#Emily Askin

[delilahsturniolo]

no body, no crime

— m.s

find other parts on my masterlist!

chapter 5 . . . cold blooded

in which . . . you and matt are private investigators, trying to figure out an unsolved murder from years ago.

warnings . . . use of a knife to hurt someone, murder, blood, violence, graphic descriptions and physically fighting. read with discretion.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, re use, or modify my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission. happy reading! :)

your vision was hazy as your eyes began to flutter open, your head was pounding and your hearing was slightly muffled. your eyes scanned your surroundings.

it was a dark room, no windows, absolutely empty. you tried getting up, but only hitting the floor again. you looked down, realizing that your wrists and ankles were firmly tied together.

great. just great.

you grunted in pain, the rope stinging against your skin. suddenly, all of your memory was coming back to you.

you were at gianna’s house…she gave you tea…then drugged you…

and now, you were here. absolutely helpless, no one to save you. that was, until you heard heavy footsteps echoing. you quickly adjusted your position, preparing for whoever would walk in. you were expecting gianna, but that wasn’t who walked in.

a tall, middle aged looking man entered the room. he had a plaid shirt on and short blonde hair. his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, showing off his hairy chest.

wait a minute…you recognized this man. it was the same guy who walked in emily’s room when you and matt were looking for the diary.

gianna’s dad, max jones. what was he doing here?

“i see you’re finally awake?” max taunted, looking down at your weak frame. you struggle against the rope.

“let me go.” you demanded, max only laughed, finding your struggles to be amusing.

“i’m afraid i cannot do that, you know too much, sweetheart.” max teased, stupidly smiling at you. your eyes widened out of realization.

“you. it was you.” your voice wobbled as you spoke.

“you killed emily and justin. it was you!” you raised your voice slightly. max grabbed you by your collar, lifting you up slightly and holding you against the wall firmly. you gasped, your heart beginning to race.

“took you long enough to figure it out, pretty girl.” max teased, you almost threw up from the nickname he called you.

“why? why did you do it?” you asked him, practically pleading. nothing made sense, nothing added up to you. how did all the evidence lead to…him?

max scoffed. “you seriously askin’ me that? i fuckin’ hated that justin kid, he wasn’t good enough for my daughter.”

“and that gives you the right to kill him?” you raised an eyebrow, max’s grip on you tightened, causing you to wince.

“shut the fuck up. i shot him, and then my daughter saw. i couldn’t let emily live knowing she saw what i did. so, i shot her too. justin already owned a gun, i grabbed it with gloves so my DNA wouldn’t be on it and framed him.” he explained.

“you’re disgusting.” you commented. you couldn’t believe it, you were standing in front of a murderer. he was psychotic.

“just wait till i tell the police.” you smirked confidently, max shook his head. he took out a kitchen knife from his back pocket, you froze as he placed it upon the side of your neck.

“oh no no no, you won’t be telling the police shit. you won’t be getting out of here alive either.” max pressed the knife against your neck, your breath hitched as a tiny drop of blood seeped out.

that was it. this was your last straw. you tried wriggling free from his grip, but nothing worked. the knife against your neck was threatening, you knew he could end your life with one quick movement.

max grunted against your struggles, holding his sleeve against your mouth to muffle your yells.

“scream all you want, sweetheart. no one can hear you, we’re in a warehouse in a very isolated place.” max told you, giving your neck one last squeeze before letting go of you and walking away, slamming the door behind him.

you slid down the wall breathlessly, hitting the floor. you sat there, tied up and useless as tears formed in your eyes. he was right, no one could save you. no one would hear you, no matter how loud you screamed or cried.

a singular tear rolled down your face, you began to softly cry. in this moment, all you wanted was matt. to be in the warmth of his embrace, to have your lips on his again. you missed him. you should have listened to him, he was only trying to protect you. and all you cared about was this dumb case.

you abruptly stopped crying, you came to a realization. a knife, you always had a knife in your back pocket. you could use it to cut the rope, that is if you could reach it.

you grunted as your restrained wrists behind your back attempted to reach into the back pocket of your jeans. you felt the handle of the sharp knife, sliding it out of the pocket.

you couldn’t see what you were doing, or where you were cutting. you firmly slid the knife back and forth on the rope, gaining hope as it slowly began to rip.

you untangled the rope from your wrists, grabbing the knife and working on your ankle restraints now. you had to be quick, max could walk in any moment now.

finally, you freed your ankled and tossed the rope to the side and slid the knife back into your pocket. you stood up, your legs a bit wobbly at first, but you gained your balance within a few seconds.

suddenly, your heart dropped.

your eyes widened with fear as max walked back in. his eyebrows furrowed, realizing you broke free. he began rapidly approaching you, you gasped and swung your fist, sending him backward.

max scoffed. “oh, you little bitch.” he murmured, grabbing you and slamming you against the wall harshly, you winced in pain, trying to hit and kick him as much as you possibly could.

max took out his knife, holding it against your chest, threatening to kill you. after all, you were his next victim.

and that’s when you completely lost it.

you gripped the handle of his knife, grabbing the weapon and disarming him. his eyes widened in surprise as you shoved him backwards, the knife in your hand.

“pfft, what are you gonna do with that? you’re a cop, you can’t kill me. that wouldn’t look so good on your record, yeah?” max taunted, provoking you even more.

you stepped closer to him.

“and then what? no one would believe you and your little detective partner. they’d want you both dead, in jail. that kid is just using you, he doesn’t fuckin’ like you.” max smirked.

something about that last part set you off. fuck, it did more than set you off. it made you go crazy. max tried grabbing you again, but you held the knife up high, stabbing it right through his chest.

“what the fu—“ max groaned in agony from the knife, tears of anger slipped down your face as you twisted it, making him scream from the pain.

he could barely speak, he fell backwards with a big thud, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the knife was stuck in the middle of his chest.

you stood there in shock, realizing what you had just done. your hands were shaky and your face was tear stricken.

blood, blood everywhere. blood pooling from his body, blood on your hands.

he was dead. you killed a man.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

a/n 💌: matt wasn’t in this chapter but I promise he’ll be there next time! and, i’m sorry for the ending. i wont leave you all hanging for long, i’m working on the next part. but, it’ll all make sense soon..

