#but then how could I leave beau outta this

[knightcallie]

Baldur's Bounties: His Family

Weichei was not a hot single in their area! Maybe he should tell the marriage schemes during bounty hunting later...

The party learning that Weichei actually was married was, a whole thing. It kind of made Weichei laugh, maybe a little shy. Yes, he had two husbands, one had passed away. Did he marry rather young by elven standards? Yes, perhaps, but that didn’t matter.

Temerity, his childhood best friend and his first romance. An albino tiefling, from rags to riches, he’s become Fenim’s brightest rockstar in the music industry. They grew up together, and despite everything, they still stayed connected. Temerity was loud, rambunctious, never to be quiet ever again. He vowed to never be an untold story, an unsung melody. Sure, maybe he has a loose filter, but he always cared and loved strongly for those he held close. He did, always for Cheri. He loved the drow intensely, never letting him forget that he was loved.

Beau was the bassist cellist of the band Temerity formed. He currently was still alive, a strong stoic wood elf (autumn eladrin ancestry). He was a gentle lover, having fallen in love with the drow for just how passionate and adorable he was. He had originally wanted Weichei and Temerity to marry first, he can come later. Though, that was dashed considering they both ended up planning a ring and had part of it commissioned. He loved them both to pieces, caring for them and feeding them both well.

Weichei had even made marriage beads to wear himself, as that was what his Vaddy did for him and Mumu. Temerity’s a glass bead swirled with red and white with a strip of gold in the middle, while Beau’s was a dark oak bead with tiny green oak leaves carved the middle. Rings were a common marriage custom, but down in Fenim’s Underdark, creating hair accessories for their intended was the way to go for the drows.  

The poly had four children. The first were the twins, Melian and Belamour. Both meaning some form of love, so they would never forget they were loved. Melian took more of the tiefling traits, her lavender skin a mix of Temerity and Weichei. She took up the drow’s love of artificing, growing the gadget empire. Belamour took more of the elven traits, her dark drow skin taking a more warm green tone. Though, they did find teeny tiny horns hiding in her curls. She took on Temerity’s and Beau’s profession, leading her own band called The Unsung.

The last two came a little later. There’s this runaway, a human forcibly turned into a tiefling. Archdevil Levistus wanted to finally break free and take over the Nine Hells for himself. They had found Niven when he was partially transformed, where his skin still partially showed his light medium tone before it was engulfed in ice blue and icicles. His legs turned hooven like a goat, eyes pitch black. A crown of horns were still rather small when they found him, afraid and defensive and ice cold. (It reminded Weichei so much of Temerity, back when they were children.) It took so much time and patience and kindness, and perhaps still too clingy for his age. But after what they went through together, it was understandable. (Sometimes, Weichei could still hear the shattering of the ice when he put a hole in that archdevil).

Finally, Raihin, who looked far more like Beau than the others. Her skin was warm, her eyes a kinder red that could be mistaken as brown. Her hair was looser and nearly white like Temerity’s, her bark horns standing tall like a beacon. She’s a stepping stone for those making the journey back to Paeon, to the Oak Father. She was the warm welcome, caring for those who desired rest for just a moment. The three daughters had spouses, children (blood-related or not) of their own, and Weichei sometimes looks through the memories of them in the pocket mirror. Niven only recently began a platonic relationship, still learning and understanding.

Going through the pictures, showing the group each and every one had Weichei’s heart aching. Oh how he wished he could tell his family that he was doing okay, albeit with a little passenger at the moment. Oh how he wished he could contact the Trades about what’s happened in the last few months. He had people awaiting him back home, people who held him in their person.

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Three

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Language, angst.

W/C: 1,644

Ben turned to exit your room, leaving you standing like a moron, stuck on what to do. Fuck! Your ex always said you were shit with making tough choices. Said you always looked like you were forever stuck in a damn action, like a mannequin. He always saw the pain in your face as you struggled to decide. He’d clap his hands in front of you, and you’d look at him in annoyance. Then he’d choose for you, and that voice in your head would chime up.

Inadequate.

Useless.

Can’t even make a single decision for yourself.

Well, it wasn’t true, and you could. You pushed yourself. If you followed after Ben, you’d just have to get the box again. But if Ben left…No, the door was locked. Unless he broke the lock. Would he? Fuck!

Your clenched and unclenched your fists. Your heart raced in your chest, your body heating as you continued to struggle.

“Wait!”

Your voice sounded so strangled, so strained. From outside your hallway, you heard a huff. That seemed to snap you out of your mannequin state.

You rushed back up the chair and reached to grab the box, and once it was in your grip, you jumped down from the chair and ran out. Ben was making his way down your stairs.

You followed him as he headed into the living room. He bent to retrieve his shield. You shoved the box in Dean’s hands and hurried to pick the DVDs from your shelf. The Supernatural box set almost knocked the wind outta your chest as it fell into your grasp. You grabbed The Boys and Big Sky and dumped the sets on your coffee table. Ben had turned around at this point and was looking at your display with his signature look of disgust.

“The fuck is that?”

“I tried to tell you. You’re fictional.”

“What?”

You let your words sink in. Turning to Dean and Beau, you rubbed your forehead. This was not how you wanted them to find out, but Ben had forced your hand. You hadn’t planned on a way to tell them, it wouldn’t have been like this. You would have softened the blow.

You paced in the limited area.

His brow furrowed, deepening, his lip curled, he snarled. He picked up the DVD set with Butcher’s face on the cover.

