We went into the interrogation room, where they were setting up a camera.

“Beanie.” Dean grinned upon seeing me. “Are you ok?”

”I’m doing fine.” I nodded.

”Your boyfriend decided to confess, sweetheart.” One detective smirked. “Speak directly to the camera, and state your name for the record.”

Dean faced the camera, a smug smirk on his face. Wait, I know what he’s going to do. “My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius.” Here we go. “I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

”Excuse me?” Ballard scoffed.

“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?” Dean shrugged. “Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember ‘REDRUM’. Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there.”

“You arrogant ass.” Detective Sheridan hissed. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes.”

”I’m not joking, Ponch.”

”You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!”

“Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.” Sheridan lost his temper, hauling Dean up by his collar and slamming him against the wall. I was going to step in when Rhodes held me back, other officers jumping in to help.

”Pete!” Ballard gasped.

“That’s ENOUGH!” Rhodes yelled, stopping everyone. “I’ll cuff him myself, just go return to your jobs. Rainer, you stay with me.” Everyone left, leaving Dean, Rhodes and I alone.

“Well done, you locked me up.” Dean grimaced as he looked down at the cuffs now around his wrists. “Whatcha gonna do, gloat?”

”Ask you two if this Casper thing is real.” The answer took Dean aback, and he blinked at Rhodes, wondering why. “I talked to Rainer. The facts don’t add up, and a spirit seems most obvious when it comes to a murder with no prints or DNA.”

“Beanie, you sly fox.” He chuckled. “She can talk her way out of anything.”

”Long story short, yeah, it is.” I nodded. “Shifter is real too, all of the likes of it are.”

”So, Ashland?”

“Street name.” Rhodes nodded. “Why this spirit is trying to tell us that, I’m not sure.”

”The girl died there.” Ballard stepped in, and Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to speak. “Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.”

“I want to know more about the stuff you were talking about earlier.” She gulped.

“Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

”Let’s pretend for a moment that you aren’t entirely insane.”

“Mhmm.”

”What would one of these things be doing here?”

”A vengeful spirit? Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.”

I noticed something on Rhodes’ wrist, and I took out, pushing up his sleeve.

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

”These weren’t there before.” He gulped, looking freaked. Ballard pulled up her sleeve too, showing the bruises.

“You two saw it, didn’t you?” Dean frowned.

“How did you know?” Ballard gasped.

“Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too, it's got something to do with this spirit, I... I don't know what.” He paused, staring at Ballard’s stunned expression as she turned away. “I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?”

“You think we’re going to die.” Rhodes breathed.

“You need to find Sam.” Dean urged. “He can help, and so can Ivonne.”

”You’re giving up your brother.” Ballard stammered.

“Go with Beanie. She’ll find Sam and they can help figure this out. You can arrest him if you want, or you can let him help you.”

“Lead the way, Rainer.” Rhodes agreed, and I immediately walked out of the door, both of them following.

I knocked on Sam’s door at the motel. “Jim Rockford? It’s Tabitha from room service.” Sam opened it immediately, spotting the two behind us. “They saw it. This is James Rhodes and you know Detective Ballard.”

”Get in.” We all got inside, and Sam hugged me before turning to the other two, holding their wrists. “These showed up after you saw it?”

“Yeah.” Rhodes nodded.

“You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. I should be arresting you.” Ballard shakily told us, but we shared a look.

“Fine. Arrest Sam, then.” I shrugged. “After we save your life. For now, just trust us to do this, ok?”

“She’s right, Diana.” Rhodes vouched, and she conceded. I gave him a thankful smile, pulling out Sam’s folder of crime scene photos and booking photos.

“Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?”

“She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood.” Diana stammered.

“Alright.” I showed them the photos. “I’m gonna flick through these one by one, and you’re gonna tell me if you recognise her.” I went through the photos one by one, and then Rhodes cleared his throat when I stopped at one.

“That’s her.” He nodded.

“Yeah.” Diana agreed.

“Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago.” Sam frowned.

“But we don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after us?”

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?”

“Pete, Diana and I did.” Rhodes gulped.

“Did you bust her? Any of you?” I asked.

“I did, but I got her a shorter sentence than she was going to get.”

“It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.”

“What?” Diana coughed.

“Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.” Sam explained.

”Of course it is.”

“You guys go and have a glass of water. Keep an eye on each other. Ivy and I need to talk.” The other two went into the room behind us so Sam and I could have a chat.

“Rhodes seems to be taking it well.” I smiled. “Ballard, not so much.”

“I think Rhodes is taking it well cause of you.” Sam smirked, and laughed when I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t see the sparks. Dean would’ve already commented on it.”

“He’s a man of the law.” I sighed. “I have more fake IDs than I’ve had birthdays.”

“Maybe that’s the danger of it. Forbidden love-“ I slapped him across the head with a piece of paper. “Ow, okay, okay!”

“You better not mention to this to Dean.”

“I think he knows.”

We walked into an abandoned warehouse, my gun drawn just in case.

“A firearm?” Rhodes scoffed.

“It’s licensed, so untwist your boxers.” I smirked.

“So what exactly are we looking for?”

“We’ll let you know once we find it.” Sam informed, then we split up, searching for a possible place to hide a body. I scaled the wall, knocking on it to try and find a bit of hollow wall that I could bust open-

“Sam!” I heard Diana yell, sounding scared. “Sam! James! IVONNE!” All three of us came running back, and we found Diana alone.

“What happened?” I asked. “Did you see Claire?”

“She, she was here.”

“Did she attack you?” Sam questioned, looking around.

“No, she was just… reaching out to me. She was over there by the window.“ There was a shelf blocking the window, so Sam and Rhodes got to work and moved it, revealing the word ‘ASHLAND SUP’.