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Six of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock.

Word Count: 3,583

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, domestic violence, police work, gun violence, pregnancy

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I couldn't resist--I gotta have me some Beau while writing Dean! This is a brand new story of Beau and female reader!

Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Six: Best Laid Plans

The trailer was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the wind brushing against the walls. Outside, the Montana wilderness stretched into the night, the stars scattered like diamonds across an endless sky. Beau Arlen leaned against the counter, nursing a cold beer, while Carla sat on the worn couch, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“Emily’s really loving Texas,” Carla said, her voice soft but filled with pride. “She’s got her groove. A great group of friends, professors who actually challenge her... it’s like she’s found her place.”

Beau smiled, nodding. “She’s always been a smart one. College just gave her room to spread her wings.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes. Feels like yesterday I was teachin’ her to ride a bike.”

“Now she’s navigating Austin like a pro,” Carla said, smiling. “We did good, Beau. She’s thriving because of us.”

“Mostly you,” Beau replied, tipping his beer toward her. “You kept her steady when I... well, you know.”

Carla waved him off. “That’s the past. You’ve always been there when it mattered. And she knows it.”

Beau nodded, the warmth of her words settling over him. “You think she’s okay down there, all that way from home?”

“She misses you,” Carla said, meeting his eyes. “You should go see her. You showing up would mean the world to her.”

Beau sighed, staring out the small window at the dark expanse. “I’ve been thinking about it. Just... don’t want to get in her way. She’s got her own life now.”

“Beau,” Carla said firmly. “You’re her dad. Showing up isn’t getting in her way; it’s being there for her. Big difference.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ll figure it out.”

The silence that followed was easy, punctuated by the occasional crackle of the woodstove. Carla leaned back, studying him. “So,” she began, drawing the word out, “what about you? Any big news?”

Beau hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Well... there is someone.”

Carla’s brows shot up. “Someone? Do tell.”

“Her name’s Y/N,” he said, his tone softening. “She’s incredible. Smart, funny, beautiful. And she’s got a daughter, Eliza. Sweet kid. Sweet kid.” He smiled, aware he repeated himself. “She’s like sunshine, Carla.”

Carla tilted her head, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Beau Arlen, you’re smitten.”

He chuckled, setting his beer down. “Yeah, maybe I am.” He knew better. He was absolutely in love, even though they hadn’t said it. “They’ve got me wrapped around their little fingers, and I don’t even mind.”

“How serious is it?” Carla asked, leaning forward slightly.

Beau hesitated, then looked her straight in the eyes. “Serious enough that I’ve been thinkin’ about askin’ her to marry me.”

Carla blinked, her surprise giving way to delight. “Are you kidding me? That’s amazing, Beau!”

“Yeah, well...” He rubbed the back of his neck again, a sheepish grin on his face. “It’s just... what if it’s too soon? What if she’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?”

Carla got up, crossing the small space to stand in front of him. “Beau, listen to me. You’ve been through a lot, but you’re not the kind of man who lets fear stop him. And from the way you talk about her with that look on your face, I’d bet my last dollar she feels the same way about you.”

“You really think so?” he asked, his voice quieter now. God, he wanted to believe it. He’d spent so much time with Y/N, almost nightly now, and his life was so much the better for it. Their lives were merging in an incredible way and it felt so immensely peaceful for him.

“I do,” she said, resting a hand on his arm. “Look, second chances don’t come around often. If you’ve found something this good, don’t let it slip away. Go for it, Beau. You deserve to be happy.”

He nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. “Thanks, Carla. Means a lot, comin’ from you.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I just want you to be happy. And I think you’ve found someone who can do that.”

The wind picked up outside, rattling the trailer slightly. Beau glanced out the window, the stars bright against the deep black of the Montana sky. For the first time in a long time, he felt a quiet certainty settling in his chest.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice steady. “It’s time I stop overthinkin’ it.” God, he was going to ask Y/N to marry him. He even had a ring in mind, one he hoped she’d love.

“Good,” Carla said, her smile widening. “Now, go get the girl.”

Beau chuckled, reaching for his beer again. As they sat together in the small, cozy space, the future felt a little clearer, the path ahead illuminated by more than just the stars.

The next night:

The hum of the lights overhead mixed with the occasional ring of the phone and the chatter of deputies as Beau sat at his desk, his boots propped up on the corner. His cellphone rested in his hand, the screen glowing faintly as he typed out a message.

Hey, Y/N. Was thinking about you. Any chance you’d want to grab dinner this week? Just us.

He stared at the message, debating whether to hit send. It wasn’t that he doubted she’d say yes—things had been going well between them, better than he’d dared to hope. But something about putting himself out there, asking for something so normal, felt... big. Because it wasn’t going to be just a dinner date—it was going to be so much more.

Before he could overthink it further, he tapped send. A faint buzz confirmed the message was delivered.

“Sheriff,” Deputy Morales called, poking his head into the office. “Anything you need before I head out?”

Beau shook his head. “Nope. Go home, Morales. Get some rest.”

The deputy nodded and disappeared down the hall, leaving Beau alone. He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him, and glanced at his phone again, hoping for a quick reply from Y/N. Instead, the device buzzed with an incoming call from dispatch.

“This is Sheriff Arlen,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting to business.

“Sheriff, we’ve got a report of a domestic disturbance at 341 Maple Road,” the dispatcher said. “Caller says there’s a gun involved. Sounds volatile.”

Beau sat up, his boots hitting the floor with a thud. “Any injuries reported?”

“Not yet, but the line went dead before we could get more details.”

“Understood. Send backup. I’m on my way,” Beau said, already grabbing his jacket and hat.