“I knew I had to tell you. Not like this but— but shit…this world, my world. It’s the real world. And the same man plays each of you. Look.” You slipped your phone from your sweater pocket. Your hands trembled as you typed the name in, and then you passed the phone to Dean. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened, only to close a moment later. His head tilted to one side as he took in the information. There were those damn butterflies in your stomach again.

“It’s like that time Balthazar sent me to that alternate dimension.”

“Yeah, except this time, you’re not Jensen. Jensen is an actor who plays a character on screen. God, this makes no sense.”

Yeah, it made no sense. It was fucking insane. Jensen played Dean, Beau, and Ben. They shouldn’t even exist. Yet somehow, they were here.

“This ain’t makin’ a lick of sense, darlin’. You’re sayin’ we’re not real. None of us? Except you?”

“Exactly.”

“Yet, somehow, thanks to a picture frame, we are.”

You nodded.

Ben’s gruff pants pulled your attention to him. He had his fists tightly clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, and his chest heaved as he huffed breaths in and out. For someone so tough and brave, seeing him like this killed you.

Your hand reached out to comfort him. His eyes snapped open and shot you a glare. You pulled your hand back in fright.

“Fuck you. I’m real!” He spat and stormed off.

Your first instinct was to follow him. To smooth things over. Apologise.

“Ben!”

As you stepped towards the hallway, a hand rested on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“Let him go, darlin’,” Beau said softly.

You watched Ben’s hulking frame leave your sight. Shaking your head, you turned to Beau. Dean was inspecting the box the frame came in.

“I can’t. He could break something. He could hurt himself.”

“Give him space to process.”

You pressed your lips together, grimacing, not fully agreeing with the Texan. Your eyes darted towards the hallway. God knows how he was feeling. Or what he was even thinking.

“You go in there, you’re just gonna make everything a million times worse. He needs space.” Dean said a matter-of-factly, looking at you momentarily.

You stood there, hand on a hip, chewing your bottom lip, finger twirling and tugging absentmindedly on the hair at the nape of your neck.

“You don’t know what he’s like.”

“And you think you do? Because you’ve seen him on TV.” Dean asked pointedly.

Wow.

Hurt flashed across your face. The air whooshed from your lungs as your mouth fell open.

Right here. Was reality. His words stung. Sure, they’d never affected you before. But that was because you were never on the receiving end. Reality struck. What the fuck did you think was gonna happen? That he would fall madly in love with you and live happily ever after?

You heaved in breaths as you stared at him. His words rang in your head over and over. Your ex’s voice collided – “You don’t know anything!” – making Dean’s jibe that little bit more painful. You felt your throat constrict painfully. You strengthened your resolve. There was no way you were crying in front of Dean or Beau.

“What the fuck do you know? You’ve barely been here ten seconds, and suddenly you think you know everything?”

You lashed out and stormed off, stomping up the stairs like a child having a tantrum. You slammed your bedroom door, huffing and puffing, pacing, fingers rubbing your temples. Fuck. A year after the divorce, your ex was still inside your head, finding ways to assert his control. And you were no better, throwing your ex’s words right back at Dean. Dean didn’t deserve it, of course. He had only been trying to help, and you’d gone and made it worse.

It was time to face the facts. You always made things worse. Everything you touched turned to shit.

You slumped on your bed, gripped your pillow, and stuffed your face into it. You screamed, releasing all your pent up anger and frustrations. The initial release felt cathartic as hell, but on the third, it just felt pathetic.

They were right. What the hell did you know? You didn’t. He was just a damn character off a dumb TV show. A show you took way too much of your time, consuming. Just to escape reality. It didn’t mean a damn thing.

You didn’t know Ben.

You didn’t know Dean.

Shit, you didn’t even know yourself half the time.

You brought your knees up, hugged them and sobbed. Great big chest heaving ugly sobs, clutching the pillow. Your mother was right. At thirty-six, you were a divorced loser with nothing to call your own except your dead dad’s house and a black cat.

Perhaps you were just being overly sensitive, melodramatic, or self-pitying, but the truth was the truth.

You mourned the breakup of your marriage, your dad, and your sad, pathetic existence. Fuck, you wished your dad was here. He always knew the right thing to say. He’d wipe your tears and tell you it would be if it was meant to be. He’d kiss your forehead, stroke your hair and then he’d tell you a corny joke only dads find funny, like – How do you get a country girl’s attention? A tractor.

You smiled and chuckled a little. He always knew how to cheer you up.

A soft knock roused you from your reverie, and you sniffed, wiping your tears from your cheeks, and eyes.

“Hey, you in here?”

“Yeah.” You called out, sounding so small.

The door opened, and Beau stepped in. He eased himself down beside you.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head.

“Talking does nothing.”

“Oh, I dunno ‘bout that. In my experience, talking does a world of good. So does a punch list. And breathing exercises.”

“Yeah, I know. You got Musk on there.”

Beau smiled and nudged you with his arm.

“So, come on, what’s really going on? I may not know you, but I can see there’s more inside than you’re letting on.”

You stared at the pillow in your hands. It had soaked up your tears. Soaked up your screams. Now, it was going to soak up your fears.

What to say? Your throat felt painful and tight, like something constricting your airways. You swallowed thickly, hands tightening their grip on the pillow.

“Last year, I got divorced. I’m thirty-six with no kids and a broken marriage. That’s my legacy.”

Beau shook his head.

“Hell no. That’s not your legacy. You’ve got plenty of life still left in you. There’s still plenty of time.”

He spoke kindly, softly.

“Divorces suck. I should know, and it’s only been a year. You’re still grieving. It’s natural. Your fears will only manifest if you let them. Don’t listen to the naysayers. Ignore them. They only feed into them. You’ve come this far. You’ve got so much further to go, and you know what? It gets easier. You just gotta take one day at a time.”