“I’m guessing the SUP started the word supplies.” I grinned, then followed the reflection to a wall on the other side. “Sam, did you bring the sledgehammer?” Sam held it up, so I took it and started cracking a hole the wall. I peered in, and nodded. “Yep. There’s something here.” Sam joined me and helped me tear the rest of the wall open, revealing Claire Becker’s body.

“God.” Rhodes breathed.

“Something about this is bothering me.” Sam frowned.

“You’re digging up a corpse.” Diana pointed out.

“Digging them up is pretty par for the course. But why would a vengeful spirit lead us to her corpse?” We bent down to take a look, and Diana reached out, touching the necklace.

“Does it mean something to you?” I asked.

“That necklace. It’s rare, custom made on Carson Street.” She pulled out the same one from her neckline. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

“Now this all makes perfect sense.” Sam nodded, piecing it all together.

“What does?” Rhodes frowned. “Apart from Pete killing Claire.”

“Claire’s not a vengeful spirit, she’s a death omen.” I explained. “She’s not killing people, she’s warning them that they’ll die by the same hand she did. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.“

“Detective, how much do you know about your partner?” Sam asked.

“Oh my god.” Diana gasped.

“What?”

“About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

“Someone like a heroin dealer. Someone like Claire.”

“I’m going to make a phone call, find out where Dean is.” Rhodes stood up, pulling out his phone and walking to another corner. “If we’re right, he could be next.”

“Did you bring the Mustang?” Sam asked me, and I held up my keys.

“Yeah.” I nodded, then turned to Claire’s body. “We’ll catch him.”

Rhodes came back, looking freaked again. “Pete just left with Dean. Said he had to be transferred and just took off. He’s not answering the radio, either.”

“We need to cut him off.” I grimaced, cocking my gun. “He’s in a county vehicle, so we need to access the lo-jack and find the route. Let’s go!”

I was driving with my pedal to the metal, with Diana and Sam in the back and Rhodes at the front with me.

“Tell me.” Rhodes turned to me with a smile. “How does a girl like you end up in a job like yours?”

“What do you mean, a girl like me?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re smart, quick on your feet, obviously good with a gun. You got almost perfect scores on your LSAT and SAT, got into Princeton, practically a shoo in almost anywhere. You could’ve been great on the force, instead you’re hunting the impossible.”

“Hunting the impossible seems like a better option, in my opinion.” We reached the GPS location of the county vehicle, appearing behind Sheridan just as he was about to kill Dean.

“Pete!” Diana yelled. “Put the gun down!”

”Diana?” Sheridan gasped. “How'd you find me?”

“I know about Claire.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Put the gun down!”

“Oh, I don't think so. You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked.

“I didn’t do anything, Diana.” Sheridan lied, while I flicked down the safety pin on my gun.

“It’s a little bit late for that.”

“It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.”

“You had a choice, Pete.” Rhodes frowned. “Instead you killed an innocent woman. Then why Tony and Karen?”

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything.” He reasoned. “It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.”

“How many more people are going to die over this, Pete?”

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag.”

“Hey!” Dean barked, but backed away when the gun was turned on him. I rolled my eyes, ready to pounce, but with a gun trained on Dean it wouldn’t be wise.

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you.” I gave Diana a look, but she put her gun down. “Thank you. Thank you.” Sheridan turned to Dean, but then Diana quickly picked up her gun, shooting Pete in the stomach and making him fall, giving Dean time to roll out of the way.

“Then why don’t you buy me another necklace, you ass?!” She hissed, before she was tackled herself, and Sheridan got up, instantly going for the gun, facing off Rhodes and Sam. However, Claire showed up behind Sheridan, making him turn around and gasp in horror as she smiled, giving me time to pull the trigger and shoot him in the back. He fell to the floor, more permanently this time, and Claire gave me a nod before disappearing.

“Hell of a shot.” Rhodes breathed, glancing to me.

“Thanks.” I smiled. We gave Diana time to mourn her partner, then she came back to us.

“You doin' all right?” Sam asked, concerned.

“No, not really. The death omen Claire, what happens to her now?”

“Should be over. She should be at rest.”

“So, what now, officers?” Dean asked.

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed.” Rhodes explained.

“You’d take care of that?” I smiled.

“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless... I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

“You sure?” Sam blinked.

“Yeah, they’re sure, Sam.” Dean urged.

“No, I mean, you could lose your jobs over that.”

“Look, we just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” Diana sighed. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for the three of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”

“Do you know where my car is by any chance?” Dean asked.

“It’s in an impound lot on Robertson’s.” She gave Dean a look. “No. You’re not stealing it.”

“Of course not.” I smiled, patting the boys on the shoulder. “We’ve got my Mustang, and we’ll improvise. We’re good at that.”

“Clearly.” Rhodes grinned, and Dean and Sam shared a look.

“We’ll meet you at the car.” Dean smirked, dragging Sam with him. Diana had slipped off, leaving me and Rhodes.

“This’ll be one heck of a story to tell.”

“I bet.” I laughed, storing my gun in my arm holster. “Just leave out the part of the death omen and people won’t call you insane.”

“That sounds best.” He chuckled. “You’re a really hard case, Rainer, you know that, right?”

“I’ve heard. Well, I’ve better get going.” I smiled, then pulled my car keys out of my pocket. I stared at them, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I have my keys. If I have them, how are the boys in the-“ My focus was thrown off course by a pair of lips on mine, an arm wrapping around my waist. I dropped my keys because of the impact, forgetting about them and cupping the nape of his neck, the other arm hanging loosely around it. I could feel his smile, tilting his head-

“HAUN HAUN! YOU GOT THE GIRL, OUI OUI?!” I pulled away, turning to where Dean was.

“DEAN WINCHESTER, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” I yelled, then stepped back from Rhodes. “Sorry about them.”

“Nah, you’re good.” He picked up my keys and gave them to me, kissing me again quickly and then my hand. “It’s gonna take a lot to forget you, Rainer.”