The weight of the situation settled over him as he strode out of the office. Domestic calls were always unpredictable, and the mention of a firearm added a layer of urgency. He climbed into his truck, the engine roaring to life as he flipped on the lights and siren.

As he sped toward Maple Road, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat. He glanced at it briefly, catching Y/N’s name on the screen.

Dinner sounds great. How about Friday?

A smile flickered across his face, brief but warm, before he forced his focus back on the road. “Friday it is,” he murmured to himself, gripping the wheel tighter.

By the time he arrived at the house, two patrol cars were already parked outside, their lights casting a red and blue glow over the quiet street. Beau stepped out of his truck, his hand instinctively resting on the butt of his holstered gun as he approached the scene.

Deputy Poppernak was standing near the porch, his face tense. “Sheriff. The caller’s inside. Husband’s armed, yelling at the wife. Neighbors said they heard shouting and what sounded like a gunshot earlier.”

Beau nodded, his jaw tightening. “Where’s the wife?”

“Inside with him. She hasn’t come out.”

Beau glanced at the house, the front window lit but curtains drawn. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “All right, let’s keep this calm. No sudden moves. You and Jenkins stay here and cover the exits. I’ll try to talk to him.”

Poppernak hesitated. “You sure, Sheriff? He’s got a gun—”

“I’m sure,” Beau said firmly. “If we escalate, someone’s goin’ to get hurt.”

With that, he approached the door, his steps measured. He knocked firmly, his voice steady but commanding. “My name is Beau Arlen. I’m the sheriff of Big Sky. I’m here to talk.”

There was silence, followed by a muffled shout from inside. “Go away!”

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Beau called back. “I just want to make sure everyone’s all right.”

The seconds stretched, each one taut with tension, before the door creaked open just a crack. A man’s face appeared, angry and lined with frustration. “I said, go away.”

“Look, I get it. Things can get heated. But I need to make sure no one’s hurt in there. Can I come in and talk?”

The man hesitated, his grip tightening on something just out of sight. Beau’s gaze didn’t waver, his tone calm but firm. “You don’t want this to get worse, do you? Let’s just talk. That’s all.”

The man seemed to consider it, his eyes darting nervously toward the living room. Beau caught a glimpse of the woman inside, her face pale and tear-streaked. She had a split lip and it looked like she had a black eye. Beau fought to keep his temper in place.

“Alright,” the man muttered finally, opening the door wider. “But no funny business.”

Beau stepped inside slowly, his hands visible. “No funny business. Just a conversation.”

As the door closed behind him, the weight of the situation deepened. But Beau had been here before—walking into chaos and trying to bring calm. He just hoped this time, his words would be enough.

The fluorescent lights in the grocery store buzzed faintly, casting a clinical glow over the neatly stocked shelves. Y/N pushed her cart slowly, her mind half-focused on her task and half on Eliza, who had been unusually fussy all day. She hated seeing her little girl under the weather, and the image of her curled up in the shopping cart clutching her rabbit plushy tugged at her heart. For once, the little wolf-child was uncharacteristically quiet and subdue.

She stopped in the pharmacy section, scanning the shelves for something to help. Children’s fever reducer, cough syrup, throat lozenges—her eyes darted over the options. Grabbing a small bottle of grape-flavored medicine, she placed it in the cart. It would do for now.

As she turned to leave the aisle, something caught her eye. A small display of pregnancy tests. She paused, her steps faltering. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen them, but this time, something nagged at her—a faint worry that she’d been ignoring.

Her breath hitched as realization struck. Her period was late. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before, but now, standing in front of the shelves, she couldn’t shake the sudden clarity. It wasn’t just a couple of days. It was more than several weeks.

Y/N felt her pulse quicken as her gaze settled on the colorful boxes. The idea seemed impossible, even absurd. Her life had just started to feel steady, normal—whatever that meant anymore. But as much as she wanted to dismiss the thought, the faint possibility hung in the air like a weight she couldn’t ignore.

She glanced around, almost embarrassed, though no one else was paying attention. With a shaky hand, she grabbed one of the tests and dropped it into the seat of her cart, quickly covering it with a loaf of bread and a bag of apples. Her cheeks burned, but the panic she felt was sharper than the embarrassment.

“Okay,” she muttered under her breath, trying to calm herself. “It’s probably nothing. Yeah. Just… a weird reaction to the birth control. Oh God,” she whispered some more to herself. “We were using birth control. How could this happen?”

But the knot in her stomach said otherwise. As she wheeled her cart toward the checkout, her thoughts raced. If the test confirmed what she suspected, everything would change. Her life. Eliza’s. And Beau’s.

Beau. The thought of him sent a fresh wave of emotions crashing over her. She’d been falling for him, harder and faster than she’d expected. He’d been nothing but kind and steady, a man who cared for her and Eliza like they were his own. But would he be ready for this? For another child? Especially when he had a child college-bound? He was probably done with kids… what if…

She tried to shake the thoughts as she paid for her groceries, offering the cashier a distracted smile. The drive home was a blur, her mind a storm of questions and fears. As she pulled into the driveway and glanced toward the backseat, she saw Eliza asleep in the car seat. That tiny moment of sweetness eased the tension in Y/N’s chest, even if just for a second.

Once the groceries were put away, Eliza settled in her crib for a nap, she found herself in the bathroom, the small box in her hands. Her heart pounded as she stared at it, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

“Just do it,” she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath. Whatever happened, she’d face it. For Eliza. For herself. And maybe, just maybe, for Beau.

The house was stifling, the air thick with tension. Beau stood in the small, cluttered living room, his hands raised slightly, palms out in a gesture of calm. Across from him, the man—tall, wiry, and shaking with anger—clutched a handgun. His knuckles were white, his breathing ragged.

“All right, buddy,” Beau said, his voice steady and low. “Let’s take a step back. Nobody here wants this to end badly.”

The man’s gaze darted between Beau and the woman sitting on the couch, her face streaked with tears. She looked terrified but hadn’t moved, as if afraid any sudden action might set him off.

