#'god I sure hope he doesn't realize I'm a serial killer :/' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 7 months ago

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Aw yay!! Thank you so much, friend. Starting off with a bang, so to speak. 😂❤️‍🔥

I broke! 🤣 I love innuendos like this!

LMfao SAME! It was very fun to try and capture that here. 😂

I snorted hard at that one 🤣 Oh sweet Lord and baby Jesus, he'd for sure say somethin' like that. Bless his heart 🤣🤣

Bless his heart, for the rest of him has already been blessed. 😏

Whoop! We have a hurdle 👀 Now, I shall wait who says the magic words first... 😈

Don't we always have some kind of hurdle with me. 😅 Ooh, I love a guessing game!

My crime-loving heart burns with passion every time I read classics like this 😍❤️ That's when you know shit's about to get good 😏 (We definitely watch too much Law & Order lol. Loved the SVU warning btw 😆)

Oh my God, WAY too much L&O! But I knew you in particular would appreciate my attempts at getting somewhat SVU with this.

Didn't want to get too graphic on it, so I held back some, but I'm so glad you appreciated those aspects. Especially since you have so much experience writing crime dramas! ("Murder cluser" -- I'm a nerd about those things too!! Trying to bring some authenticity over here. 🤏🏽 😂)

Yup, typical law enforcement (at least when you're passionate and care). I thought he'd be the exactly the same way – just drown in a case and forget your whole world around you in the process

Ugh yep, unfortunately, and we know this is already a pattern of behavior with Beau. Even more so on this case because it's literally striking too close to home.

Whoa, definitely don't mess with Y/N. Girl knows how to "silently treat" someone lmao 🤣

And I discovered this about her while trying to explore more of her character weaknesses. 😂😂 Experience has taught her the fine art of pettiness. 😌 (Lmfao Aubrey is the perfect example!)

Umpf... don't underestimate Beau either. He's playing dirty 😆

And not even realizing it! That bastard. 🤣

Yup, that's the one 😂 You've outdone yourself with the passive-agressiveness of this 👏😆

LOL I just love the phrase "deceptively calm." 🤣🤣

Ugh, the man is sweet but frustrates me sometimes. I can see him this innocently spinning around, too 🙄

HONESTLY. The way he even had to ask why she was mad. Like why are men seriously like this? I was legit having a conversation with my best friend about her boyfriend acting very similarly to this. 🙄🙄

Yup, there we go. I expected something like this. His "it's okay to be an asshat as long as you're saving someone/doing good" reminds me of someone... 👀

The way I chortled. Legit the perfect Dean gif for that moment. 🤣 (And 100% accurate AF.)

Ugh, typical creep behavior 😒 Show me you're a low-life criminal and perv without telling me you are... (btw: why do they always do this in shows and movies? Like, "Ooooh, look at me! If I hadn't been caught, you would've been my next victim" 😂)

Ugh ikr? That's exactly the feeling! Part of me kind of cringes making it so obvious, but at the same time, this could've become a whole new mini series if I wasn't careful and drew this out the way I could have. 😂😂

1983? I love you for this 😂 Please tell me more people got that reference 🙌

OMG Literally just you and one other person got that little reference, but I know I can always count on you!! 😂 🫶🏽

I mean, a little... But we all are sometimes, so we get it 😆🫶 I honestly hope that super creep doesn't come after her, now that he's out on bail. Poor woman has been through enough creepy serial killer trauma 🙈

Ha! I know, her pettiness is kind of understandable. But if she'd just answered his call, maybe what happens next could've been avoided...

(And I know, I'm fucking terrible aren't I? 🥲)

Welp, there we go! I spoke too soon lol. ZEP! You're gonna make this girl need life-long therapy! 😂 And poor Beau, he already blamed himself last time. He's gonna freak for sure now. This is all gonna get worse 🙈

And she was already in therapy! She'll definitely be giving that person more billable hours. 😬 Poor girl. AND poor Beau, for sure. It's going to take them both a while to work through this one. Like you said, as if they didn't have enough PTSD.

But I'm so glad that whole scene was able to keep you on the edge of your seat!! 🤩

“I’ll take you home, okay?” he said.

N'awwwww a callback 🥹🥹🥹

I love me a callback! 🥹💗 (And a title shoutout.)

Zep, omg! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭 Why are you hitting me with all these feels? This is me and hubs ❤️

Oh yeah that's right!!! I told you, I would love to have a love like that. 🥹

Awww, she said it first and overcame her fear 🥹🫶 I already knew he felt the same 😏 He honestly should've manned up and said it already. We know he was feeling it and close to saying it in the series lol

Honestly I'm kinda wishing I had had him say it first for that reason! But I also thought he'd be one to let certain things be implicit through his actions (not like some other Jackles characters we know 🙄), until he finds the courage to be vulnerable in that way. 💗

Zep, I loved this one shot! It was amazing! Such a beautiful addition to this wonderful series 🥹❤️ Can't wait to see what else you come up with in this universe 🫶

Thank you so very much!! 🥹 I always feel blessed by your comments, and this time was no different! I was smiling ear to ear. 💕 There one more little one-shot (for now), and I see you already got to it!! Diving into your comments there next!

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

AN: This is a sequel story to the Take Me Home storyverse, set just a few months after Part 9!

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, a Law & Order: SVU-esque case, angst, perilous situations and violence, hurt/comfort and fluff.

Catch up on TMH: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

You took pleasure in the sounds you were pulling out of this man.

You continued to kiss down his neck. Each of your movements was slow and purposeful.

Your hips rolled against his, brushing your clothed, aching core against his risen length. His hands were like steel bands on your hips, not letting you leave even if you wanted to. He groaned.

“I needa get ready for work,” Beau chuckled. And he pointed out, “So do you.”

You smiled against his skin, and you gently dragged his flesh between your teeth.

“It’s still early,” you argued in his ear. You teased the shell of it with your tongue, making him shudder and rock his clothed hard-on between your legs. The wet tip of his cock dampened your panties further.

His hands moved down your thighs, caressing, squeezing, getting a handful of your ass in the process. Just as his fingers dipped under the satin hem of your panties, his phone buzzed on one of the nightstands. Beau let out a sigh of disappointment and reached over blindly for it.

He saw the caller ID and took in a breath to get himself together first. Even though he didn’t quite succeed, he answered the call.

“Mornin’, Jenny,” he greeted. You grinned.

“Tell her I said hi,” you whispered.

Beau shot you a “stern” look, though his lips curved at a smile. He mouthed at you to behave.

You gave him a look that was cheeky at best.

“We caught a new case. If you want, you can meet us at the scene instead of the precinct,” said Jenny.

“Okay, where to?” Beau asked.

While Jenny gave him the directions, you used his distraction to your advantage. You shimmied out of your underwear and the overly large shirt you’d stolen from him last night. Then you drew down the waistband of his underwear and freed his cock into your hands.

“Okay, sounds g—” Beau was forced to pause on a sharp inhale.

“You okay?” Jenny asked.