“Don’t worry about that, Serge, nobody can forget me.” I handed him a note with my burner cell number. “Call me sometime. If I don’t pick up, I’m hunting another demon. And, uh, call me Ivy.”

“Then call me James.” He took the note, pocketing it. “I’ll lead the cops off your trail. Just go, and don’t die, cause those two will need your help. You’re a smooth talker.”

“I guess that solves the mystery of why I joined them in the first place.” I smiled. “See you around, James.”

“You too, Ivy.” I walked back to the Mustang, unlocking it and getting in.

“You boys are idiots.”

“I like him the best.” Dean smirked. “Cool dude.”

“Yeah, we love a rogue officer.” Sam teased.

“Shut up, you two.” I groaned, flooring it and waving goodbye out of the window to James, who was watching me leave.

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#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x oc #spn masterlist #supernatural #supernatural oc #dean winchester x you

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nerice · 6 months

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Fall Season 2023 Watch List >:3 !

detailed thoughts >>

protocol rain. happy first esports anime. unsure if this will last the season but for now there's a core of smth in there that keeps me watching. also the op/ed are gorgeous rly where they put their priorities lol bc the main show does look like ass

100 girlfriends/hyakkano. the harem parody i didn't know i needed. the setup is so genuinely stupid but it fires thru jokes at such a rapid pace you barely have time to remember the ones that don't land as well. THE ANIMATION IS SO BEAUTIFUL. also inch rested to see if they can get to 100 girlfriends polycule without becoming boring (komi san i am looking at u......)

apothecary diaries. everything i hoped it would be <33 some say the mysteries are too easy but since im not big on detective stuff im actually happy with the pacing (compared to raven of the inner palace which could drag a lil imo) it just looks soooo good maomao is so fun her cat emotes... <3 ((also ngl. there's elifauve angle to the main duo which i am. delighted abt ww))

ragna crimson. do the character designs look like a b-tier anime from the early 2000s? yeah. does it slap all the fucking way? YEAH. ragna and leo are extremely whatever but crimson (damiacore!!) and angel dragon are SO DOPE. aots no doubt <3 (<- biased i cannot be trusted) it just scratches an itch that hasn't been scratched since the isekai game inspy fantasy scourge took over. bar is on the ground etc

shangri-la frontier. heel turn but. scratches the video game fantasy world itch and it's just stupid enough to be annoying. no isekai bullshit. fight animation that's exactly what made sao fun but without the harem bs that made sao.... sao. (i know there's more girls coming i just hope we stick to fun beat em up with it.)

sousou no frieren. ANIME OF THE DECADE. absolutely no question about it this is the best thing i've ever seen every second of animation is jaw-droppingly beautiful all the characters and the fkcin story the cycles the grief the humanity behind it all. i cry every single ep ;-; i am too enamored by it to even be annoyed abt the german names of everything and everyone. it's awkward but as someone who also gave all their first ocs telling japanese names I'LL LET IT SLIDE <3

spy x family s2. excited to get to boat arc. exactly what you know ur gonna get from it and i love getting more sxf. it's fun!!!!

undead unluck. it has the kill la kill energy (idiocy) we have no choice but to stan. took me actually till ep 2 to clock it was made by shaft guys and now i cannot unsee it anymore. all the chars and gimmicks are stupid and fun and it perfectly fills the niche left empty by zom100 being in production hell. ive watched anime for long enough that i can ignore the sexual comedy bits but it is becoming stale (in which it falls short of what klk was able to pull off. god i miss klk) lol

dropped tier

-shy (technically havent dropped this yet but unless ep3 gets interesting real fast... it's not doing anything well enough to care)

-kamonohashi ron/forbidden deductions (i hate detective shows sorry. was gonna stick it out for his cute disheveled design but i simply do not care enough for the gimmick or the genre)

-kamierabi (what happens when you let yoko taro of nier fame and jin of kagepro fame make a series together? nothing worth watching unfortunately. made me wanna rewatch mirai nikki tho lmao)

summer season leftovers

-jjks2 (U KNOW WHAT IS ABOUT TO BE DONE TO ME)

-zom100 (pour one out for production issues)

#elia txts #aniblogging #<me trying rly hard to be more comprehensive abt season watches again #also absolutely insane we will have a bunch of these run over into a super stacked winter season too #watching frieren and dunmeshi in parallel will do smth to me

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100yearoldcomics · 2 years

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June 4, 1922 Peter Rabbit by Harrison Cady

[ID: Peter Rabbit peruses a shelf full of second-hand books. A sign at the near end of the shelf reads, "Bargains in Text Books." An old owl oversees the sale from a knot in a nearby tree. /end] Peter: Well, now, this is an interesting li'l book. "How to Become a Detective." I think I'll have to buy it and study up on the subject.

[ID: Peter eagerly reads the book at home in his armchair. Two of his kids slink off dejectedly into another room. /end] Peter: Gee! This is a wonder. A few more pages and I'll be an expert. Kid: Popsy has no time for us babies.

[ID: Peter bounds outside with his walking stick. /end] Peter: I'll just go out and snook around and maybe I'll get a chance to do some sleuthing.

[ID: Peter talks to a beetle standing atop a mushroom and pointing a small bug-sized umbrella up in the air. /end] Peter: Morning, Bug. I'm the greatest detective in the world and I'm out looking for crime. Bug: Is that so? Well, you wanter watch out for two mysterious strangers who won't answer questions.

[ID: Peter bounds off as the Bug instructs him paternally. /end] Bug: Keep your eyes peeled. These woods are full of rascals.

[ID: Peter comes across an old tortoise and a snail walking together. /end] Peter: Whoop! Here's a pair of suspicious looking characters now and they don't answer my greetings.

[ID: Peter crawls behind a stone wall and follows the pair. /end] Peter: I'll follow them and see what they're up to.