“She doesn’t listen!” the man shouted, his grip on the gun tightening. “She doesn’t respect me!”

“I hear you,” Beau said, nodding slowly. “Sounds like you’re feelin’ ignored, maybe disrespected. That’s a tough place to be. But this?” He motioned subtly toward the gun. “This ain’t gonna fix it.”

The man’s lip curled, but his posture softened slightly, his shoulders sagging as doubt began to creep into his expression. Beau pressed on, his tone calm but insistent.

“You’ve got a choice here,” he said. “You can put the gun down, and we can talk this through. Find a way to make things better. Or…” He paused, letting the alternative hang heavy in the air. “Or things get worse, for everyone.”

The man blinked, his jaw working as if he were chewing over Beau’s words. Beau could see the cracks forming, the anger beginning to crumble under the weight of guilt and exhaustion.

“Come on,” Beau urged gently. “Let’s make this right.”

For a moment, it seemed like the man might listen. His grip on the gun loosened, and his arm lowered slightly. Beau took a cautious step forward, his hands still raised. “That’s it. You’re doin’ the right thing.”

Then, outside, the faint crunch of boots on gravel broke the fragile quiet. Through the corner of his eye, Beau caught the movement of deputies circling the house, their shapes silhouetted against the windows.

The man’s head snapped up, his face twisting in fury. “You lied to me!” he bellowed, raising the gun again. “You brought them here!”

“No, no!” Beau said quickly, his hands raised higher. “They’re just here to make sure everyone’s safe. This is still just you and me, all right? Look at me. Focus on me.”

But the man wasn’t listening anymore. His breathing turned erratic, and his finger twitched on the trigger. Beau moved without thinking, lunging forward to grab the weapon. They collided, the gun clattering against the floor as the two men grappled.

“Let it go!” Beau growled, his voice straining as he fought to wrest control of the weapon.

The man twisted violently, his elbow catching Beau in the ribs. They stumbled into the coffee table, sending a lamp crashing to the ground. Beau pinned the man’s wrist, but the fight was chaotic, and the gun remained too close.

“Deputies, hold your position!” Beau yelled, his voice breaking through the scuffle.

The struggle came to a head in a split second of chaos. The man’s hand wrenched free, and as Beau reached for the gun again, a deafening bang shattered the air.

Beau staggered back, his hand instinctively flying to his stomach. The pain was sharp and immediate, stealing the breath from his lungs. He looked down, his hand coming away slick with blood. The room swayed around him as the gun fell to the floor and the man froze, his face pale with shock.

“Sheriff!” Poppernak’s voice boomed from outside as the door burst open, deputies swarming in.

Beau sank to his knees, the edges of his vision blurring. The deputies subdued the man as Poppernak rushed to his side, pressing a hand against the wound to stem the bleeding.

“Stay with me, Sheriff,” Poppernak said, his voice shaking. “Ambulance is on the way.”

Beau tried to respond, but his head felt heavy, his thoughts slipping away like sand through his fingers. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was the faint glow of his phone on the floor, Y/N’s message still lighting the screen.

The bathroom was silent except for the faint drip of the faucet. Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub, her hands gripping the counter where the small plastic test lay face down. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach twisting into knots.

“Just a few more minutes,” she whispered to herself, though the seconds felt endless. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind racing with every possible outcome. She hadn’t even let herself think it could be real—not until now.

When the timer on her phone buzzed, she jumped, the sharp sound cutting through the tense quiet. Taking a shaky breath, she reached for the test. Her hand trembled as she flipped it over.

Two lines.

Y/N stared at it, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes.

Positive.

She was pregnant.

Her breath hitched, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to contain the sob that threatened to escape. Her mind reeled. She wasn’t ready for this—not now, not when her relationship with Beau was still so new. Only a few months. What would he think? What would he say? Would he even want this?

She hugged her knees to her chest, tears spilling over as the panic rose. Eliza was already a handful; how could she manage another baby? And Beau—he’d been amazing, but would this scare him away? Her chest tightened at the thought of losing him.

As she sat there, overwhelmed and struggling to breathe, her phone buzzed on the counter. At first, she ignored it, too caught up in her spiral. But it buzzed again, and something about the persistent vibration made her reach for it.

Unknown number. She almost didn’t answer it. But something inside her told her to answer.

Frowning, she swiped to answer. “Hello?” she managed, her voice shaky.

“Y/N, my name is Jenny Hoyt. I’m one of the deputies of Big Sky,” Jenny’s voice came through, tense and clipped. “It’s Beau.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. “What happened?” she whispered, fear clawing at her throat.

“He’s been shot,” Jenny said, her words heavy. “Domestic call turned bad. He’s at the hospital now. It’s serious.”

Y/N’s breath caught, the world tilting around her. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is he… is he okay?”

“They’ve got him in surgery,” Jenny said, her voice softening. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“I—I’ll be there,” Y/N stammered, already standing. She wiped at her face, trying to pull herself together as her thoughts scrambled. “Which hospital?”

“Big Sky General,” Jenny said. “Take your time, but… you should come soon.”

Y/N nodded, even though Jenny couldn’t see her. “Thank you,” she whispered before hanging up.

Her legs felt like jelly as she grabbed her daughter, blatantly disturbing the little girl’s sleep, her keys, the diaper bag, and her purse, her mind a whirlwind of fear and worry. She made an urgent phone call to her parents’ in Billings, begging her mother for help. It’d be several hours, but better several hours than keeping a fussy, potentially sickly child in the hospital for God knows who how long.

Thankfully, her mother was more than understanding and would be there as soon as she could. Y/N stifled a sob as she drove the way to Big Sky General.

The pregnancy test lay forgotten on the counter, its stark lines a reminder of the new life growing inside her—a life she hadn’t even begun to process.

As she drove to the hospital, her hands gripping the wheel tightly, one thought kept repeating in her mind: Beau had to be okay. For Eliza, for her. For the future she hadn’t dared to dream of until now.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

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[waywardxwords]

The Fix - Epilogue

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Slight language, nothing serious. Fluff!