“Y-Yeah. Just fine. Had a tickle in my throat,” Beau said.

"Okay, well just so you know," Jenny said, continuing to give him tidbits of information that he really should've been paying attention to.

He cleared his throat, shooting you an incredulous look. You didn’t pay him much mind as you began to touch him with care, from the weeping tip and along the shaft down to the base, even caressing his balls.

Beau’s furrowed gaze held yours as his breath faltered again. Your deft hands lined up his cock to your entrance. You teased yourself on the sensitive head of it, brushing it through your wet folds and against your clit. You had to bite your lip against a moan, but you didn’t quite manage to stifle the sound.

“Okay, Jenny. Thanks, I’ll see you there in a bit,” he said in a rush.

He hung up as soon as he could, but all the while, you were unrelenting. You finally sunk fully down on his cock, taking him all the way inside your wet heat.

Beau let out a strained groan and grabbed your arms. He sat up and pressed his forehead to yours. His lips formed a chiding smile.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said. His voice was a bit rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You want me to be nice?” you teased, beginning to let the full length of him slide out of you. You welcomed him back inside with a rock of your hips. “I just need a moment of your time, Sheriff.”

He nodded breathlessly. “Think I can manage that.”

You smirked and held onto the back of his neck as you rode him. You had a feeling you would find fingerprint bruises on your hips and thighs tomorrow, but this was worth it.

It took a lot to see Beau lose control, even in the bedroom. Now, he had a hand tangled in your hair and his lips fastened to your throat. He helped you move on him with a guiding hand on your hip. You slipped a hand from his shoulder and further parted your folds to find your clit.

But as Beau so often did, he moved your hand away so he could usher in your pleasure himself. He massaged your clit until your inner walls became almost too tight for him to drive up into you. Your thighs shook around his hips, and he managed to hold off on his own release until you came, hard on his cock.

You cried out near his ear and held onto his shoulders. He supported your collapse against his chest, but he still grabbed your hip tighter and rutted into you a few more times, until he was able to spill into you and fill you up to the brim with his warmth. You clenched on him on purpose, milking him for all he was worth.

Fuuuckin’ hell, he thought with a grunt, and he panted against your shoulder. He laid a belated kiss there.

“What a way to greet the sun,” he remarked.

You laughed breathily, caressing his cheek.

Beau was, inevitably, running late for work. He found that he was okay with that as he kissed you goodbye.

You were still in your robe and holding a mug of coffee. You didn’t need to be at work for another couple of hours. Your Tuesday classes didn’t start until 10:00 a.m.

“Have a good day, baby. I…” you trailed.

Certain words were poised on your tongue. Words that neither of you had said to one another just yet. Your heart started tripping up a bit as you realized it.

Even though you’d known the truth of what you felt for him for a while now, you’d been very careful to let him say it first. You told yourself you didn’t want to pressure him, in light of his contentious divorce and how new this all still was between you and Beau…

But more often, you wondered if you were maybe projecting, considering your own rocky past. Maybe it was just self-preservation.

“Yeah?” Beau questioned. You waved him off with a nervous chuckle.

“Nothing. I don’t know,” you said. “My coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.”

He just smiled and gave you one last kiss to the side of your head before he left your apartment.

Beau arrived at the scene of the crime: the parking lot of a movie theater. Jenny and Poppernak were already there inside the perimeter of yellow caution tape while the Forensics team did their thing. Jenny checked her watch when she saw the sheriff.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

“Traffic,” Beau lied, his face warming. “What’ve we got?”

He quickly shifted his attention to the pool of blood staining the ground between his deputies. The path of his gaze led to the victim: a young woman wearing a blouse, skirt, and heels. The skirt was torn up to the hip. Her neck was cut, deep but clean.

There were other signs of struggle; road burns on her right thigh, like she had been dragged. Jenny even found a can of pepper spray rolled under the victim’s car.

“Maybe he was trying to get her to his car. She fought back hard enough that he cut his losses,” she theorized.

Beau blew out a sigh and nodded grimly.

“Okay. Let’s get started.”

Two months gave the Lewis and Clark Sheriff’s Department two more murders. Both were women, presumably alone and late at night, and in the dimly lit, poorly secured parking lot of an establishment.

Stressed didn’t begin to cover how Beau Arlen walked back into the precinct two hours before he truly had to. What little forensics they’d been able to uncover from each scene (and on the victims) let them to conclude that the suspect was male, and likely between 5’10” and over 6 feet tall.

As they now had a murder cluster, Beau and his team determined that the victims were found within a 5-mile radius. Both Emily’s school and the college where you taught were within that range.

It had led Beau to long nights spent at the precinct and in town, researching, canvasing, working with his team to lock down possible leads.

But those two months had also led him to cancel dates with you and plans with his daughter. He hadn’t stayed over your apartment in weeks. You’d spoken to Emily, and she told you he was often late in picking her up from school on his custody days with her. When she was with him, he always seemed distant, distracted.

It was all too familiar, Emily told you, and she hated it.

You were worried and becoming increasingly frustrated. Any calls you made to him to check in were a few minutes at most, before he left you hanging to go back to work.

Beau had told you this was a difficult string of homicide cases, and very little else. You knew that he shouldn’t and couldn’t tell you too many details about the case, but you also couldn’t help but feel that he was pulling away from you…and leaving you in the dark.

You’d just gotten home after a longer day than usual at work. Frankly, you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was shower and find whatever you could in your fridge to have for dinner. You didn’t care what it was at this point.

Before you could go rummaging, however, your phone started to ring. You sighed and went back to the purse you dumped on the kitchen table, and you saw that the call was from Carla. Your brows knitted in confusion. She’d been on a business trip in California for one of her higher-profile trial cases.

Carla was polite on the phone, but sounded a bit stressed.

“Emily just called to tell me that Beau hasn’t come by to pick her up from school. She’s been there for two hours,” Carla said.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? That’s not like him.”

“I know, but he’s not picking up his phone. Is he with you?” she asked.

“No, I just got home. He has to be still at work,” you said. You restrained a sigh as you grabbed your purse back up. “I can pick Emily up.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, in a relieved tone that suggested that was what she’d wanted all along, but she still wanted to be polite about it.

“Yes, I’ll get her. Don’t worry,” you said. “And I’ll talk to Beau about this.”

“Good,” Carla said. “I appreciate that.”

After getting off the phone with Carla, you texted Emily and let her know you were coming to pick her up. She texted back:

Are you sure? I can just take an Uber to your place or something.

You replied:

No, honey. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in 15 - 20 minutes.

You didn’t manage to get ahold of Beau until you’d already picked Emily up from school. You braved through thirty minutes of traffic to get home again, and you stopped to grab dinner on the way.

Beau didn’t get to your apartment until later that night. You and Emily had a nice dinner of Tex-Mex takeout (though she’d said it was definitely better in Houston). He looked tired and apologetic as he went to hug his daughter first.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I just got held up at work.”

Emily nodded and tried to smile at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s fine, I get it,” she said.