[ID: He stands behind a bush beside a thick tree and watches the tortoise swat at the branches of a tree with his own walking stick. /end] Peter: Ah-ha! The scamps are out for some deviltry. But Sherlock Bun has his eye on them.

[ID: Peter runs up to the pair, surprising them. /end] Peter: Oh-ho! Robbing bird's nests, hey? Well, I'll just make a dash and nip 'em in the bud.

[ID: Peter runs up as the tortoise eagerly points his stick at a beehive. /end] Peter: Vill'ins, I've got you at last! Tortoise: Quick, pull in your head, I'm a gointer swat her! Snail: Let 'er go, Bill.

[ID: The snail and tortoise pull their heads into their shells as the bees come storming angry out of their hive. Peter is less fortunate in this regard and gets the angry bees directly in the face. /end] Peter: !

[ID: Peter sits at home in his armchair, the back overstuffed with pillows, his feet in a basin of hot water and an array of lotions and medicines on a stool beside the chair. Peter weeps into the basin as he rubs his bee-stung head with a handkerchief. His head throbs with pain. The two kids from earlier in the comic stand beside him, amused. /end] Kid: Tell us a funny detective story, Popsy.

#newspaper comics #vintage #history #1922 #peter rabbit #transcript available #1920s #harrison cady

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yogamathappiness · 7 months

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Hamlet by Ronnie Barker

In olden Scandinavia when standards of behaviour Were rather lax and Income Tax was tuppence in the ducat Denmark's democratic king one day became a static king. He went to rest, became non est, in fact he kicked the bucket.

He had, it seems, been victimised. The reason for his quick demise Developed from a charming trick of brother Claud, the thug. Who, while the king was sleeping sound, came silently a-creeping round And dropped a deadly poison in the royal Danish lug.

Then to the Queen, a flirty gal, he whispered: 'Listen, Gertie gal, Now I'm the king and everything we might as well be one. So, when we've had the funeral, or even rather sooner'll Just suit me fine, oh Gert be mine.' Gert said: 'It might be fun.'

The former king had had a lad, called Hamlet, and a sadder lad You never saw, a royal bore, an autocratic dope. In introspective reverie, he'd spend his day forever. 'e Could ask for nothing better than to sit around and mope.

One night upon the battlement, or so the tittle-tattle went, A ghost was seen in shades of green a-frightening the warders. The sergeant, one Sebastian, said: 'Blimey, 'ere's a nasty 'un. Go fetch the prince, this 'ere's against the current Standing Orders.'

When Hamlet came the fear he'd had all vanished as his eerie dad Told how he'd died. young Hamlet cried, and not without a wince, 'He poisoned up your ear'ole Dad? Then I'll avenge you, dear old Dad.' 'Thank you kindly,' cried the phantom. 'Not at all,' replied the prince.

'I'll sham,' he said, 'delirium, and worry 'em and weary 'em, Produce a play, and in this way suspicion I'll dispel. He went too far, as soon as he decided on this lunacy The things he did quite soon got rid of half the personnel.

While in a boudoir chatting there, he said he heard a rat in there. Ignoring the demean-our of the queen and looking on, He shouted, 'For a duck it's dead.' right through the arras bucketed And stuck a yard of rapier through his mother's best cretonne.

His statement was eroneous; he'd done for poor Polonius, Who, embarrassed, from the arras tottered out and sadly said: 'As to make a rat o' me, then puncture my anatomy, Call this a lark?' With which remark, he hit the carpet, dead.

Polonius a daughter had, who reckoned that she oughter had Ha' wed the prince some ages since, but all he did was mock 'er, By saying, 'Dear Ophelia, I really feel you merely are A silly slut.' - a cruel cut, which sent her off her rocker.

She chanted snatches sundry, sighed, went out into the countryside, And climbed some trees, still chanting glees, a little off the key. Alas an envious slither there dropped her into the river there And, quite serene, she last was seen, a-heading out to sea.

Her brother, name of Laertes, imagined he could slay at ease Young Hamlet with a poisoned sword which Uncle Claud had lent him. But Hamlet soon discerned the trick, plugged Laertes and turned the trick Then made a spring right at the King and rather badly bent him.

Meanwhile a jug of lemonade the King had with some venom made Caught Gertie's eye, and feeling dry, she drained the poisoned jug. While Hamlet, still rhetorical, got rather allegorical, Some phrases coined, then quietly joined his mother on the rug.

And while the bodies dropped around, Horatio, who'd popped around, To see the end, and superintend, came through the palace doorway. With Fortinbras and legions of hairy great Norwegians, Who trampled in with pomp and din and seized the throne for Norway.

The moral of this story, boys, is don't be Death or Glory Boys, Don't try to rule, or maybe you'll find you are apt to bungle. Don't bother with detection, lads. Just stick to introspection, lads, Be kind, be good, and if you would, try not to stab your ungle.

The End

#We could all use a laugh #Best TLDR of Hamlet #hamlet #shakespeare #Silliness

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stmaryslibraryios · 9 months

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Murder at the Arizona Biltmore

Murder at the Arizona Biltmore by Edward Marston

This is a completely new subject for EM who, in the past, has been famous for his Railway Detective series, of all of which I have read and thoroughly enjoyed.

This tale is set in the desert in Arizona USA and our hero this time is Merlin Richards, and we start off with him working as an Architect, under his Dad in the Welsh village of Merthyr Tydfil and he is fed up of just designing boring buildings and needs to use his skills for more progressive work, so much to his families disgust, he up sticks and sets off for America to meet his Architectural hero and hopefully work under him.

He meets problems on the way though and ends up, penniless in Arizona where a grand new hotel, called the Arizona Biltmore is under construction. He is given a lift by an attractive young lady and taken to the site. She shows him around but he only meets with persecution and is warned off the site but his new young friend takes care of him and lets him share her tent.