You smiled faintly, and he pulled you in a side hug. You said your thanks, and he smiled warmly.

“Come on, darlin’, let’s get back down there. Gotta check on Grumpy Captain America in the kitchen.”

You snorted and placed your pillow back on the bed. It seemed that he, too, possessed the ability to cheer you up, just like your dad used to.

Tags:

@deans-spinster-witch, @curlycarley

[hattafan2593]

For @mpsansy

A follow up to this:

“Spooky? Where are ya? Please come out.”

Pearl searched the room for her wayward boyfriend. She didn’t really understand exactly what he was shouting about earlier, but even she could see how distraught Spooky was. She had to make sure he was okay.

She came upon a trunk with a familiar looking hat sitting on top.

“Go ‘way.”

Pearl gingerly picked up the derby. “Spooky’s hat? Have ya seen where Spooky went?”

“I ain’t in th’ mood, Poil. Jest leave me ‘lone.”

Pearl placed the hat down and sat down next to it on the trunk. She stared at her lap for a silent minute.

“…Ya know, I remembah this one time, I got lost in this cave. I’m kinduva ditz, ya see. Spooky had to come find me. This was before we was datin’ fa real.”

Silence from the trunk.

“But the thing is, it was really dark in the cave an’, I’m real scared of th’ dark. Othah ghosts used ya tease me ‘bout it, cuz ya know, ghosts ain’t supposed ta be scareda th’ dark.

“But Spooky di’nt tease me at all. He just held my hand, tellin’ me stories and jokes, and I was jest smilin’ and laughin’. An’ before I knew it, we was outta th’ cave.”

Pearl twirled a strand of her hair nervously. “Spooky can be a real joikface sometimes. He really likes ta put on th’ big tuff guy act. But he’s a real sweet guy deep down. An’ that day, he was there f’r me when I needed him most.” She placed a hand on top of the derby. “An’ now, I’d like ta do th’ same f’r him. Lead him outta th’ cave, if he’d let me. Cuz that’s whatcha do f’r people ya love.”

She turned to look at the derby. “When ya see ‘im, do ya think ya can tell him that, Mr. Spooky Hat?”

Slowly, the hat rose into the air, the owner gradually turning visible underneath it.

Spooky’s normally brilliant gray eyes were tinged with red, and he had dried streaks running down his freckled cheeks.

Pearl wrapped her arms around her beau and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“…Thanks, Poil.”

[avanatural]

That Simple

Part 7

Series summary: Beau goes to Y/N, a new friend of his, for some dating advice. Is the charming new Sheriff gonna get the date that he’s hoping for?  

Pairing: Beau Arlen x female Reader

Category: Fluff, slight angst, implied smut 

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter warnings: Mentions of sex, arguing

A/N: Welcome to part 7! Join Y/N on her exciting journey as she gets to know more people from Beau’s daily life. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Beau tag list? Send me an ask ❤️

Part 6 | Series Masterlist | Beau Arlen Masterlist | Part 8

Main Masterlist

Warm hands met cold sheets. Green eyes pulled themselves open, tired sparkling irises coming to life. His face twisted, brows and lips turning downward upon realizing he was alone.

His legs swung themselves over the bed, the soles of his feet meeting the cool linoleum floor. Beau sat at the edge of the mattress, smiling sleepily to himself as he recalled the previous night. The sex had been amazing. Intimate. Hot. So incredible that he was itching to repeat it.

Too bad he had to be at work in less than an hour.

He pushed himself off of the bed and pulled on his boxers. His naked feet pattered across the floor, guided by the delicious smell of breakfast.

Beau found his girlfriend in the kitchen, standing in front of the cooktop, wearing her little sleep shorts. She was moving her hips to the upbeat tunes that came from the radio. His eyes softened at the sight of her, melting into two puddles of green.

With footsteps light as a feather, he snuck up on her, tongue captured between his teeth. When he was close enough, he surged forward and locked her up in a caging embrace, tugging her back against his body.

She squeaked in surprise, her hands flying up on instinct to touch his arms. Her tensed-up torso relaxed as soon as his deep chuckles rumbled through her ears.

“Beau!”, she scolded, tossing her head back against his bare shoulder, “One of these days, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

His upper arm was draped across her chest, and sure enough, he could feel her heart race against his skin. “Sorry, darlin’,” he apologized with a scruffy kiss to her temple, “Couldn’t resist.”

“I was gonna make your favorite,” she teased, and he peeked over her head, spotting some crispy bacon in a frying pan. “But you’re being really bad this morning, so…”

“Aw, come on. I promise I’ll make up for it.” He squeezed her against his front, grinning into her shampoo-scented hair. Beau loved hugging her. Whenever he had Y/N in his embrace, he felt like she was never going to leave him. Like she was a constant in his life. A constant other than a bad conscience, a recurring nightmare, or a dysfunctional coping mechanism.

“Oh, yeah?” Y/N turned her head, her Y/E/C orbs smiling at him.

“Absolutely. I’ll make it up to you real good,” he spoke in hushed tones, lips swirling flirtatiously, “If…”

The line of hair above her right eye arched, amused. “Oh, there’s a condition?”  

“You gotta get outta my grip,” he breathed, linking the tip of his nose with hers.

“Beau…,” she whined, disconnecting their noses, her head once again meeting his shoulder. “It’s, like, seven in the morning. I can’t remember-“

“’Course you can.” His gravelly voice shot electric bolts through her body, causing her insides to quiver and long for him. “Think back. Rule number one?”, he spoke right into her ear.