“Mama! Emily said she’d help me build a snowman. Can I go?” Bailey tugged on her mittens and her winter hat, knowing your instructions before braving the bitter air. 

A small laugh tumbled through your lips as you nodded. “Hold on, let me zip you up,” you set down your mug of tea and knelt in front of her before you grasped the metal zipper. “You remember the rules?” You prompted her. 

“Stay close where you can see,” she recited with a proud grin. 

“Good,” you kissed her cheek and nodded towards the door with approval. She bolted past you with a quick, ‘Thanks, Mama!’ over her shoulder. 

You pulled yourself back to your feet and reached for your own winter coat. After you were prepared for the bitter December wind, you grabbed your mug and headed out to the porch to greet Beau as he walked up the path. 

He ruffled Bailey’s hat a bit as she hurried past, but stopped her to straighten it out so it would cover her ears. 

“Hey, handsome,” you chimed from the front door. His gaze found yours and a wide smile pulled across his lips. 

“Hiya, darlin’,” he crooned. 

It had been two months since Jackson had been arrested and made a deal with the FBI. He was still in FBI custody, but that hadn’t brought you much peace. 

Beau had gone out immediately and purchased trail cameras for every corner of your home, and out on the property as well. He had also insisted you practice firearm training (though you had to admit, it was hard at first but you didn’t mind the closeness to Beau that came along with it). 

Beau ended up crashing at your house nine times out of ten. He said it was safer, and he wouldn’t sleep well if he wasn’t there. You thought back to the first night Beau ended up in your bed. 

“It’s late, darlin’,” Beau had glanced at the watch on his wrist as he stifled a yawn. His eyes were hazy and reddened. 

Your teeth found the inside of your bottom lip as you processed the thoughts that drifted through your brain. “I know, I just like talking to you.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. “I like talkin’ to you, too. But we both need sleep.” He had stood and started to gather the pillows and blankets you had grabbed for his make-shift bed on your sofa. 

“You can’t possibly get good sleep out here on the couch,” you toyed with the idea—it was like putting out a bone and seeing if he would take it. His eyes landed on you and he watched you closely. 

“Do you have a guest bedroom you haven’t told me about?” Damn, he was really going to make you work for it. Heat had risen in your cheeks and you stumbled over some ‘uh's’ and there was an ‘um’ in there, somewhere. Beau chuckled again. “Are you askin’ me to sleep in your bed, darlin’?” The gruffness of his voice made your entire body shiver. 

After a brief pause, your voice was almost a whisper. “Would you want to sleep in my bed, Beau?”

A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “I’d like that, if you’d like that, too,” his tone matched yours. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about, darlin’?” Beau’s drawl interrupted your memories as you both sat in rocking chairs watching your daughters build a snowman. Your eyes found his and you smiled. 

“Just how we’ve gotten here. If you had told me this would be my life two months ago, I wouldn’t have believed you,” the cold air stung your eyes as tears had formed. With a glove covered hand, you quickly reached up to push them away. 

Beau had somehow gotten used to your emotions, but he still watched you carefully. “Are you happy? With life, and how things are, I mean?” He asked carefully. 

“Beau Arlen, you should absolutely know the answer to that,” you reached out to brush the side of his face. “I have truly never been happier.” You paused as he reached out to hold your hand in his. “Are you happy? I know we were kinda thrown into this world we’re living in…it’s not necessarily something you signed up for.”

He leaned towards you and you felt his lips against yours. “Darlin’,” he breathed. “I would sign up for this life with you and Bailey every day over again.” You kissed him once more. Beau pulled back for a moment and shuffled through his coat pocket as you heard the buzz from his vibrating cell phone. “One sec, sweetheart.” He pushed the phone to his ear as he answered. “Sheriff Arlen,” he said–the sweetness to his tone dissipated. 

In the two months you had been with Beau, you found it hard to ignore his work calls. Most of the time he got a call to assist with a car accident, or maybe a wellness check on an elderly neighbor. But you could never be certain–you always held your breath in case he got the call; the one where you would find out that Jackson was being released.

Beau stood from his spot on the rocking chair and began to pace, that was your first sign that this was a more serious call. And then his eyes landed on you. When he realized you were studying him, he looked away almost instantly. This call was most certainly about you–or about Jackson, rather.

“Alright, that’s good,” he spoke carefully as he paced. “What’s that mean for…for uh, for the victims?” His eyes wanted to look at you but he couldn’t just yet. You tried to stay calmly seated on the rocking chair, but no longer could. You stood to your feet and glanced back at Emily and Bailey, as if looking away for a second would bring harm to one of them. After a much longer pause than you thought necessary, Beau’s feet stopped pacing and he stood with his back to you. “You’re kiddin’ me,” he breathed. You couldn’t tell yet if that was good or bad–you assumed bad. “Well, damn.” His breath fogged around him and there was a slight chuckle to his words and tone. A chuckle? You wanted to scream out and ask him what that meant, but you knew you had to be calm.

He turned back to look at you again, this time a wide smile on his lips. “Ya know what, Matt Donahue?” Beau’s grin practically touched his ears, and now you had confirmation this call was about your case, as Matt was the FBI agent working it. “You’re not a son-of-a-bitch after all…” he trailed off with a laugh as he stepped towards you. The phone was still pressed to his ear as he listened. “Yeah, yeah, I hope I never see you again, too.” He laughed. “But hey, thanks…thanks a lot.”

He pulled the phone away and ended the call.

“My heart feels like it’s about to explode, please tell me what’s happening,” you breathed as Beau gripped your hands in his just as he stood before you.

“They caught the last drug boss, he’s in the FBI’s custody as we speak,” Beau started. You wanted to urge him to continue.

“So Jackson gets released?” Your heart had already sunk down the confines of your rib cage and into the pit of your stomach; you couldn’t understand how Beau was excited about this.