Not a good start for Merlin and to make matters worse, his new friend, Rosa, is murdered that night and Merlin becomes the chief suspect. He now starts on a long, complicated and dangerous mission to find out who the killer is.

Another great story by Edward Marston of a completely new subject for him. I am now reading the second book in the series, hoping I will enjoy at as much as the first.

Review by Brian

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actualbird · 2 years

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guys im like, not an expert in calculating for the area of perimeter or whatever, but based on these images of stitched together backgrounds of marius' bedroom and one angle of luke's apartment respectively

it seems marius' bedroom might be larger in square feet than luke's entire fucking living space

of course this isnt to say luke doesnt have space bc thats untrue. he owns a wholeass 3 story building. but im focusing on just his apartment, aka the 3rd floor (2nd floor is the detective agency office, 1st floor is time's antiquities) and like his apartment...

unseen in luke's image is the other side of his apartment which like, isnt much, it's just peanut's perching area and a treadmill, both of which take little space irt to placement. like, luke's tiny kitchen and dining area is right next to his bed, his bed on a bedframe thats just a slab of wood. like....luke, for god's sake, it does look nice, but YOU CANT STORE ANYTHING UNDER UR BED WITH THIS KIND OF BEDFRAME!!! and it seems u need that storage space bc theres not a lot of space for ur stuff, what with a bunch of stuffs just being on the floor. the tiny wooden bedframe i have for my LUKE PLUSH is better than what luke has in canon.

meanwhile marius has got enough floor space to do a running start for a cool slide in ur socks.

which of course of course makes sense. luke is the most down to earth chill one of the nxx boys and marius is a part of one of the richest families on the planet

but this does make me laugh when i think about marius/luke shenanigans

[marius going over to luke's place to hang out (make out) and theyre stumbling thru the area]

marius, hissing in pain against luke's lips bc he keeps bumping into stuff: ow. ow. OW. ALL YOUR FURNITURE IS SO CLOSE TOGETHER.

luke: evasive manoeuvres, dude. learn em sometime.

marius: im awesomely evasive just not while kissing---AGH. WHY DO YOU LEAVE SO MUCH SHIT ON THE FLOOR.

luke: JUST WATCH WHERE YOURE STEPPING

marius: USUALLY I DONT HAVE TO BE THIS AWARE OF MY SURROUNDINGS WHEN IM MAKING OUT WITH SOMEBODY. whatever let's just. bed. BED.

luke: //leads marius backwards to his bed

marius, the back of his legs hitting luke's STUPID slab of wood bedframe that sticks out and is sure to injure the unaware: OW!!!

alternatively

[luke going over to marius' place to hang out (make out) aaaand]

luke, pressed to the door and pulling back from the kiss to see how fucking far they from the bed: what the fuck?

marius: what?

luke: theres too much floor. to get from here to there, theres a frigging ETA.

marius: oh, cry me a river, man. //just picks luke up to bring him to the bed. better?

luke: I MEAN.....IM NOT COMPLAINING I GUESS....

#tears of themis #luke pearce #marius von hagen #tot luke #tot marius #marluke #mariluke

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toastedkiwi · 3 years

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Little Omega

Summary: there’s yet another kid that Bruce Wayne has taken in and Jason finds a scared little omega.

Pairing: Alpha!Jason Todd x Omega!Reader

Jason had come up from the Batcave to be fed. Alfred always feeds him. However, a distressed scent has him following it instead of the food. It’s quite clear that it’s an omega. It’s uneasy for him as an alpha.

“Hey, you alright?” Jason said knocking on the door he’s sure an omega lies behind.

There’s only whimpering. Jason doesn’t like that sound. He opened the door slowly and went in. The lights are on. He looked around at the room. It’s clear that Alfred has set it up for someone and someone is in the room— just not visible at his height.

A small little sound has him turning to the closet. He headed over and dropped down to his elbows. He now spotted your little legs and you’re shaking.

“Little Omega, you scared?” He asked softly and pushed away the big coats that you hide behind/in.

You have these big doe eyes with tears welling up. You look terrified and so young. Jason stays low to the ground for your sake. He’s a big man and an alpha.

“Your nest is quite bare, Little One,” Jason said.

It’s a known fact that omegas nest even from a young age. It brings them comfort and safe place to stay in such a big world.

“N-Nest?” You stuttered.

“Your safe spot. Isn’t it here?” he said softly.

You don’t know how to respond.

“Would you like some pillows? Maybe some blankets as well,” Jason suggested. “I don’t want you getting cold, Little One.”

You hesitated before agreeing with him. Jason smiled.

“You wanna help me find the perfect ones?” Jason asked.

You nodded your head and he propped himself up on his knees. He reached out his hand and you take it. He helped you stand up and you’re still so small. You go into his arms and he happily picked you up. He stood to his full height with you on his hip and you held onto his shirt.

“Alright, I know where we should start,” Jason said looking at you.

He took you to Bruce’s room. He’s assuming Bruce brought you in. You probably trusted him first. His scent might be a bit more calming to you.

“You want this?” Jason asked.

He held up a once folded black turtleneck sweater. You grabbed it and brought the material close to your body. It made him smile at the sight.

Jason opened up the bench at the foot of the bed which holds extra sheets and blankets. He started digging through trying to find the softest blanket. It’s mainly just linens until he pulled out a cape and it’s a lot heavier than he expected.

“You want it?” Jason asked.

You nodded your head. Jason put it over his shoulder and went over to the head of the bed. He grabbed two pillows that were approved by you. He then left the room. He dropped the cape and pillows off in your room before going into his own.

“What about this blanket?” Jason asked pulling back his comforter to reveal a fuzzy red blanket that had been hidden.

You reached out and he leaned forward. You put your small hand on it and petted the blanket. You then looked at Jason.

“Soft enough?” He questioned.