Beau knew his daughter well enough to see the truth. He sighed, but he went over to you in the kitchen next. You were putting away the leftovers. He laid a hand on your back and tried to kiss you in greeting, but you only gave him your cheek.

You didn’t meet his eyes when you slid over the plate you’d set aside for him: a massive carne asada burrito with all the sauces, just like he liked it.

Beau felt like an ass.

You left him to heat up his food and went to Emily, who was helping to clear the kitchen table.

“Do you need help with your homework?” you asked her. “I know you said you did some at school while you were waiting.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty much done. I’ve got it.”

You smiled at her. “Okay, good job.”

The next item on your mental list was grabbing the bedsheets out of the dryer, to set up the pull-out bed from the couch later for Emily to sleep.

Beau watched you putter around the apartment while Emily settled in front of the TV with the remainder of her homework. He felt like an outsider with his own girlfriend and daughter…and there was an eerily familiar feeling churning in his gut.

Later that night, you were reading in bed. Beau stepped out of the bathroom after a shower, with the towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and arms all dewy. You had to force yourself not to take notice.

You’d been missing him—practically aching for him for weeks, for two months. You were also upset with him though, and for more than one reason.

After he got dressed for bed in a long-sleeved shirt and some sweatpants, Beau once again noticed that deceptively calm look on your face. He knew that face, just as he sensed the tension in the air.

He sighed and came to sit on the edge of his side of the bed. Or at least, the side he’d claimed ever since he started sleeping over regularly here. Somehow, his own trailer had become a bit stale and lonesome, unless Emily was staying over.

Beau watched your profile and saw the way you were trying your best to ignore him.

“I get the feeling you’re mad,” Beau said, breaking the silence. “Sorry about today. I know Carla called you…I just got caught up with something at work.”

“Carla was right to call me,” you replied, though your eyes didn’t leave the page that you weren’t reading. Beau’s lips pursed.

“Darlin’, would you look at me, please?” he asked.

You dropped your book into your lap, and you met his gaze.

“All right, tell me. Why’re you mad?” he asked.

You raised your brows with a tense frown.

“I’m upset with you. Because this is the first night you’ve spent here in over a month. And it’s not because you wanted to.”

You shoved the blankets off your body and slipped out of the bed. Beau’s shoulders sunk a bit.

“Come on, honey. You know that’s not—” he tried, but you weren’t done.

No, you were very far from done.

“I’m upset with you, because every time I try to extend an olive branch and make plans with you, you reschedule at the last minute,” you snapped. “I’m upset with you because what few and far between conversations we do have? They consist of me trying to figure out what’s happening with you, trying to share with you about what’s going on with me—and you’re either half-listening, or you’re running off before the five-minute mark.”

Again, Beau opened his mouth to argue as his brows furrowed, but you beat him to it.

“And not to mention, you forgot your daughter,” you said. “You’ve been forgetting her, and you’ve been shutting me out.”

Beau stood along with you, his whole body tense with frustration.

“Look, it’s not like I’m out there cheating on you! I’m doing my damn job!” he said.

His words hit you like a physical blow. Your mouth fell open in soft shock. Tears even stung in your eyes.

“Reminding me of Michael,” you nodded in understanding. “Okay. Wouldn’t be the first time this month.”

Beau bristled; he didn’t think it was right for you to compare him to your bastard ex-boyfriend.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he said.

"This isn't fair," you retorted, gesturing between you both with a pointed finger.

Beau's lips pursed. His jaw clenched as he averted his gaze, so he could better hold his tongue before he said something he might regret.

Too late...

Eventually, you stopped waiting for him to answer you.

Beau saw how you withdrew, both from the argument, and from him with a sigh. You crossed your arms and held yourself when you headed into the bathroom.

He internally deflated. Shit.

Something told him that if Emily wasn’t occupying the only other sleeping place in this apartment, he’d have been booted out of your room.

Things were tense the next morning.

Beau agreed to take Emily to school, since you picked her up yesterday. You gave Emily a hug before they left, and you had even packed her a good lunch for school. You knew she had to do that herself whenever she stayed at her dad’s place.

And yes, while the teen was old enough and responsible enough to pack her own lunch, you just wanted to make sure she knew you were still in her corner, no matter what friction might be happening between you and her dad.

You and Beau parted ways that morning with tension still lying between you, just like it had been last night in your bed. After they headed out, you found yourself at a loss, feeling unbalanced.

You didn’t have a class today until noon, so you took the morning to truly think about what was happening here. Whatever Beau’s case was about, you knew it was serious and complex, and he didn’t want to talk about it, likely for your safety.

All you could hope was that Beau, Jenny, Poppernak and the rest of the team were able to solve it quickly. You even began to wonder if it was fair of you to add stress on Beau’s shoulders when he was dealing with something that was clearly taking all of his energy, and making him distant with both you and Emily.

Blowing out a big sigh, you supposed you could try to be gracious one more time. You braved the annoyance of putting real clothes on—a blouse and work casual pants, as you later would have to go in to work.

You first headed over to the precinct with your purse on one shoulder and a plastic bag hanging from your other hand.

You entered the double doors and walked in past the reception desk, then through the bullpen. You noticed right away that there was a commotion going on, as you saw Jenny leading in a man handcuffed behind his back. You almost bumped into him as they crossed you in the hall.

The man was tall and lean, with pieces of his coiffed dark hair falling over his sharp blue eyes. They found you, and his lips curved into a smile after he gave you a once-over.

His smile made a shiver of unease prickle down your spine as you froze.

“Keep moving, Casey,” Jenny ordered.

Beau was right behind her, though the moment he took in the exchange between you and Casey, Beau stalked forward and stepped in between, urging the other man forward with a firm hand on his shoulder and a stern look of warning.

Jenny and Popernak led the suspect into a room for questioning, while Beau’s hand found the small of your back and guided you into his office.

He closed the door behind him and carded a hand through his hair. He let out a subtle breath and turned to face you. He didn’t look all that happy to see you, just tense.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Sorry, we’re a bit busy today.”

Before you could speak, he added, “Matter of fact, it’d be better if you called first next time.”

Your mouth snapped shut. Your brows knitted together in a glare, and you handed him the bag you carried in. It contained a nice hot sandwich and fries from Tonya’s diner, made by Donno himself.

“Here,” was all you said, before you walked out the door of the sheriff’s office.

Beau watched you go in surprise, with the word “wait” halting on his tongue. His gaze traveled down to the open bag between his hands, and sure enough, the smell of a good meal hit him, making his mouth water and his stomach twist with guilt all at once.

Damn it, he sighed. But lunch (and a phone call to you) would have to wait. He set it down on his desk and hastened down the hall to where their suspect, in what had been dubbed the “Fall Murders,” had finally been arrested and held for questioning.

Casey Sanderson; ex-military, dishonorably discharged, an abusive mother in his childhood and an unstable mind following two tours in the Middle East had left him unbalanced, according to his friends from his unit.

His DNA was also discovered under the fingernails of the most recent victim, Christina Mendez. Two weeks ago, her body was found behind a gas station late at night, her neck carved by a knife, and bruises littering her arms and body.