Y/N hummed when she thought back to their date at the gym, where he’d taught her the basics of sparring. It had been a damn good date. Fun and practical. It would have been perfect if she hadn’t accidentally hit Beau in the face, which she still felt bad about. “Trust your instincts,” she repeated his number one rule.

He clenched his arms around her, pressing her against his puffed-out chest. “There ya go. Do your thing. You know how.”

“Who says I wanna get away from my attacker, huh?”, she quipped, her lips curving happily as she caressed his freckled forearms with her thumbs. “I’m kind of enjoying this.”

The low, hearty beat of his laugh traveled through her eardrums. “Come on, beautiful. Humor me.”

Y/N complied, taking a breath, then taking action. She tightened her grip on his arms and abruptly bent her knees, dropping her weight, catching him off-balance. She then took a side-step and used the gained space to elbow his abdomen as gently as possible.

“Agh!” Beau removed his arms from around her and pretended to double over in pain. “Please, don’t hurt me, Miss! I surrender!”, he pleaded, stretching his hands into feigned signs of defense.

Y/N was full-on laughing at this point, one palm draped across her stomach, eyes twinkling at the Sheriff’s goofiness.

He slowly straightened his back, lips pulled back to reveal his shiny teeth, pupils dilated. There was no better feeling in the world than making Y/N laugh. The pads of his fingers reached out to gently brush some hair behind her ear. “See? You’re a natural.”

“Now that I freed myself…,” she trailed off, sliding her hand from his collar bone down to the patch of skin covering his golden heart. Her eyebrows curved into two suggestive arcs. “Guess you gotta make that jump scare up to me.”

Beau bowed his head. “At your service, m’lady.” He proceeded to snatch the apron from the hook on the tiled wall. Ready to take over breakfast duty, he planted his bowlegs in front of the stove.

“You know…” Y/N came up behind him, pressing a scorching kiss to his muscled back. “As much as I’d like to see you try on that apron…” Her voice dropped, dripping with want when she continued, “I think I have a better idea.”

Beau’s head tilted, bright green eyes bouncing over his shoulder, yearning to look at her. A hot spark dashed through his body, urging him to explore her suggestion. “That sounds tempting, sweetheart. But we don’t have much time left if we wanna have a proper breakfast,” he resisted weakly, barely holding on by a thread.

“Then let’s see who can finish the other off faster,” she flirted against his skin, batting her lashes at him, her mouth darting across the heated flesh of his shoulder blade.

The small hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A tingling sensation ran down his spine. The thread he was hanging on ripped, leaving him to stumble into a pit of carnal urges. Absentmindedly, he turned off the cooktop. “I like your way of thinking.”

“Come on, then,” Y/N murmured a siren’s song into his ear, taking his hand in hers, making him spin around on his bare feet.

A lopsided, dimpled smirk took over his mouth. “You’re goin’ down.”

“Damn right, I am,” she retorted with a wink, taking a step back, beckoning him to follow.

Beau was close to choking on air. She was so hot, luring him in, moving her pointer finger in a come-hither motion.

Once he recovered from the short circuit in his head, he charged, making her jump. She sprinted out of his grasp, giggling as he chased her to the bedroom for their love competition.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” Poppernak kindly nodded his head as she stepped into the Sheriff’s Office.

Her ruby mouth curled upward as her hand adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Hey, Mo.”

“Did the Sheriff forget something again?”

“Yup. His most prized possession.” Y/N held up Beau’s phone, wriggling it in her hand for emphasis.

The deputy started laughing, shaking his head. “You know, my mom always says that love makes silly. I’m sure Beau would forget his own head at your place if it wasn’t screwed on.”

She chuckled along, her cheeks flushing with a pleasant warmth. Beau wasn’t the only one affected by their love. Y/N herself felt clumsier and more forgetful than ever. Her charming boyfriend occupied her mind non-stop, turning her into a love-sick fool. And she enjoyed every second of it.

At the other end of the Sheriff’s Office, Beau was in the midst of talking to Jenny and Cassie about the missing backpacker case. When he spotted his girl with Poppernak, he arched his neck to get a better look, prompting his colleagues to glance in Y/N’s direction as well.

“Oh my God, I think it’s her,” Jenny mumbled to Cassie, her hands disappearing in the pockets of her blue leather jacket.

“You think?”, Cassie asked, arching her neck, just like the Sheriff.

“Can’t you see the look on Beau’s face?”, Jenny chuckled mischievously.

Beau lowered his head, meeting Hoyt’s gleaming blue eyes with narrowed green ones. When he turned to watch his girlfriend again, she was squeezing Poppernak’s arm and wishing him a nice day.

With a little bounce in her step, Y/N then approached her boyfriend, who was already staring back at her, his chin lifted with an unspoken greeting. “Hi,” she said.

Beau was glad to see her, he always was, but his expression was masked by concern over Cassie’s case. “Hey, darlin’.” He let his arm slither around her waist and introduced her to his colleagues. “This is Y/N.”

With a smile, Y/N extended her hand to Cassie. “Hi.”

“Hey. I’m Cassie. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Y/N then moved on to Jenny, eagerly shaking her hand. “Hi. Y/N.”

“Jenny. So, you’re Beau’s girlfriend?”

Y/N gazed at her partner, her heart going wild in her chest. She’d heard so much about his colleagues, and now she was getting to know them in person. “Yes,” she responded, beaming at Beau.

He smiled back at her, but she caught on to the fact that something wasn’t right. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. She examined his facial expression, trying to figure him out, while he contemplated telling her what was haunting his mind.