You nodded your head. Jason grabbed the blanket and yanked it out. It goes over his shoulder. He pulled back his pillows to reveal a red dragon stuffed animal. Jason grabbed it and asked if you wanted it. You take it.

“You gotta keep him safe for me, alright?” Jason said.

You only hold it tighter as well as Bruce’s sweater. It made him chuckle. He grabbed one of his pillows and left his room. He went past Tim’s room. He’d go in but that teenager’s room is a mess and he doesn’t want you exposed to it. Jason took you into Dick’s room. He barged in and Dick was trying to sleep.

“What the hell?” Dick said sitting up.

“You want a blanket? Or a pillow? Or clothes?” Jason asked.

“You aren’t taking anything,” Dick said.

“Hmmm, but how am I supposed to help the little omega build a nest without materials?” Jason asked. “And aren’t you supposed to be detecting things in Blüdhaven?”

Dick sighed and got out of bed. He opened up his closet and pulled out a T-shirt. You shook your head no at it.

“Next, Richard,” Jason said.

Dick kept pulling out more clothing items and showing them to you only for you to shake your head at them. You ended up pointing at the shirt he’s wearing.

“You don’t want to make her sad,” Jason said.

Dick sighed. He took off the shirt and gave it to you. He also pulled out his old teddy bear and gave it to you. You happily took both items.

“Anything else, Y/n?” Dick asked.

You shook your head no and Jason left his room.

“I think we’ve got enough to get you started, Little Omega,” Jason said returning to your room.

“Okay,” you said.

“Are we still building it in the closet?” He asked.

You nodded. He put you down on your feet and closed the door.

“Tell me where you want things and I’ll place ‘em for you,” Jason said getting down on his knees.

It’s an hour later when Bruce came into your room to tuck you in and read you a story. You aren’t in bed or on the floor by the dollhouse he got you. He saw a leg sticking out of the closet. He went over to see that you’re on top of Jason’s chest wearing one of his sweaters. His cape is being used as a blanket. The two of you are asleep and you both look so peaceful. Bruce hasn’t seen Jason look like this in a long time and it brought a smile to his face.

Bruce pulled a blanket off your bed and covered you both with it especially Jason. He turned off the lights and turned on the nightlight. He left the room but not without another look at the two of you. The door then shut close.

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marshmallowgoop · 3 years

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Another DetCo DVD saga post, I know, but, okay, I’ve almost finished collecting all of the original Case Closed volumes that FUNimation released! But since I don’t have endless space, I’m doing what I did with the Japanese volumes and sticking 4-6 discs into a single DVD case that’s got cover art that kind of reflects what’s inside and also has some number on the spine that kind of fits with the numbers next to it. So, 1.1 is next to 2.1 which is next to 3.1, just like 5-6 is next to 6-7 which is next to 7-8. There’s a lot missing in the middle there, but hey, the numbers still sorta work, right?

But anyway, putting everything together made me realize that the Case Closed volumes are so... dark? Like, here’s a stack of Case Closed volumes against a stack of Japanese Detective Conan volumes:

And the Japanese ones are so bright! They’re pink and purple and beautiful-day-blue, with cute little illustrations and colorful Conan logos.

All while the North American ones look basically like my wardrobe. Deep greens, subdued oranges. Even when there are more vibrant colors, they’re absolutely splattered with black.

The differences really stuck out to me when I got this ultra-cute box that was originally paired with a special edition of the tenth Conan movie, The Private Eyes’ Requiem, and meant to hold the first ten films. Only the first six of those ten were released in English (so far!), so I got the Japanese versions of the rest, and, well...

Same story! Case Closed is always set against darkness and night, whereas Detective Conan is as colorful as a scarlet macaw.

(Also, as an aside, this box is adorable. Easily my favorite collector’s box in my collection. I did get it used, so it’s a bit worn, but the charm is still very much all there.)

(Lookit ‘em all holding up “10.” Precious!)

Anyway, anyway, tl;dr, tl;dr, Case Closed packaging is like

💀🔪MURDER⚰️😱

while Detective Conan packaging is like

🌞🌈MURDER🦋😊

And I love it.

#shitpost #shut up goop #american kirby is hardcore #and i love both approaches don't get me wrong lol #the case closed trailers included on the dvds are also the same way #they're like 'murder revenge death fear' while the japanese one is like #ran getting her copy of 'shonen sunday' stolen and conan finding it pffttt #i love it #i will say the viridian collection seems a bit brighter though!#detective conan #case closed #long post #detco dvd saga

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edaen · 2 years

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Who Am I? - CH.1: “Caught”

Pairing: Rafael Barba/Reader

Warnings: Sassy Barba lmfao

Words: 2601

Summary: An anthology series following the story of ADA Rafael Barba and an FBI agent with a barren soul as they wade through the waters of life together. With a touch of drama, comedy, and the occasional fluff, there’s never a dull moment … and it all starts with a single wayward glance. (Canon-typical warnings do apply.)

A/N: I have a habit of never finishing the fics that I start, so I decided to try my hand at something easier: small slice-of-life stories that run in tandem with the canonical SVU universe (starting with Barba’s very first appearance). I did take some liberties with the Reader’s appearance, but it’s fiction. Besides who doesn’t want to be big sexy?

[Click to read on AO3]

(spare a kudo for your humble fic writer? 🤔)

It was Rafael Barba’s first time visiting the SVU bullpen. As the new Assistant District Attorney for Manhattan, he was eager to make a good impression. He knew well that he was a proud, brash man—it’s what made him so good at his job—and while he didn’t much care about how other people saw him, he still maintained that it was important to make nice with the people you work with (or at least attempt to).