Beau entered the room where Poppernak and Jenny had already gotten started on the suspect.

“Casey here has lawyered up,” Jenny informed him, though her gaze never left the suspect. They were forced to wait on further questioning until the lawyer arrived.

“Ah, the Sheriff of Nottingham,” Casey remarked. His cool blue eyes watch with a measure of nonchalance as Beau stood behind his deputies, arms crossed.

Casey nodded up at him. “Was that your girl out there in the hall?”

Beau’s formerly calm face turned to stone.

Casey’s lips curved slightly.

“Good taste,” was all he said.

His tone was mild, yet it still made Beau’s skin crawl. And his rage built, igniting his blood. He did everything he could to temper that wildfire into a simmer that rolled just underneath his skin.

Jenny and Poppernak knew him well enough to see what he was thinking. Both of them watched him with hidden wariness and concern, especially when Beau stepped forward, placing one hand on the table between him and Casey Sanderson. Darkened green eyes met cool blue.

“Where were you on November 2 between 10:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m.?” Beau asked.

Beau was irate when, a few days later, the ADA prosecutor called him at his office first thing in the morning to inform him of the latest news on Casey Sanderson.

“What the hell do you mean he got out on bail yesterday?” Beau snapped. “We have DNA evidence.”

“He claims that he and Miss Mendez had consensual sex earlier that evening, in the women’s bathroom, of all excuses, but they parted ways after leaving the movie theater,” said the ADA. “As you know, we couldn’t put him directly at the gas station near the theater, where she was found. The defense lawyer convinced the judge that the remaining evidence is too circumstantial to warrant holding him without bail.”

Fuckin’ hell, Beau let out an angry breath, carding his fingers through his hair. He hung up with the ADA moments later. His cell phone lighting up with a notification drew his attention, even perking him up a little, but he deflated when he saw it wasn’t from you.

Just Carla letting him know that she’d take Emily for the weekend this time, just like he’d asked. He felt bad for it, but he needed more time to concentrate on his cases. Sanderson was just one of many now, and Poppernak and Jenny couldn’t handle it all.

Beau tried to rub his tired face back to life, but once again, he thought of you. He still felt guilty, and he still missed you. Missed you like hell.

He hesitantly picked up his phone and he called you, hoping you wouldn’t let it go to voicemail again.

Admittedly, you were being a bit petty. You were screening your boyfriend’s calls.

However, if Beau Arlen wanted to see you, then he could get his ass up off that office chair and come to you this time.

You were tired of giving out olive branches left and right. You didn’t deserve to be the one left waiting and wringing your hands, wondering if this man even cared about you…as much as you’d come to care about him.

So you ignored his call—the second one today, and you prepared for your afternoon classes.

Even after your classes were done for the day, you graded a batch of papers to get them out of the way. As much as you couldn’t wait to go home, you didn’t feel like doing more work when you got there.

Another hour and a half ticked by before you finished grading and inputting the percentages into the online gradebook. Then, with a weary sigh, you grabbed your purse and your workbag and headed down to the garage where your car was parked.

You always tried to park in the same spot for faculty, in a space closest to the elevators. You found your car and put down your workbag in the backseat first. When you closed the door, you saw a figure in the window’s reflection.

You gasped and turned around. A man covered your mouth as a scream tore from your throat and echoed loudly in the garage.

He shoved you hard against the car door, but thanks to a few self-defense lessons from both Jenny and Beau, the heel of your hand came up on reflex.

It hit the man up the bridge of his nose with a crack. He shouted and reared back. When he pulled his hand back, it came away bloody. And you finally recognized him as the man you saw at the precinct: tall, thin, dark brown hair, angry blue eyes now staring back at you.

“Fucking bitch,” he chuckled. “Got some fight in you.”

Fear was a living thing inside you, but you somehow managed to force your body to move.

You scrambled for the driver’s door of your car and tried to open it, but the man shoved it closed, then grabbed at you once again. His forearm pressed across your chest and pinned you there.

The edge of a knife poised at your throat, making you freeze in panic. The blade teased your skin, hot breath against your cheek.

“Freeze, Casey!” came an angry shout. Both you and your attacker recognized that voice. Your breath was stifled in hope. Casey frowned in frustration.

Just over his right shoulder, you saw Beau holding his gun aimed at the man who held you. His brows were drawn together, his entire body poised to react to whatever Casey did next.

“Turn around, hands up high, and drop that knife,” Beau ordered.

Casey’s mouth edged into a humorless smile. “Evening, Sheriff. Up for a date night?”

He slid the blade just slightly against your skin, enough to draw a line of blood, and make you inhale sharply.

“I’m not gonna say it again! Turn around and drop the goddamn knife,” Beau snapped. “Try anything else, and I’ll make a third hole in your spine.”

Letting out a breath through his nose, Casey’s façade of nonchalance fell. He released you, stepping back slowly with his hands held in the air. The knife slipped out of his hand.

Beau stalked towards him before it even clattered to the floor. You were frozen where you stood pressed against your car.

You watched Beau stow away his gun and wrangle Casey’s hands behind his back, slapping on some tight handcuffs, and getting the man onto his stomach on the dusty ground, his cheek pressed hard to the asphalt. Beau held him down with one hand while he fished for his cell in his pocket to call for backup on the arrest.

Beau’s head lifted to catch your eyes. He gave you a reassuring look.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got this,” he said.

His voice was warm for you, steady. When you nodded, it was a jerky motion as you held a hand to your racing heart. You then raised it shakily up to your neck and swiped at the trail of blood there. The wound itself was minor, just a sting, but it was a cold reminder of what could’ve been.

The wait for Jenny and the rest of the team was agonizing.

Beau kept Casey on the ground, facing away from you. Eventually you were able to peel yourself off the side of your car and climb into the driver’s seat, just so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at the man who attacked you.

Jenny and Poppernak arrived within half an hour to haul Casey up and drag him into Jenny's SUV. That allowed Beau to return to your car and tap on the window of the driver’s side. You jolted and looked over to find Beau’s reassuring face.

“They took him. It’s okay,” he said, only a little muffled through the door. You nodded and gestured for him to step back, so you could open the door.

The moment you were on your feet and out of the car, you went into Beau’s waiting embrace. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. You hiccupped and struggled to breathe steady, but Beau held you tight and soothed a hand over your hair, down your back.

“It’s over, honey, I promise. I promise I’ve gotcha,” he said quietly in your ear. You nodded and let his warmth seep into you.

“I’ll take you home, okay?” he said. “We’ll get your car tomorrow.”

You sucked in a trembling breath.

“Please,” you agreed. “Take me home.”

“Am I going to have to testify in court?” you asked.

Beau held you close in your bed later that night. You two had dinner together and had been rewatching old episodes of Friends to take both of your minds off what happened today.

Beau reluctantly nodded in answer to your question.

“The ADA will probably ask you to, but…you can say no,” he said. “I’ll back you, whatever you decide.”

“No, I want to,” you said, even though the thought made you tremble inside. “That animal belongs in a cage.”