Jenny cleared her throat, snapping the couple out of their trance. “You, uh… You work at the hair salon down the street, don’t you?”, she asked Beau’s partner.

“Uh, I own it, actually,” Y/N explained. Looking back and forth between Jenny, Cassie, and Beau, she sensed that she was interrupting something. She decided to make her intentions known and held up her boyfriend’s cell. “You forgot your phone.”

“Ah, perfect, thank you.” Beau took it from her hand, their fingers bumping into each other. “Saved me some time.”

Y/N peeked up at Beau from between her lashes, catching his gaze with her inquisitive eyes. She wanted nothing more than to ask if he was alright. But he was a busy man, and the clock was constantly ticking away his time. “Talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, squeezing her waist before letting go, “Thanks for stoppin’ by.”

Y/N said her goodbyes, took another worried peek at the Sheriff and walked away. 

Beau stared after her, his boot-wrapped feet shifting on the ground, almost making a move to follow her. 

As she got to the door, she turned back around and winked at her partner. 

He reciprocated the sentiment, a smile flickering across his plump lips like a wistful hologram. And his colleagues didn’t miss it.

“They had sex,” Cassie whispered to Jenny.

“They most definitely had sex,” the blonde agreed.

“Oh, zip it,” Beau grumped, willing his expression to turn stern, but his eyes held a glimmer that the two had never seen before.

“So…,” Jenny dragged out the word, holding out her hand to Cassie.

With a sigh, Cassie pulled a 20-dollar bill from her pocket and slapped it into Jenny’s hand.

Beau’s forehead puckered. “What the-“

Jenny waggled her eyebrows. “I was right about your girlfriend.”

“Whoa, hold on…” The tall Texan lifted a finger and pointed it back and forth between the two women. “You- You made a bet on who my girlfriend is?”

“We made a bet on who can guess your type,” Cassie clarified. With her face scrunched up and her teeth bared apologetically, she added, “Sorry.”

“I can’t with you two,” Beau huffed, shaking his head. For a few seconds, he simply stared at the door that his girl had just walked through. “You know what, I think I’m gonna…” He clicked his tongue and pointed his thumb at the entrance.

“Go after Y/N?”, Cassie suggested, “Tell her what’s going on?”

Beau hesitated for a moment, then tossed his cautions overboard. “Yeah.” Y/N was part of his life now. She deserved to know if there was something troubling him. After all, she needed to know what she was getting herself into, dating the Sheriff. His work tended to take a toll on his personal life. He only hoped she wasn’t going to get tired of it.

“Y/N! Wait.”

The sound of his voice prompted her feet to stop hitting the ground. She broke into a smile when she saw Beau jogging up to her. “Hey.”

“Can I…” He breathed heavily and brushed back the dark blonde strands of hair that were scattered across his forehead. “Just walk with you for a bit?”

“Yeah. Of course.” The two of them strolled along the sidewalk, their hands gravitating toward each other, winding around each other naturally. A few moments of silence passed between the couple before Y/N took the initiative. “Are you okay?”, she asked, her voice sprinkled with concern, “You seemed a little… Out of it back there.”

“Uh... Listen, sweetheart.” Beau tugged on her hand, making her cease her steps. “Thing is… There’s this ongoing investigation... And I just… I don’t wanna put any weight on your shoulders.” 

Her gaze darted back and forth between his breathtaking eyes. “Tough case?”

His free hand scratched his beard. “Yeah. It’s nothin’ too out of the ordinary, so far, but-“

“But what?”, she pressed. When he didn’t say anything, a nauseous feeling spread in her gut. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush, so his silence sent her nerves reeling. “Beau… What about the case?”

The sounds of heels clicking harshly against the pavement interrupted the two. Before Y/N had a chance to squeeze more information out of her partner, a dark-haired woman addressed him.

“Beau.”

As soon as he recognized the newly-arrived woman, his entire face fell. “Uh…” He cleared his throat, his hand seeking out his girlfriend’s back. Whether he was trying to be her support or seek support in her, he didn’t quite know. “Y/N, this is… Carla. My ex-wife.”

“Oh!”, Y/N exclaimed, mouth parting in the shape of a perfect ‘o’. Her heart felt like it was being catapulted up to her throat. She didn’t know if she was ready to meet his ex just yet. “Uh, hi. I’m Y/N,” she introduced herself, sticking out her hand.

Carla gave her hand a firm shake, catching the view of Beau’s palm on Y/N’s lower back. “You must be the new girl.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. Yup, definitely not ready to meet the ex. 

“Yes, Y/N is my new partner,” the Sheriff stated. His jaw cramped with a speck of annoyance. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there glamping with Emily?”, he continued, concern mixing with the gruffness in his voice.

“I’m heading up to meet Em tomorrow. I had an emergency at work,” his ex-wife spoke, “And… I need to talk to you about that missing backpacker. Now.”

Y/N glanced at Beau, horizontal lines appearing on her forehead. She had no idea what Carla was talking about.

“Can we… not… do what we usually do?”, Beau asked his ex-partner with caution, raising his hand like a white flag, hoping to silently communicate that he didn’t want to argue in front of his new love. He didn’t want to make a bad impression on Y/N with his shattered marriage.

“I’m not doing anything! Ugh, you’re so sensitive,” Carla mocked him, chuckling. Turning to Y/N, she went on, “He’s a big ol’ man baby, isn’t he?”

“Excuse me?”, Y/N blurted before she could even think about it, her eyes narrowing into two unamused slits.

“Relax,” Carla retorted, her lips curling downward, “I’m joking.”