Beau shook his head from side to side, a gleam of happiness in his eyes. “When the FBI made this deal with Jackson, they had only charged him with kidnapping, felony gun possession and drug trafficking. They didn’t charge him with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer.” He began to explain. You weren’t following. “So the deal was only good for the charges he faced at the time. And just now, the DA charged him with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. He can’t make a deal on that.” 

Beau waited a minute for it to set in. “So…he’s not getting released?” The words were soft but he heard them.

“He’s not gettin’ released,” Beau confirmed with a smile. You blinked as you processed. “It’s a little bit of a shady practice, but for once, I don’t feel bad about it. We’ll get to prosecute him here in Big Sky. We can’t bring up anything he made a deal on, but attempted on a LEO is a big deal. Dependin’ on if they can charge him with first or second, we’re lookin’ at a minimum of thirty years in prison, sweetheart.”

It felt like you might fall over as your knees weakened. Beau seemed to recognize that as he led you back to the rocking chair. After blinking a few more times, your gaze found Emily and Bailey laughing in the snow as they tied a scarf just below their snowman’s head. The feeling of Beau’s calloused fingertips on your cheek brought you back into the moment.

“Hey,” he breathed with a smile, and for a second, you thought you saw his eyes glaze over. “He’s never gonna hurt you again. He’s never gonna be near Bailey again. This seals it.”

You finally managed to speak. “I, uh, I guess you can go home now.” You laughed half-heartedly as you sniffled–partially from the cold but mostly from the emotion that had overcome you at that point.

“I’d really like to be here, with you and Bailey. If that’s alright with you…” his voice warmed your chest as he spoke, but all you could muster was a nod to refrain from sobbing.

Beau pulled you tightly to his chest and you held on as if your life depended on it; and in that moment, it felt like it did.

That night, after Bailey had gone to bed, Beau had turned on the radio to an old FM station that played smooth jazz and alternative rock, two sounds that neither of you hardly ever listened to. But when the soft piano started to play, he held his hand out for you to take.

You couldn’t help but laugh–while you hadn’t shared the reason for your excitement with Bailey or Emily, the two of you had relished in the feeling together. You could see it in the way you looked at each other all night over dinner, or the way Beau had built a pillow fort with Bailey after Emily headed out to meet a friend at the movie theater, and in the way he had pulled you to him before you put Bailey to bed and kissed you like everything was right in the world.

And now you felt it in the way his left hand held your right, and his other hand found the small of your back. Your head moved to his shoulder and found comfort in the crook of his neck as the two of you slow-danced in the middle of your kitchen to the soft sounds you finally recognized as Coldplay.

“Coldplay? Really?” You practically snorted as you pulled your head from his shoulder.

“Shh,” he hushed you playfully. “It’s a good song, alright?”

“Mr. Arlen, I didn’t think you listened to anything that didn’t have a banjo in the background–or foreground, for that matter,” you laughed. You had done a lot of that this evening–laugh, that is. 

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled. “You gonna let me spin you around this kitchen? I can always put somethin’ with a banjo on…” he threatened.

“No, no,” you quickly hushed with a giggle. “I’ll shut up…”

He returned his focus to spinning you around the kitchen, just as promised. Every time he pulled you back to his chest, his lips left a gentle kiss on your hairline.

You couldn’t help but watch him as you listened to the lyrics. Before you could be too overcome with emotion, your lips found his. When you had met Beau Arlen, you were two partially broken people. And somehow, someway–you had managed to put yourselves back together, and you were grateful for this new beginning.

Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you.

AHH, okay - so - I apologize. I realize it is not Wednesday, lol. I really, really struggled with this epilogue. I actually ended up wiping the entire thing on Wednesday and re-writing it because I just wasn't happy with it. I hope this wraps everything up nicely with a pretty bow for you.

I really struggled with the whole "let's be sneaky and screw Jackson on a deal" thing, because honesty and integrity are really important to me. But then I remembered how shitty of a human Jackson is (as a reminder: he beat his wife on the regular, he was trafficking drugs that kill people every day, he shot MO [one of the most beloved deputies with a kind heart and soul], kidnapped his kid, held Beau and his ex-wife at gun point, etc.) and decided to run with it. I hope you don't hate it?

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all of you for reading, reblogging, liking and commenting on this series. It has really brought me so much joy to read what you all think and over the last month or so. While this is the end of the series, I hope to come back with some one shots associated with these characters in the future.

And with that, this series is COMPLETE!

*Song is "Fix You" by Coldplay

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @zepskies @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @djs8891 @globetrotter28 @deans-baby-momma @k-slla @agentorange9595 @dragonfly92 @nancymcl @springsteeen @perpetualabsurdity @deanwinchestersgirl87 @mimi-luvzyu @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @ultimatecin73 @spnfamily-j2 @impalaspixie @daughterofcain-67 @lacilou @jasminewinter140 @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2 @rizlowwritessortof @marimarvelfan @jc-winchester @taylortot @siampie1990 @thewritersaddictions @raisinggray @tabsluvsu @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @nyotamalfoy @ades106 @akshi8278 @fanfic-n-tabulous @officialnighttime @so-get-this-sammy @malindacath

[ebrofour]

How long did you see Emily in the casino game for?

"Why I never saw Emily in a Casino. Who's askin?" -Ebro4

[all-time-sleepy]

//another Emily fan art

//she trippin balls askin for that gn kiss

[oneshotnewbie]

hiya! are u gonna post any cm fics soon? i think a while back u said u had two waiting 2 be posted and ive been so eager to read 1 lol but i was js hoping u r gonna have 1 out soon i hope i dont sound rude or anything by me askin! ❣️

Authors note: Comes in two parts because I wrote too much again, sorry! ♥ The second part is coming out this evening because I have to go to university now and I'm already late anyway.

Summary: You never thought you'd end up with the person you've had feelings for since day one. But it happened, and in that time, you learned more about yourself than you had in all your years on Earth. She swore to you that from now on she would always be by your side, but as fate would have it, it took her away from you and instead of a wedding, there was only a funeral service.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sound of the wind rattling against the window of your cold bedroom had jolted you out of your thoughts. A short gust of wind passed through the small room in your apartment, the door of which was opened briefly and let you froze, a cold shiver pattering down your back.