Barba had already been introduced to the relevant members of the unit’s top detectives—Munch, Benson, Finn, Rollins, and Amaro. They seemed like a decent bunch. Dedicated, true believers in upholding the law and seeking justice. Which, as he saw it, could be both a good thing and a bad thing. Their passion made them good detectives; efficient at catching the bad guys. But, much to his chagrin, it also meant that they would more than likely disapprove of his own methods of upholding the law: cherry-picking jurors, finding loopholes, interpreting (or bending) the rules in favor of his case, or unearthing ancient law. Anything that might benefit his case. He also liked to be frank with people, sticking to facts and hard truths. One of those truths being that the facts aren’t always what you want to hear. It didn’t win him any brownie points with his coworkers, but it did win cases.

Winning was important.

The SVU office was buzzing this late afternoon. Detectives and police officers alike moved like worker bees throughout the station. The case against talk show host Adam Cain was picking up, and tension was about to bring things to a boil. Both Cain and his accuser, Jocelyn Paley, were rather large stars in the media world, so everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the news found out—making their jobs infinitely more difficult.

“Ah! Good morning, Mr. Barba.” Munch stood up from his desk as Barba made his way further in, reaching out to shake the ADA’s hand. “What brings you to our humble abode at this early hour?”

Barba accepted the handshake, making sure his grip was firm and confident.

“Sergeant,” he said with his usual warm smile, “it’s a pleasure to see you again. You as well, Detective Tutuola.”

Finn broke his concentration away from the file in front of him, leaning back in his chair. He offered Barba a quick nod. “You can just call me Finn, counselor,” He said.

Being on a first name basis with someone he had just met made Barba feel a twinge of discomfort, but he played along. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” He turned back to the senior detective. “I’m here to take a look around the place and touch base on the Adam Cain case. I always like to see where the bacon is made when I work with a new unit.”

“Well, make yourself at home. As you can tell by looking around the room, we’re full of potential bacon.” Munch laughed, amused by himself.

Barba held tight to his briefcase and returned his free hand to his pants pocket. He let out a small chuckle. “Really? The old ‘all cops are pigs’ joke? What’s next, hm? Donut quips?”

“Oh it’s no joke. Down that hall and to the right.” Finn said from his desk, pointing behind him with a toothy grin. “They’ll be sitting on the crafts table in the break room. Can’t miss ‘em!”

“Just plain glazed flavor, I’m afraid. I’ll tell you what, I’ve about had it with these damn budget cuts!” Munch said.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Not this again.” He turned towards the ADA “Better make your visit quick before our esteemed sergeant here goes off on another tangent about jelly being the superior donut.”

“Ha Ha. Mock me all you want. You’re just mad that I’m right.”

Before Barba could reply, a voice called out from behind him.

“Barba!” Captain Harris shouted, lightly slapping a large hand against the ADA’s shoulder. “Good, you’re here. Saves us the trouble of having to go to you. Detectives Benson and Rollins were just about to give me an update on Adam Cain.”

Barba turned to greet Harris and the two female detectives that trailed closely behind him. “Fortune favors me today, it seems. Let's hope lady luck stays on our side throughout the trial. Have anything good for me?”

“C’mon,” Harris said, “we can talk in my office.”

Barba let the well-dressed group take the lead as he followed quickly behind. As they walked, he couldn’t help but take a quick scan around the office. The place was no different from any other precinct he had been to.

Save for one thing.

Among the sea of suits and uniformed officers, just a little further past Detective Tutuola and Munch’s desks, stood a woman whose attire caught his attention. She was like a sore thumb, donning tight-fitted, solid black athletic wear from head to toe that clung to her fit curvature: a pair of bulky running shoes, long, high-waisted leggings with a single stripe of a dark, semi-transparent mesh material running down the sides of her powerful hips, and nothing else but a simple cropped workout tank that left the majority of her torso exposed to the brisk office air. From afar, she looked as if she had just stepped out of a Hollywood action movie.

Her eyes were fixated on a detailed diagram on the whiteboard before her. A photo of Adam Cain’s face was taped in the dead center, surrounded by a plethora of unintelligible notes in bright red ink. She was no cop, that much was obvious. Detectives here upheld a strict dress code. No way a man like Captain Harris would allow that to pass.

Is she another victim? If she was, it would be a boon to his case. Having another complainant to put on the stand would add more validity to Jocelyn Paley’s accusations.

She would definitely have to change first, he thought.

Barba ogled her unconsciously. He stared not out of a lustful disrespect, but out of curiosity. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel as if time itself had slowed to a bitter crawl when she lifted her toned arms behind her head to pull her loose hair up into a ponytail—biceps flexing with every movement. He caught a glimpse of a small tattoo on the back of her outstretched neck, just below her hairline, but was unable to make out what it was. He squinted, but she must have felt his gaze against her back as she then instinctively turned to look at the group walking in single-file.

They locked eyes. A bubbling feeling gathering in the pit of the counselor’s stomach. As she twisted a band around her hair, tugging the locks to tighten the elastic grip and move it to a higher placement on her head, the woman offered Barba a small, polite smile. Making it painfully clear that she knew he had been staring. She then sized up the awe-struck ADA from head to toe, just as he had done to her.

Caught in the act and with nowhere to run, he returned her look with a smug, confident grin of his own, acknowledging that he had been spotted and conceded defeat. There was no point in trying to pretend like he hadn't. He was man enough to own his actions, all he could hope was that the alluring stranger had not found offense with his boldness.

The woman cocked an eyebrow, her lips still upturned pleasantly. If she had been offended, she didn't show it.

Barba considered this to be a good sign.

With a flick of her hair, she returned her attention to the board with crossed arms. He watched her hips as the woman shifted her weight on her legs and arched her back ever so slightly to stretch. It was an infectious poise—as if she were saying, “go ahead, take a look. I dare you.”

She was toying with him, and he had fallen for it.

Barba shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts as the world around him resumed to it's normal speed. Despite what people might think of him, Barba had never considered himself to be all that good-looking (aside from his dapper attire and well-kept hair). But having a beautiful woman reciprocate an accidental and silent flirtatious engagement with a smile fed his ego more than he’d care to admit. This feeling of validation was something that he would try to hold on to for the rest of the day. He would carry that confidence to the courtroom.