“What do you wanna talk about, exactly?”, Beau inquired, dragging his ex-wife’s attention back to him. He didn’t want Y/N to get caught in his and Carla’s poisonous web. “Everything okay with Em?”

“Straight to the point,” his ex praised him with a bitter smile, “Looks like you’re improving those communication skills.”

His facial expression froze, a huff leaving his lips, momentarily at a loss for words.

“He doesn’t need improvement,” Y/N chimed in, once again unable to stop herself. She usually had a steel grip on herself, but her protective alarm went to new heights with how Carla was treating her partner.

Beau’s hand caressed circles into his girlfriend’s back, trying to keep her calm. “You sent our daughter up there with…” He made a gesture with his free hand, tossing it in the air and letting it fall back down.

“Avery,” Carla reminded him.

“With that guy without asking me.”

“And you set Em up to meet a stranger without asking me,” his ex-wife shot back, indirectly addressing Beau’s new partner.

“Oo-kay,” Y/N mumbled, rubbing her sweaty palms together and taking a step back. “I’m gonna let you two talk this out without me.”

“Y/N…,” Beau started, his stomach turning in the most uncomfortable way possible, but she gave him a fleeting smile.

“It’s fine. I’ll wait,” Y/N whispered to him and walked away from the arguing ex-partners, her long skirt flowing violently around her legs. With a racing mind, she rounded the corner and sat down on a nearby bench. She didn’t want to be at odds with Beau’s ex-wife. She wanted everyone to get along, especially for Emily’s sake.

Y/N’s fingers fidgeted the entire time she waited for Beau, which felt like forever. She felt like the world around her was being paused, leaving her with an eternity to mentally replay what just happened.  In reality, she only waited a few torturous minutes.

Until a to-go cup filled with her favorite hot beverage entered her line of vision, urging her to look up. She was met with Beau’s gorgeous frown and stood up from the bench. He extended the cup, his precautionary olive branch.

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N spoke, a small smile fracturing her scowl as she took the hot drink from him.

“I’m sorry. About- About that.” He pointed his hand in the direction of the argument he’d left behind. “Carla and I, we’re… Not the best at communicating.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” One close look at the bashful glower on his face, and she added, “Or anything to be embarrassed about. You hear me?”

He responded with a shaky smile, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I just… God, I hated how she attacked you,” Y/N uttered.

Beau’s thumbs hooked into his belt as he pushed a snickering sound from his chest. “You went all protective on little ol’ me. Showed your claws. It was actually kinda hot.”  

She rubbed the back of her neck with her palm. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. Come ‘ere.” His big palms grasped her hips, the crow’s feet around his eyes deepening when she stepped into his embrace, mindful of the cup in her hand. His warm, loving lips met hers for a kiss. When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead to Y/N’s. “Thanks for havin’ my back. I know it’s not easy, bein’ with me.”

She nuzzled his nose with her own. “Don’t say that. I love you. And I love being with you.” The soft cushions of her lips met his mouth once more. She then pulled away from his alluring presence far enough to study his facial expression. “What’s going on?”

His upper body moved up and down with a sigh while his troubled eyes became clouded. “Cassie’s working on a case involving a missing backpacker. He… He got lost in the same area that Emily’s camping at.”

“Oh my God. Is she gonna be safe up there?”, Y/N asked, realizing why Beau was upset about the case.

His upper lip twitched like it always did when he was concerned. “I’ll make sure she is. I’m hiking up there with Cassie. I wouldn’t trust Avery as far as I could throw him, so I wanna get a look at the situation with my own two eyes. But that means I gotta cancel-“

“Our lunch date,” Y/N finished, “That’s alright. You need to check on your daughter.” In a gesture of reassurance, she ran her hand up and down his arm. “Just be careful up there, okay?”

“Always am.”

Against Y/N’s protests, Beau spared a few minutes to walk her to her salon, tightly holding her hand, stealing sips of her beverage along the way. His life felt like one big storm of chaos and broken relationships. At least with Y/N he didn’t have anything to worry about. She kept breaking through that wall he’d built around himself, brick by brick.

Part 8

Tag list: @spnwoman @waynes-multiverse @akshi8278 @aria725​ @deansbbyx​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @waywardnerd67​ @nt-multi-fandom​ @may85​ @mimi-luvzyu​ @ginabaker1666​ @daisythekitty​ @sarahgracej​ @jackharlows-world​ @maggiegirl17​ @bellarkeselection​ @nerdyreaderpapi @lacilou​ @queensgirl718​ 

[backburnerdio]

OC Kiss Week – Day 6 Adventure

WIP: Time Borrowed Pairing: Beau & Garnet cw: language Words: 855 Tag List:  @irnalia, @waysofink, @ashen-crest, @spacetimewraithwrites,@dustylovelyrun, @idreamonpaper, @abalonetea, @jaimistoryteller, @kaiusvnoir, @writeouswriter, @reininginthefirewriting, @concealeddarkness13, @winterandwords (Used the Time Borrowed taglist, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from this event or the main taglist)

Sorry it's late, it was an interesting weekend.

“Jeez-o, it wasn’t that bad bud,” Garnet continued to insist as they pulled off at one of the scenic overlooks. The last of the day’s light was sinking behind the horizon giving view of the neon glow of the city below. Beau had lost track of time causing them to leave too late to get back in time for the dinner plans he’d made. Another fiasco of the day. “I had a good time.”

“Having a good time from laughing at how bad it was isn’t a good time,” Beau grumbled, stepping out into the gravel. It was bad. It had been bad from the start.

“C’mon, don’t be grumpy,” Garnet chuckled rounding the car, tugging him closer to stand in the wash of headlights. “Today was a fantastic adventure. Really. I had a good time, and look at that,” he motioned out over the valley. “We got to come right by this way, to one of my favorite spots.”