Beau silently agreed with you. He admired you for your vehemence, and your courage to even say that you wanted to testify against Casey.

Beau laid a gentle kiss above your brow and continued to rub your back. You both had the blankets up to your hips with a bowl of popcorn balanced between his thigh and yours. He moved it over onto his nightstand so he could curl you more securely against him. You raised your head to consider him thoughtfully.

“Why were you on campus?” you asked, as it finally occurred to you. “How did you know I was still there?”

“I thought I could catch you after your last class, so I went up to your office to see you,” he said. “But you weren’t there. A receptionist was on her way out though. She saw you head out a little while before, so I booked it back down to the garage to see if you were there.”

He was never more glad to heed his gut instinct. That was when he’d heard you scream.

The memory made his insides clench. Beau shook his head against the rest of it. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m so damn sorry for what happened. You gotta know, all this time, this is what I was trying to prevent,” he said, with pain written on his face. “But I’m also sorry that I shut you out. You and Em. I just didn’t know how else to keep you out of this. After what happened this summer…I wasn’t gonna let that happen again.”

With tears stinging in your eyes, you nodded. You knew now that he hadn’t meant to hurt you.

Beau Arlen truly was a good man, and that was hard to come by.

You shifted so that you were propped up on your elbow, resting on his pillow. You stroked his cheek.

“I understand. And I’m sorry too. I know that your job can be difficult, and stressful, and sometimes dangerous,” you said. “But I need you to talk to me. If we’re going to do this for the long haul, we need to communicate. I can’t be left in the dark like that again, Beau. I just can’t…"

It was your turn to sigh. "It feels too close to what I went through with Michael. Being lied to. Being told what I wanted to hear, never actually knowing what was going on, until it was too late.”

You admitted that last part with a hitch of emotion in your voice, meeting Beau’s eyes. His were full of remorse.

“I know. Again, I’m sorry. I promise, I’m gonna work on it,” he said, nodding. He planned to make it up to his daughter too. He would talk to her tomorrow.

You drew his attention back with the hand caressing his cheek.

“I just don’t want anything like that to happen to us. I love you too much,” you said. A tear worked its way down your cheek. “Beau, I love you.”

Beau grasped your hand, holding it to his cheek. His furrowed expression eased, and his lips slowly turned up into a smile. A true one, hinting at all the charm that was unique to this man. You’d missed that smile.

He dried your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Well that’s good,” he said. “Because I don’t think I’ve loved you more than I do right now.”

You laughed through more of your tears, and let him guide you into a tender kiss. One sparked another, and more, each one more searing than the next.

Beau’s fingers disappeared into your hair, just as your legs tangled themselves between his when he rolled you over, and underneath him, where he continued putting actions behind his words.

He gave you a promise that night, one that you’d both try to hold yourselves to in the morning.

AN: Ahh, I'm soft. This feels like the more "official" end to Take Me Home, though I'd be open to come back to these two if new ideas hit me. But until then, let me know what you thought of this one! 😘

Keep Reading:

Here's a drabble set directly after this one-shot. It's called A Crime of Passion:

Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

▶️ Next Story: A Crime of Passion

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Take Me Home Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

For those of you with tag lists, Tumblr is doing a weird thing again with tags. I had to separate them 5 at a time for the hyperlinks to work on each blog! So annoying lol.

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @brianochka

@branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu

@nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91

@ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731

@curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow

#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #lovely review #made my whole day!#a good man is hard to find feedback

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amateurscribes · 6 years ago

Text

A quick warm-up scene, and essentially a sneak peek for the upcoming Pg. 42 Ln. 5, ‘The Brush of Death’ so uh, enjoy? (This takes place around chapter two of the fic from what my notes are suggesting):

"May I have this dance," an unknown man steps forward, causing Grif to quickly let go of Simmons' hands. Although the man didn't say a name, his hand is outstretched towards him and he only has eyes for Grif.

Now he has a choice here, he can either turn down the stranger and likely accidentally cause a scene which would be bad press or he could plaster on a fake smile and be as cordial as can be.

He shares a quick look with Simmons, and there's a strange look in the other hero's eyes, but nonetheless, he starts to walk towards the refreshment table saying, "I'll meet up with you later, Phantasmagoria."

Well, it's not like anyone could say that he wasn't trained by the 'best' manager. The choice- if it could be called that- was decisively clear.

They were here to entertain and entertainment was something he could do.

"Right," Grif nods at him, before looking back at the stranger. "Nice to meet you, Mr...?"

"Temple," the man supplies. "But you can just call me Mark."

Oh, that's why Simmons had gotten that look. This was the judge in charge of hero affairs for the Justice Bureau.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Grif lies. It was never a pleasure to meet any of these annoying higher-ups. They were always so stiff- especially if they were involved with the law.

Nothing good ever came out of lawyers or judges or politicians or the rest of their ilk.

"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine," the judge said. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you agreed to a dance?"

As much as he loathed taking the other man's hand, he was very much aware of the eyes that were suddenly turning to them.

Fucking charity balls. Gossip spread quicker than the goddamn plague.

So he took the other man's hand and let him take the lead, not caring to put too much effort in. It was very easy to just let muscle memory kick in, after all of those lessons Dylan made them attend so that they'd be able to not make bumbling fools of themselves.

Which wasn't all that fair considering that most of them were currently wearing their helmets with suits. The only ones in the Second League who looked moderately passable were him and Simmons, but considering that Simmons was still wearing his ornate crown and him his visor circlet they only barely made the cut.

At least his hair was long enough to braid, poor Simmons had to live with the fact that his crown covered most of his hair leaving only tufts peeking out from under.

"You know," the judge speaks up from what had been an otherwise easy moment to blank out of. "I think your power is the most fascinating."

What.

He nearly stops moving, very nearly tripping in his shock, but once again he relies on muscle memory to not draw attention to the pair.

"You look surprised," the man observes. "Did you think I wouldn't know?"

"Yes," he grits out because no one is supposed to know, that's the whole point, the whole shtick. It's what makes him sell-able to the audience.

"It's only reasonable that I know every detail about you heroes," the man shrugs nonchalantly. "After all, I wouldn't want to deliver a sentence on an innocent man for a crime or a damages fine that he didn't do. And for that, it's pertinent that I know whose powers can do what. You see?"

He doesn't respond to that.

"And yours is very underutilized," the man continues. "Only two limitations, yes? The touch of a human and your own imagination. You still occupy space but there's no timer, no drawback, nothing. Haven't you ever wondered what else you could do?"

"No," he snaps, and it's not a lie. Because he knows exactly the extent of his powers, and some judge acting as if he had hidden potential was very quickly souring his mood.

"I wonder," the judge supplies. "In theory, would you be able to cast an illusion over your own face- your own body even- to make you look like something or someone else?"

Once again, he stills. But then relaxes minutely, because it was a posed question and not an accusation.

So it seemed like he could keep some of his secrets after all.

"In theory," Grif throws the man a bone, hoping to get him to back the fuck off.