The counselor said a silent prayer to himself as he followed the SVU detectives into the interim Captain's office, now begging to whatever deity would listen that she was not involved in his case somehow. If she were, it would make for a rather awkward introduction.

As he walked through the doorway, Barba immediately turned to the brown, worn window blinds looking out towards the bullpen. Harris had been speaking to him, giving some sort of rundown of what they had uncovered so far on the case, but the lawyer had not registered a single thing. His eyes were currently glued to the woman's back through the open blinds. She had stolen all his focus.

"Mr. Barba?" Detective Rollins asked, attempting to get his attention.

"That woman over there—" Barba pointed to her through the glass, casting aside whatever conversation they were attempting to have with him, "—in front of the evidence board. Who is she? Another victim?"

Benson replied with a soft playfulness. "Hardly. Actually, it's about time the two of you were introduced."

The senior detective walked to the door and called out an unfamiliar name, asking if they would join them in the office. The woman, shocked to hear her name so suddenly, grabbed a jacket off the back of a nearby chair, turned quickly on her heel, and lightly marched towards her summoner.

"Libby!" The mystery woman said, the timber of her voice mirroring the strength of her outer physique. "There you are. It's been some time!"

The woman wasted no time enveloping her apparent friend in a warm embrace. Detective Benson offered no verbal resistance, but squirmed uncomfortably from such a casual greeting in a professional setting. Harris remained as stone while Barba gave Rollins a curious glance.

Benson quickly patted the woman's back and broke free from her grasp. "Y-yes, it has. So long, in fact, that you almost missed meeting our new ADA Of The Week." Benson put her hand on the woman's shoulder, turning her to face Barba. "I'd like to introduce you to—"

"Rafael Barba," the counselor beat her to it. "And should this case go my way, I hope to be around for longer than a mere week." He closed the distance, offering the woman a handshake.

The stranger gave the new counselor a wolfish grin, happy to finally meet the man she had caught appreciating her only moments ago. She took his hand with her left, her skin soft yet calloused.

It was a brief and awkward shake. That had to be her non-dominant hand. Barba looked to her right hand. She kept it tight to her side, holding her jacket. A thin layer of white gauze wrapped around the knuckles sloppily. Faint splotches of dark reddish-brown bled to the surface from underneath.

She had been in a physical confrontation recently, and while the wounds had long since finished bleeding, she had yet to change the bandages. Either that, or she was just lazy.

"We'll see about that," the woman said, "your kind seem to have the lifespan of an avocado around here."

Benson, irritated, picked up where she was interrupted. "This is Special Agent—" She recited your name in full, "—our resident behavior analyst and FBI liaison. She's graciously accepted our request to assist in our case against Adam Cain."

"I'm no George Huang, but almost nobody is. Still, I'm happy to help in whatever way I can." You nodded to Harris and Rollins, acknowledging them as well.

Barba was taken slightly aback. "FBI, huh? I would have never guessed. Did the feds change their uniform policy recently?"

You and Benson rolled your eyes at him. Your cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, realizing you had yet to cover your state of undress. You slipped into the oversized windbreaker that was draped over your arm. It was standard issue: deep navy blue with the letters "FBI" printed in bold yellow font on the front left breast pocket, back, and the upper shoulder of each sleeve. You found it boring and uninspiring, yet it brought you a strange sense of comfort. Much like a security blanket.

"Apologies," Your hands found their way into the large pockets. "While I prefer to spend most of my time here assisting New York's finest, Mom and Pop back at FBI headquarters still require me to work the occasional federal case. I just wrapped up an undercover assignment when Detective Benson called me. I was already in the area, so I ran straight over. Didn’t think about what I was wearing until I was already in the elevator."

"Undercover as who? Sarah Connor?"

That earned Barba another eye roll from Benson.

You huffed. "Nothing quite that exciting, I'm afraid. Just a local yoga mom. We were tracking an unsub who fancied following women home after class to attack them as they slept. Tracked the bastard all the way from Florida. We were lucky to catch him before he hit the road again."

"Well, something tells me he wasn’t expecting to run into a ‘local yoga mom’ with your right hook." Barba referred to your injury, his mind activity fighting off the imagery of your downward-facing dog.

You removed your hands from your pockets, looking at the injury you had forgotten. Your fingers ran across the gauze, feeling the texture sting against your torn and bruised skin. It was a parting gift from the cheekbone of a man who had it coming. You were proud of it.

“What can I say? I live to defy expectations.”

Harris gruffed. “Alright, enough flirting, you two.” he said from behind his desk. “You can ask the Special Agent to prom after our debrief, Mr. Barba.”

“A pity.” Barba spoke to Harris, but never took his eyes off you. “And here I had the perfect prom-posal all planned out.”

Benson let out a silent laugh, not from amusement, but from bewilderment. She then walked to stand next to Rollins by the large oak desk, her hand folded across her chest. She hadn’t known Barba for very long, but he was already proving to be a thorn in her side.

“Prom is overrated.” You said. You broke eye contact with the new ADA to look towards Harris and the others. “I’ll leave you all be. If you need me, I will be reviewing Cain’s personnel file with Munch and Finn.”

Barba gave you a nod. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working together.”

“I’m sure you do.”

And with that, you left the office, closing the door behind you.

Barba, his eyes vacant, took a moment to process what had just happened. He turned back to the group.

“You sure have a wide cast of characters in your department.” He said to no one in particular.

“You have no idea.” Rollins replied, opening the case file in her hand.

Harris rapped his knuckles against the desk.

“So,” he said, “about that case ..."

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #just some lighthearted stuff to start #sass master barba is a king #get ready for endless witty banter #law and order svu #imagines #myfics

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