“You didn’t know this was here,” Beau mumbled.

“Did too. I used to ride my bike up here a lot. It’s a good place to think.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“So not true. I got to spend the entire day with my supercomputer boyfriend pissing off carnival workers because he outdid every single rigged game, resulting in getting to hand out the biggest prizes to little kids and getting us banned from the state fair.”

“And you threw up –twice.”

“I did that to myself,” Garnet had the audacity to chuckle. “I like fair food more than it likes me. But it was good!”

“That sounds like shit,” Beau low-browed him, arms crossed as he sat on the guard rail.

“I felt like I was sixteen again!” Garnet laughed.

“Because we got kicked out?”

“Kinda,” he admitted.

“Even the flowers are dead up here,” Beau frowned, picking one of the shriveled wildflowers growing along the rail.

“Because the season is ending –you’re killing me, babe. It doesn’t have to be perfect,” he was still snickering, making Beau smile. “I’m serious when I say nothing could have made today better.”

“Nothing? You’re sure about that?”

“Dead ass.”

“What if I proposed to you, right here?” Beau held the flower in both hands, snickering as Garnet wheezed with laughter that usually made him double over.

“Oh, yeah, that’d do it.” he finally got out. “Dead flower would be my exact budget for an engagement ring.” Beau offered it to him as he got down on one knee.

“It’s environmentally friendly.”

“Reuse and recycle,” Garnet giggled, holding him by the arms as Beau nearly tipped over with snickers at the joke. “Oh, you shouldn’t have. It’s a…a…”

“Black-eyed Susan,” Beau provided.

“A black eye Susan? So we match! Oh, I’m the luckiest man in the world!” Garnet said, dramatically pretending to be overwhelmed, complete with mock sobs and eye wiping. While he was distracted, Beau reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out the small box. “Whaa! Yes, I—”

He made a strange gagging noise as he looked down, frozen at the sight of Beau opening the box to disclose a ring. There was a moment until the realization hit, “Wait…” his brow furrowed as he leaned to see better in his shadow from the headlights. Giggling burst from him causing Beau to laugh in turn, overtaken with energy. They continued to laugh like idiots, Garnet nearly tripping as he moved towards him, the pair of them looking like a couple of drunks.

“Will you marry me?” Beau eeked out between fits of laughter.

“Get the fuck outta here!” Garnet uncoordinatedly fought with his jacket pocket, barely able to see for the tears in his eyes. “You fuckin’ wiretap,” he roughly dropped to a knee, opening the ring box, sniffing laughter. “Yeah, I’ll marry you –if you marry me.”

“I think that’s how it works,” Beau snickered, trying to keep from crying as Garnet helped him exchange rings. Garnet pulled at his arms, trying to catch his breath and get Beau to his feet. It took a few attempts for them to stand, both stumbling in loose dirt and gravel for balance. Garnet threw his arms around Beau, pulling him in and peppering his face with kisses.

“You fucker,” Garnet spun him around, slowing into a gentle sway as both of them fought for air. “You beat me to it.”

“I was trying to find the perfect time today, but everything kept going wrong,” even while smiling he couldn’t stop the tears. “It just kept getting worse.”

“If today was bad, then we are never going to have a bad day,” Garnet chuckled, pressing their foreheads together. “I had the box out three different times today –I dropped it on the ferris wheel.”

“You said it was your wallet.”

“Because I couldn’t tell you what it really was! I wasn’t sneaking under that death trap for that, they could keep it!” He pulled Beau into a hug, burying his face into his shoulder. “Today was the perfect adventure, and I’d like to have a million more with you.”

[mareastrorum]

WIP Wednesday: TF&TS (The Plan)

Here is a scene from chapter 1 of a longfic I am working on.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the encounter with the Iron Shepherds, but a short time later, a spirit had begun hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

This fanfic will be posted on AO3 starting in June or July.

Caleb Widogast was having fourth thoughts about recruiting Otis. He had his second thoughts immediately upon seeing them in that tavern in Shadycreek Run, and then had third thoughts upon recruiting Caduceus Clay and overhearing Otis’s strange opinions about the Blooming Grove.

Each time, Caleb had reasoned that the Mighty Nein could use all the help they could get. He could not be picky, especially considering that Otis was already familiar with the Savalirwood and the Sour Nest. They had even sketched out a reasonably intelligible map of the grounds and the building—apparently, it had been a former Jagentoth manor, then was converted to a hideout for the Iron Shepherds after an “untimely” death in the family.

Unfortunately, the Nein had briefly stopped by to discover that there were more than double the earlier number of guards. That was when Otis had suggested a plan: lure a monster out of the Savalirwood to the Sour Nest. And as terrible as that sounded, none of the Nein had a better idea for dealing with quite so many guards without tipping the Iron Shepherds off that they were there to rescue the others.

Thus, Caleb and Beau were following Otis through the Savalirwood to a supposed monster lair of a “bone bear” they were sure they could lure to the Sour Nest. Otis had not explained how the group was to accomplish this, but, well…

“Trust me, trust me, it’ll be awesome,” Otis snickered as they led through a surprisingly quick path through the overgrown wood. Was it that Otis had traveled this way before, or were they that familiar with how the corrupted trees grew in the area? At this point, Caleb’s fourth thoughts had been going on so long that they may as well be the fifth, too.

“Listen, uh, Otis,” Beau grumbled as she deftly maneuvered through the roots, though Caleb was having trouble following. “How are we gonna get this thing back there?”