The judge lets go of Grif, pausing the dance, and somehow during all of that, they've managed to maneuver towards one of the solidarity corners of the ballroom, the judge with his back to the wall.

Pulling out a photo, well worn, the judge asks, "Do you think you could make yourself look like this man through an illusion?"

Squinting his eyes at the photo, he notices the sharp tear on the side and the leftover arm of someone else. The man in question is smiling brightly, arm wrapped around the torn off person, his bright blond hair being the most notable characteristic.

"I'm going to assume you're not going to leave me alone for the rest of the night unless I try out your theory," Grif glares at the man.

His unctuous smile not leaving his face, the judge says, "Well it couldn't hurt to play along, right?"

Keeping his glare on his face, he reaches into his pocket to pull out a bobby pin. Grabbing his braid, he raises it to his head, quickly loops it in a messy crown and pins it into place. He then runs his hand over the area, turning it blond with a simple gesture, eyes glowing blue.

He stares at the photo some more, before tapping his visor to make disappear from view, and he closes his eyes to make them the grey that he sees in the picture.

It's as he opens them that he sees a longing look bleed onto the judges face.

"Who even is that man," Grif asks, and that seems to shock the judge out of whatever had made him go all distant. "A criminal?"

"Ah, no," the judge says, voice wired with unbridled emotions. "He is... a missing man."

"Oh," he tries to muster up fake sympathy but finds he doesn't quite want to, especially not as he wears the mans face for the moment. "Was he married?"

"Yes," Temple nods his head. "He had a wife and a daughter, but I am afraid that Georgina is... no longer with us."

He's not enough of an idiot to not catch the familiarity that radiates from the man.

"What of the daughter? Are you taking care of her now that both her parents are gone," he asks.

"She's being well taken care of," the man supplies. "Or at least, that's what Mrs. Grey has assured me of."

Letting the illusion slip away, Grif finds that he is way more uncomfortable right now than he had been when Dylan had forced them all into suits earlier that day.

"Well, your theory bears truth," he says. "And you've had your dance. Now if you would excuse me, sir, I'm going to take my leave."

There's a strange look on the judge's face, but he nods saying, "That's only fair. I hope our paths will meet again, Phantasmagoria."

Not staying to give the man a response, he turns around and starts walking towards where Simmons is awkwardly holding a champagne glass.

He needed a stiff drink.

But behind him, the judge still hasn't moved.

And Grif thinks he isn't supposed to hear the man mutter, "Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"

That fucker was a fan of Shakespeare, was he? Fine, two could play at this game.

"I pray you do not fall in love with me. For I am falser than vows made in wine," Grif quotes loud enough for the other man to hear. He smirks a tad as he delivers the next line, "Besides, I like you not."

Shock blossoms onto the judges face, but disappointingly it's not followed by embarrassment. Which, ok, sure thing asshole, don't respond when called out on your creepiness.

Not garnering the reaction he had hoped, he goes to Simmons and the other heroes like he should have done earlier.

#My writing #My fic #Scribes WIP #Pg. 42 Ln. 5 'The Brush of Death'#Second Series Act One #which I guess is now the series tag idk #T&B/RvB AU #*me clapping my hands* shakespeare references because who's gonna stop meeee #also this kinda makes me want to do fun drawings of an As You Like It AU for giggles #Grif as Rosalind/Ganymede #and Simmons as Orlando #Grif to Temple: you're ugly as fuck deal with it #Temple's internal monologue through this is basically:#'god I sure hope he doesn't realize I'm a serial killer :/'

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tsuki-sennin · 3 years ago

Text

Itadakimasu~! Time for another great Sunday lunch with our Cure friends~! Today I'm having a couple slices of leftover pizza. And what a crap pizza it is. Very flat and floppy, the cheese is all off, the pepperoni is weak... I don't even know who made it, the box it came in just said "Pizza!" And let me tell you, microwaving it just made me real sad.

Anyways, Spoilers, I guess...

-Chururin, the world's deadliest serial killer.

-CureSta seems a lot less terrible than the real thing, I tell you what.

-Wǒ ài lāmiàn~! I'd argue that the professional kind is worth moving straight to the Far East for.

-Mem-Mem,,,

-Member's Only Churro Kururun Glutten Free Meme Dragon.

-Hanamichi~! Good to see you.

-That's a whole-ass panda.

-I rarely order ramen from actual restaurants, and I'm personally more of an udon kinda guy anyway, but last year, I ordered a bowl of noodles from a semi-local sushi place with shio broth, bamboo shoots, spinach, a whole boiled egg, and some narutomaki. Now I'm told that the perfect compliment to any perfectly crafted bowl of noodles is a beer, but I couldn't buy any at the time, so...

-Yui Nagomi, a connoisseur fluent in the art of noodle.

-Ran's dad lookin' pretty DILF-y, ngl. Kinda looks like Tao Pai Pai from Dragon Ball though. Makes sense, considering Toei Animation, but...

-The passion in the art of fine cuisine is nothing to be ashamed of.

-Ramen Fairy~! They bring

-Chururin~!

-Mari-chan, she's already seen the Recipeppi, I don't think covering poor Mem-Mem's gonna do much.

-Oyone :O

-Do ALL the old people in this town know each other?

-Act natural, Mem-Mem. Ran won't suspect a thing.

-Panda Get!

-Dwagon...

-Oh yeah, there's a ton of fairies! Mermaids too! And aliens, and time travel! Robots too!

-Ran's got poise!

-The power of love for cuisine...

-God, Gentle is like... peak character design.

-And yes, I'm calling her Gentle. "Jentoru" is that word written in katakana, Gentlu is a stupid romanization, Crunchyroll sucks, moving on.

-I guess they wouldn't show up in a public library, even in a food-devoted town like this.

-PRESIDENT AMANE IS GENTLE :O

-I mean, it's not that big a twist, considering how similar their designs are, but damn.

-...Cure Gentle confirmed?

-We're having a sale~!

-Working for a day, huh?

-Damn, I've got a hankerin' for ramen now. Even the cheap stuff feels like a gentle mid-summer kiss if you use the right ingredients!

-Ramen Musume. Coming soon to HiDive.

-Mem-Mem said "Peace out, yo."

-We're gonna share an asswhoopin!

-He go zoom.

-Oh man, I just realized. It's not just the food that suffers, it's business too!

-Beat 'em up, Ram!

-Ohhhhhh, bringin' up the price. That's cruel.

-Oh c'mon Mari, she's been working all day and has been getting tossed around for like five minutes. She's earned a big fuck-off bowl of premium ramen.

-Yeeeeeah, that's right Mari! Kokone too!

-Hanyaaaa~!

-Fuck 'em up, sweetie!

-Get 'er!

-Daaaamn, Mem-Mem got some fire!

-Mega sized rarity!

-Yum-Yum Dragon! Are you ready? Wake up burning! Get Yum-Yum Dragon! Yeah~!

-Cure Yum-Yum is the funniest and cutest goddamn name I've ever heard.

-Ohhhh, she got slashes!