With your eyes closed, you listened to the howling and whistling- it was not uncomfortable and you had gotten used to it in the last few lonely weeks. The apartment no longer felt like home during these several long and painful days.

You cocked your head to the side, your gaze wandering to the figure standing tightly in the doorway, not moving an inch from their firm stand. You were sure, through your teary vision, that it was JJ; she had promised that she would come to you earlier and would be with you so that you were not alone.

Sighing, you turned back to the window, staring out at the gray and overcast weather; appropriate for this day. Morgan and Garcia would definitely show up soon, too. You smiled at the thought of the blonde urging Morgan to get up earlier than necessary-if they could get any sleep at all but it passed quickly as your thoughts fell back to your murdered fiancee.

"So this is how it ends, huh?" you whispered, your voice thick from the many tears that you had last cried into the pillow. "You fall in love, do not think you will ever get together with that person but it happens and then they are just..gone? Just ripped out of your heart and life like that?" you snapped your fingers to reinforce your statement, more tears welling up in your eyes.

The blonde moved a little closer to you, her arms wrapped gently around your waist while her head lolled on your shoulder. JJ´s hand sauntered down your arm to your hand, her fingers dancing on the back of your hand before your fingers tangled and she gripped it tightly. Tears streamed down your thin face and you pressed your lips together to stifle a sob.

"Sometimes, it is the course of life" she said quietly and pulled you with her onto the nearby bed, holding you comfortingly in her arms and catching your tears as they fell, wordless and unhindered.

Jennifer knew you had more to deal with than she or any of Emily Prentiss´s friends. Today, however, would take you a first step in the right direction to process what happened and to accept the grief. She was happy that you were willing to put the past to rest and process the loss of your fiancee by attempting her funeral.

After last meeting you, you had been going through a rough time. Closing yourself off from the team and her, even quitting your job. It was almost unbearable for the blonde to see you so devastated and desperate with no doubt certain that you would not set a foot into the graveyard.

She knew how you felt, having already buried many of her own people, and yet she was glad to think that she could catch you when you fell after her best friends death, just like JJ promised the raven haired woman before her passing.

The clouds hung darker and lower in the sky than they were a few minutes ago, largely reflecting your mood and emotions. Jennifer slowly turned her head to look at your sunken and sallow face, then sighed. "Are you ready?"

"I will never be ready for that, so we should just do it" JJ nodded in agreement. She knew you were right, could imagine how difficult this was for you. But she was sure that you would make up your mind afterwards and would feel better, relieved.

You would be able to wrap up, process your grief, after several long weeks of missing her. And you would always have a place to go whenever you felt like talking to her.

Grabbing the blondes hand tightly and squeezing it briefly, you both stood up at the same time and left the small room. Downstairs, everyone of your team already waited for you. The whole team was looking at you expectantly, Penelope already stretching her arms out to you in an uncertain gesture.

Clearing your throat, you broke away from the blonde and took a deep breath before falling into her arms. "My Sugarplum," gentle kisses graced your cheek while warm arms wrapped around you tightly, finger faintly drawing traces on your back. "Thank you for being here, I-"

Garcia gently placed a finger on your dry lips and shook her head; you did not have to keep talking, it was natural for everyone to support you. With a nod in understanding of her gesture, she solicitous wrapped an arm around your waist while JJ´s fingers interlaced with yours once again.

[smallishimps]

ya need any help with emily? i remember ya askin'

☆ striker

ignore my main acc please-

ummms....Papa foun out...ans she wunned offf...

I canns fin hewr!!!!!!!

[probsnothawkeye]

The grotto server got me writing small fics again so woe! Grotto/woe.begone crossover be upon ye

Matt knew that he shouldn't go back to the caves. He knew that. His body was wrecked, his finger was missing, he was lying to David–

“Woah there, pard,” a voice, gruff and low and accented, one he didn't recognize, said suddenly. “Take some deep breaths for me, alright? That's it, pilgrim, just match my breathing.” Matt opened his eyes– when had he closed them again?– to see a man in a cowboy hat standing beside his bed. The confusion must have been evident on his face, as the man just gave a small chuckle. “The name's Michael. I'm going to be helping with your physical therapy.”

“Are you really a cowboy?” Matt found himself blurting out, not wanting to focus on the pain in his body or heart so focusing on the cowboy hat instead. “I feel like this is one of those things you have to disclose. Otherwise it's entrapment. Cowboy entrapment.”

Michael let out another laugh. “Do you reckon I'd be wearin’ the hat if I weren't a cowboy?”

“It could be very dedicated cosplay.”

“I think we'll get along just fine, pard. Now come on, I'm gonna be teaching you some stretches today which should help with some of the soreness that I'm sure being cooped up in here has caused.”

That was how it started. Every week, Matt would have a physical therapy appointment with Michael– the man somehow maintaining his cowboy hat even when doing stretches lying down. Michael was… Matt wasn't really sure what Michael was, but the stretches were helping and he was starting to get used to the missing finger.

“So what happened to it anyway?” Michael asked one day, gesturing at Matt's hand. “And don't try to give me the same story you told the docs. I ain't enough of a fool to let you convince me that this was the result of you getting jumped.”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you what happened,” Matt said, feeling like the most cliche of characters in a movie but not even caring. Michael *wouldn't* believe him; how could anyone believe that Matt cut off his finger because he thought it would appease the supernatural beings in the Grotto and let him speak to Emily? The only thing that could come from this would be Michael getting Matt hospitalized *again* and Matt didn't want to go back to the hospital.

“You'd be surprised what I can believe, pard. I promise I won't go runnin’ to the docs, I ain't a narc. I just wanna help, Matt. Whatever way I can.”

Something about his words had Matt spilling his guts, the same way he did to the person in the cave.

“So you cut off your finger to try an’ talk to her again?”