-Traingles, Circles, and now Lines... Geometry.

-Well, two seems like the minimum Cure number, so...

-They're all together now!

-Yui-pyon~! Koko-pi~! Yep, definitely OT3 material.

-Marippe~!

-Our gurl is an influencer! ...I sure hope she doesn't find herself in cancellation range.

-Mmm... pineapple juice. Great for immune system health and heart rates.

-A tour of the town, huh? That sounds like a great time! I hope nothing wacky or uncharacteristic happens~!

-Man, PreCure towns just seem like the best place to be in the world, no matter the season, huh? ...the travel blog potential must be incredible.

-Alright, I uh... wound up getting a real hankerin' for some ramen, but I'll be coming back later today for Revice content! Probably over dinner, judging by the way my schedule currently looks right now.

#delicious party precure #depapre #delicious party pretty cure #if you receive a little kindness give them a large serving!#pretty cure #precure

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via-rant · 1 year ago

Text

"Wait... what?!" She asked as the words processed.

"Oh! Um... apologies for my sudden outburst, your heighness, but... what?" She asked again not knowing how to word it.

"Yes. My apologies. You must be confused. Let me explain."

--------

Leo was scared out of his mind when he took her away. God, he couldn't imagine what he wanted with her. What he would do to her. He only kept his mouth shut at the threat of being killed. He wanted to yell how she was still a child. He'd turn into a serial killer if they did anything to her. But didn't wanna die if he judged to soon. The guards might've been brutal but the king stared at Hazel in a sort of familiarity, sadness. Plus he spoke up against the guard before he did with the proding. So he stayed quiet.

"So... what to do with you?" The guard asked circling him.

"Look, man. I'm just-" He smacked him and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at him.

"I didn't give you permission to speak, slut." He spat and Leo bit the inside of his cheek so hard, he swore he made a cold sore.

"The fact that your people are even given the time of day..."

"What would 'my people' include, exactly?" The guard lifted his knee and smashed his face against it, and then his head into the ground, holding him there. Leo sputtered for a second, head spinning, nose spewing blood.

"Freaks." He whispered in his ear. He forced him to stand up, and put him in an empty cell, hands still tied behind his back. The guard came in with him, closing the door behind him. God he hoped Hazel was okay.

--------

Hazel didn't know what to feel. She was a princess. For fucks sake, a princess. She has a dad, and a brother. Well... that's how normal people would react to it. She also felt a little excited. Suddenly she's rich, she wouldn't have to go hungry anymore, have to do bad things just for a small portion of food or certain hair products. Her or Leo... when she remembered Leo she bolted up and immediately went to look for him.

She ran all over the place until she ran into her... the king. She wasn't comfortable calling him "Dad". She wasn't sure if she was ever going to be.

"Hi... um... your heighness, I was wondering if you know where my friend went? You know, after you talked to me?"

"Oh, well... no. Perhaps you should talk to Dylan. The guard that handled you two earlier. I'm sure he knows." He assured. She sighed but nodded.

"Oh and Hazel. I... I know this is confusing but you can talk to me or your brother if you have any questions." He said and she relaxed a little. "Um... thanks."

She ran off again. She thought that if she did have any royal questions she could ask them. But she knew she could talk to Leo about the rest of it. God she needs to find Leo. Leo, Leo, Leo, Leo, Leo... Dylan! Right!

When she found him, he looked in a better mood than before, so she hoped she could talk to him better. Though a feeling of dread washed over her. She ignored it and walked right up to him.

"Um... hi. Dylan, right? So... kind of a big surprise I'm the princess. So, no need to put me in a cell, like you wanted to do an hour ago."

"Yeah, yeah, everyone been raving about it."

"Right, but about my friend, Leo. Where... is he?" It was quiet for a few seconds. "He ran away."

"... What?"

"Yeah... he heard of you being a princess and just... left when he had the chance. I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do really. He wasn't even invited here in the first place."

"But I wanted him here."

"Maybe it was jealousy." He said shrugging.

"Jealousy? Leo, doesn't get jealous. He gets... scared." And the realization hit her. He thought she was going to hurt him. She wiped her eyes.

"I'm going to find him. Let the king know."

------

Edited it lol

From this!!!

-----------

"Leo!" Percy yelled running to him and hugging him. Leo smiled rolling his eyes but patting his back. "I wasn't gonna die Perc."

"No, but you could've!" He yelled flicking his forehead when he pulled away. "There's a such thing called thinking you know!"

"Right. And your schemes are much better."

"Mine are stealthier."

"Yeah, only because you wouldn't be able to face them if they caught you." Percy put him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. Leo struggled out of his grip and fixed his hair before sticking his tongue out at him, all with a giant smile.

"Okay, you 2 cut it out." Hazel said and Percy smiled hugging her too.

"No noogies for her huh? I see how it is Percy." He just laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Alright alright, you have what I asked for?" He asked and Leo smirked.

"Doubting the best criminals on the block? How cruel of you." He said giving him the bread he stole from the local baker. Percy and his mom really needed all the help they could get, and the two of them were master thievs. Of course, Sally knew nothing about it. They didn't want her to worry about his safety 24/7. They could handle it.

As a benefit, they have a seat at their table if they need it now. After trying to steal some of their food about a year ago, she felt for them and let them sit at their table. They weren't well off, but they had enough. They were always like that. They help them when they need it just like they do for them.

But they go on missions to help each other, mostly. They can't stay at their place and they all know that. They only have enough for the four of them - Estelle as the 4th - and the occasional guests. They understood.

So they steal what they can.

Him and Hazel were like siblings. Her and his family were close family friends for a while until Hazels mom went bezerk for some unknown reason. But Leos Mom kept contact, as she had a connection to Hazel and wanted to make sure she was okay. Her and Leo hung out a lot because of it.

Then Leo lived with her for a little bit after his mom died. They resorted to thievery before Mari died because she refused to go to the store and they ran out of money at that point. When she did die, her body found unmoving in the living room with pills everywhere, they promised never to leave each other.

---------

"What is this?" Hazel asked looking at the piece of paper. Her and Leo got caught but actually caught this time. They had no escape. Especially after they got tranquilized. The guard looked at her and sighed.

"The king requests your presence."

"The king?"

"Yes. Just you though. The other rat can stay here." Hazel glared.

"No."

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, witch. Everyone knows about your mother. How much she influenced you." He said and she still glared but now with tears in her eyes. Leo immediately came to her defense.

"Listen here, rich-bitch! You-"

"Great. The murderer is talking." Leo felt bad for a second until Hazel grabbed his hand. Leo took a breath.

"I'm not going unless he's going."

"How sweet. The witch protecting the slut." He said and Hazel clenched her fists while Leo felt tears in his eyes.

"But fine. Anything to keep this going." He said and had them follow him to the prison transport.

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"If the king wants us..." She didn't need to continue. He knew what she meant. What does he want with us?

He took a breath. "We'll get out of this."

------

I love this, I love this, I love this, I love this, I love thiiiisssss!!

Tags: @moa-broke-me @im-always-lost-in-a-book

#leo valdez #hoo #heros of olympus #au ideas

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the-coffee-story · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee - The Plague Doctor's Revenge

Chapter 11 - Back on the Motorway Bridge

"So how exactly do you plan to find him?", Thasfield asked when they were standing on the top floor of the parking lot ten minutes later. An icy wind was blowing around the trio. Coffee shivered.

Violet nodded, smiled, then took a deep breath. "We, uh, have no idea."

"Oh, wonderful," Sean mumbled and Violet glared at him.

"Hey Cof," she suddenly said, turning to him. His head jolted up. "Hm?"

"What's the best hiding places in Graytown if you're trying not to be spotted?"

"Hmm." He furrowed his brows, trying to find the words. Then he realized Thasfield wasn't fluent in sign language anyway and grabbed his phone from his pocket.

"I'd say the motorway bridge, it's a good spot to look across the city without being seen. On the other hand I left some stuff up there, so I'm not sure whether anyone would stay for long. Depends on how willing he is to risk meeting someone else."

Violet narrowed her pretty green eyes. "So you suggest we search there?"

Coffee shrugged his narrow shoulders.

"At least that's where I stayed most of the time while the whole drama happened."

Violet suddenly got flustered and started running a hand through her curls in embarrassment. "Oh my God. You heard us, right?"

Coffee felt himself flushing red when he remembered hearing her and Franklin exchanging meaningless little flirts a few months ago, words she'd meant to say to him, not his brother. "Uh-huh."

Violet groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Uhm." Thasfield cleared his throat. "Can we get back on topic?"

"Right. Sorry." Violet blew her hair out of her face. "Motorway bridge."

***

"So you hid here for...what was it? A couple months?", Thasfield asked while they were climbing up a narrow metal ladder to the grating of the bridge. Coffee nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Doesn't look very comfortable."

He shrugged his shoulders and reached out to the dusty grating.

"Sorry, I forgot you can't talk right now."

Coffee giggled and waved it off. Then he climbed through the hole in the grating.

Thasfield's square face grew worried when he saw the hole. "I...well, I'm not sure whether I'll fit through-"

"Come on, even Doc did," Violet's throaty voice came from the darkness behind him. She was barely visible in the shadows save for the glint of her eyes.

"Have you seen him?!", Thasfield countered. "He's a stick!"

"Yeah, one that is 6'8 long!"

"Alright, alright." He sighed. Coffee held his hand out and Thasfield took it.

The catwalk was narrow and dusty. Cobwebs clung to the concrete around them while Coffee led the others through the labyrinth. Their only source of light was the city across the river and more than once he could hear a metallic clunk when one of them bumped into a pipe followed by cussing.

"I hate spiders," Thasfield mumbled after running face forward into the third web of the night. He spat over the dusty railing of the catwalk. "Bah! Disgusting!"

"Yeah, I doubt your coat will still be black once we get out of here," Violet commented in a whisper. Her smirk was audible.

Coffee gently ducked when he noticed a freshly torn web in front of them. He raised his hand to signal a stop.

"What is it?", Violet asked.

He pointed at the web.

"Someone was here," Thasfield whispered.

"It's fresh," Coffee signed. "Whoever passed through is still here."

Suddenly they heard a shuffle from the dark catwalk in front of them. Coffee jumped.

"Against the wall, quick!", Thasfield hissed.

They lined up against the cold concrete, side by side, having no idea what was going to happen next. Coffee's heartbeat was drumming in his ears, so loud that a part of him feared the Plague Doctor might hear him.

Then a sound echoed through the labyrinth of steel and concrete. A quiet wince of pain. Coffee glanced over to the others.

"He's hurt," he signed. Violet nodded. Her green eyes shimmered in the dark. Her breath was forming clouds around her. One of her hands was clutching her belly in fear.

Suddenly a silhouette appeared in the darkness of the corridor. They could hear irregular footsteps coming closer. He walks with a limp, Coffee thought. In his mind he counted through every strategy of self defense he could use if necessary, then realized the only thing that gave him a realistic chance in case the plan went wrong was a quick escape Spiderman-style. Even then, his experiences had proven that the Plague Doctor was just as good as him. The only thing he could hope for was that everything would go well.

The Plague Doctor turned his head a little and the lights of the city reflected in the tinted glass of his mask, making it look like his eyes were glowing red.

Coffee's hand slid into Violet's and she gently squeezed it.

And suddenly the stranger turned his head and stared directly at them.

Coffee's eyes widened and he felt the blood draining from his face. Violet's pulse was hammering in his hand and he could hear Thasfield's breath racing. The metal beneath his feet seemed to bend and the world felt like it was spiraling out of control. He realized he was about to faint and angrily bit his lip to keep himself conscious.

The Plague Doctor was frozen still.

Both parties spent at least a minute staring at each other, unable to move, paralyzed by terror.

"Please don't hurt me...!", the Plague Doctor finally whispered. His voice was surprisingly soft, with a velvety German accent.

Violet blinked. "I...yeah, I was about to say the same."

"Oh." He tilted his head in confusion. "You're... you're not here to...?"

"Nope." That was Thasfield. "Actually we came here to check whether you need any help."

"Oh." He looked a little overwhelmed. "I...okay, this is awkward." He nervously laughed. "Uh...tschuldigung, I mean, sorry, I...wasn't expecting anyone here-"

Violet waved it off. "No, we have to apologize, we scared you."

"Who are you?", the Plague Doctor asked.

"We're private investigators," Thasfield explained. He was surprisingly calm. Then again, as a former serial killer he was probably used to stuff like this. "I'm Sean, here's Violet and Coffee."

Coffee waved and smiled shakily.

"Uh...hallo." The Plague Doctor nervously brushed a black curl out of his face. His silky hair reached his knees. From up close Coffee could see a few silver strands in it.

"What's your name?", Thasfield asked.

He hesitated.

"Keine Ahnung, erm...can I trust you?"

Violet shrugged her shoulders. "That's your decision, really."

He hesitated.

"My name is Wilhelm Wisper."

***

He'd gone through hell. He didn't say it out loud but it was apparent. The limp, the missing arm, the fact that the mask stayed on told them more than words.

Wilhelm told them everything. They'd had a fight. She'd thrown a burning candle at him. His sleeve had caught fire. She'd fled.

"What are you gonna do now?"

Coffee handed his phone to Wilhelm, who quickly read through the message.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Keine Ahnung. Wait until there's some evidence against Eugenia, then strike and try to prove it was her fault. And in the meantime I'll stay here, I guess."

"Our co-worker Doc Tilch is coming back from Scotland this evening with evidence," Thasfield quietly said. "Perhaps we'll find something."

"Thank you."

"You could come with us," Violet suggested.

Wilhelm flinched a little. "I... I'm not sure whether that'd be good."

"Uh...do you have a phone then?"

"Ja. I mean...yes." He dug through the pockets of his dusty black jacket and took out a black Samsung with a shattered display.

"Can I get your phone number so we can call you if something new happens?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Klar."