“Yeah.”

“Did it work?”

“...No.” It was hard for Matt to admit that, hard for him to accept that he had done himself bodily harm and for *what*? He didn't even get to talk to Emily. All he did was lose a finger and terrify David.

“If’n you don't mind me askin’, why the ring finger?” Michael asked, pulling Matt out of his mind.

“I'm hardly gonna need it anyway. The only one I could see myself marrying was her and… And she's gone.”

Michael hummed thoughtfully at that. “Well, pard, the way I see it you've got yourself two options. You can continue wallowing’ in misery an’ refuse to move forward with your life. This will likely lead to you dead in a ditch– or a cave, given your track record– before the year is out. An’ you might think that's the option to take, might think that nobody’d miss you anyhow. But I've seen that boy who drops you off an’ I can tell you for a fact he'd miss you. And he leads me to option two: let the people in your life help you so you can move on. I ain't sayin’ you need to forget Emily, but you don't need to die for her just cos she’s dead. Don't you think she'd rather you live for her instead?”

For the first time in a long time, Matt thought about his future. It felt like it had slipped away with Emily and Michael was right, Matt was diving head first into an early grave just because she was gone. But she wouldn't want that for him. If she had been the one who lived, she'd be doing things to get her life back on track, not almost getting herself killed in caves. She'd let him go, not because she didn't love him but because she loved him enough to keep living.

And he could do that too.

“Does all this wisdom come with the hat or did you stumble upon it yourself?”

“I've been around more kinds of scenarios than you'd imagine, pard,” Michael said, patting Matt on the back. “I've made it out alive an’ you can too.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, catching sight of David in the waiting room through the small window on the door. “Yeah, I can too.”

[dontsh0vethesun]

I just wanna say that one thing I love about emily is how she's always freaking tits out, like yes girl give us the lowest neckline you can find, give us all the boobs 🤲🏻

fr we’re all like oliver twist askin for more boob

🤲

plz em give more boob

[talesofourworlds]

"Oh, sure," Raven answered. "We gotta know how ta protect ourselves if we're wanderin' around Terca Lumireis." Usually he did so unaccompanied anyway, unless he was tasked on going on a special mission from the Don. Or even from Alexei. It depended on which 'hat' he was wearing for the day.

"I mean, it's either fendin' or yerself or askin' a guild ta help ya out. I know most folks don't look too kindly on guild folk, though," he said. Not him. He was welcoming of guild types without question because he was one. However, he still hadn't told Emily that part about himself. He didn't know how she felt about guild people just yet. It was better to play it safe until he did. Hence the continuation of the vagabond identity. Better to let Emily believe he just traveled around and didn't have ties to any particular group.

The smirk coupled with the reminder of the lost map could have called for dramatics, but Raven decided to leave it alone. He just laughed a little. He could do much worse things than that, but in this instance? When he didn't want to cause problems on purpose? It was better not to.

"You can say that again," Raven answered. "Trust me. We're gonna be just fine even without a map. I'm actually startin' ta recognize some'a the terrain." He'd been in this forested area before. He continued to walk ahead, looking for a spot to set up camp whenever they needed it. It still was pretty light out, but the sooner they had a base the better. Just in case.

"But hey. Don't you worry 'bout bein' a burden. You're anything but that."

"I mean, I have dresses with only one layer, but I'm pretty sure being spared of embarrassment of it being torn and showing more than I'm comfortable with is better for me. Especially since the gear is comfortable." She did have a small knife on her. Her father was once a knight, she knew how to fight but she never got a blastia. So the most it would do is help her defend until she could run.

"I take it that's a part of being a wandering Vagabond?" She asked in reference to him boasting about his know-how. She had to admit, if she were with any knight that wasn't Cumore, Schwann or Flynn she would figure she's screwed. But those were also the only knights she really was even aware of.

"Well, hopefully, we don't get a dozen to fend off. I don't want to feel like a burden for you." She also didn't want him to get too tired. If his stamina was shot then that was bad. Very bad. Though she smiled softly when he asked if she was having fun.

"I am actually. Sure you lost the map, but hey if that's the worst thing you do, then all is well that ends well yes?" She asked with a smirk.

[bergoozter]

cue the existential crisis

[cilginfizikcilervbi]

Bilim Kadını Emily ile Aşk Üzerine

Bilim Kadını Emily ile Aşk Üzerine

Bilim Kadını Emily ile Aşk Üzerine

İnsanoğlunun varoluşundan beri, aşk hep bir problemdir. Aşk nedir Emily?

Bu soruyu sorduğum da, uzaklara doğru dalarak gülümsüyor. Ah çocuğum, diye başladığı sözlerine, kendinden gayet emin bir ses tonuyla, ” Gerçeği duymak, çoğu insanın işine gelmeyecektir. Aşk, öyle ilk bakışta yakalanacak, kimya ile yoğrulmuş bir şey değildir. O ilk bakışta yakalanan cinsel…

[dyrwoodan]

would y’all be mad if i made another dh oc though

[shit-villagers-say]

i still have 45 minutes at work but I just wanna play my time at Portia

[cadiacore]

26, 36, 58

26: I’m craving oreo cheesecake so bad 🥺😂

36: honestly if you you hurt me enough then no I don’t give out second chances easily but if it’s something minor than I do.

58: I love rainy and windy days. I love when the temperature is around 60 degrees or 65 ❤️ that’s the perfect cozy weather for me.

[sapphicsinthecloset]

Any tips on going to speed dating? I've never been on a date ever and I'm going to a queer women's speed dating event and any advice is welcome.

Just have a list of your hobbies and interests listed in your head. Think of fun stuff you can talk about about yourself and whatnot. Really all speed dating is is rapid fire conversations trying to find people with similar interests and personalities.

On the receiving end, try to stay open minded. Don’t go into it thinking like “I hope there’s someone here who likes __________”. Just let people win you over and don’t tie yourself down with expectations.

Other than that, just have fun! Get a cute gal’s number!