“You said you’re fast!” Otis barked. “So I’m gonna ride on your shoulders shooting at it to piss it off, and you’re gonna run back to lead it. And the wizard’s gonna stay outta sight and slow it, ‘cause it’s gonna be quick.”

Beau made a half-grimace half-scowl of disapproval, but she turned and nodded her head at Caleb to speak in her stead. At least she was trying to be civil—rather, trying to avoid hostility.

“Ah, excuse me—you want Beauregard to lure it and I will follow behind it?” Caleb stumbled, both figuratively and literally as his foot caught on a root while he was distracted. “Ow.”

“Safest place, really, really,” Otis replied excitedly. “Those bears get fixed on whatever they’re chasin’, and anythin’ else nearby is gonna get outta the way. It’ll clear all the dense brush, too, so even if you fall behind, it’ll be fuckin’ easy to get back. All we gotta do is make sure I piss it off the most and Beau doesn’t drop me, and we’re good!”

Caleb felt a bit of awe at the courage of this halfling so willing to risk their own life to anger a bear made of bones and to trust a human they met only hours earlier to carry them to safety all in the name of rescuing an old friend that was supposed to be dead… but mostly it was sheer exasperation that they had found someone more foolhardy than Mollymauk. Beauregard looked back at Caleb with her are we really doing this? face. He could only sigh and nod in reply.

They continued another thirty-six minutes of slow, careful hiking with only the noise of the woods. Creaking trees, rustling leaves, distant howls and growls. Otis paused in place once they heard snarling close by, then stifled their laughing completely and quietly continued forward. So, the halfling could be silent after all.

Moonlight broke through the clouds and trees ahead into a small clearing. The trio carefully made their way behind a large tree just at the edge and peeked around the brush.

Judging by the stray pieces of bone and fur scattered about, it indeed seemed like a bear with bones grown around its fur had once made its den in the hollowed out tree at the other end of the small glade. Small piles of clean bones to either side of the entrance bolstered that theory.

But there were five large wolves (dire wolves perhaps?) gathered around a mass of meat, snarling loudly as they ate, a few fighting over whatever particularly appetizing section they felt was theirs. They ripped through the bony flesh easily, massive jaws crunching their meal with vigor as they devoured a bear that must have been taller than the firbolgs left behind at the Sour Nest.

No. Their faces, their tongues, their ears, their legs, their torsos were too long. Far too long. Each body extended several dozen feet, weaving around the others like snakes…

No, they all connected to a single set of rear legs.

It was one wolf beast with five torsos. Five heads. Five mouths.

Caleb forced himself to swallow and take a breath once he realized he had stopped breathing, then very slowly moved his entire body behind the tree. Beau and Otis soon followed.

Gods, they needed to get out of there. Now.

“So, uh… I guess I forgot to check the moon,” Otis chuckled maniacally under their breath. “It, uh, it wanders pretty far south this time in the cycle. Uh, uh, well— heheheheh, this might work, too. Listen, that thing doesn’t move through thick woods too great, so if we stick to the rough terrain, it’ll be way slower.”

“You want to lure that?” Beau hissed in a whisper. “That? What the fuck is that?”

“That’s the Wolf-King,” Otis replied blithely. “It’s got a pretty big territory, so it kinda works its way through the wood dependin’ on the moon. It doesn’t stay long though, it eats and then leaves, so this might work better, ‘cause once it’s done eatin’ whatever it can see, it’ll fuckin’ run.”

“How certain are you?” Caleb questioned, sounding far more calm than he felt. While the Wolf-King looked like it would take care of the guards, it would do the Nein no good to lure a monster that would lay claim to the Sour Nest as its own den.

“For sure, for sure,” Otis answered as they nodded. “Been in these woods for years, and the Uttolots have been after that thing for just as long. Jagoda had maps and notes about it that, uh, happened to get lost when the Trebain family wanted to settle a grudge.” Otis grinned wide. “It’ll eat whatever’s in sight, but as soon as it loses track of somethin’, it’ll run off huntin’ for somethin’ else. It’s got five brains, so it never waits for anythin’ to come outta hidin’ ‘cause all it takes is for a buncha them get distracted to drag the rest away. So, worst case: we run into the Nest and get out of reach. Or on top, ‘cause it’s shit at climbin’.”

“You actually think we can outrun that?” Beau pressed skeptically.

Caleb was not sure what prompted the switch in tone and demeanor, but Otis narrowed their eyes at Beau, then grinned wickedly.

“Lucien does this sorta shit all the time,” Otis sassed. “Hells, he’s the one that came up with this plan for fuckin’ with the Jagentoths. You’re faster than him, right? Right?”

Beau glared indignantly as she clenched her jaw, then huffed, “How fast is it?”

“Pretty fast, yeah, yeah, but it gets caught on stuff easy, so if it gets close, you just gotta run through some tight spaces and it’ll hafta slow down,” Otis chuckled deviously.

As obvious as that manipulation was, Caleb could not help but think that it was for the best. This was probably the stupidest idea they could have gone for, but with his adrenaline already pumping and knowing what the Shepherds were up to back at the Nest—no, they could not wait, and they could not return empty-handed. If Beauregard was confident in her ability to traverse the forest, he would trust that. It was a calculated risk. One they could manage.

He just wasn’t sure how Otis had known that would persuade Beauregard.

“I can still slow it,” Caleb between long, steady breaths. “Just be careful, Beauregard.”

Beau met Caleb’s eyes, and while they seemed to be equally reticent, they both nodded. If anyone could get away from that monstrosity, it was her. And if she had to, she could just shove Otis off and flee. Beau might not be as ruthless as Fjord or himself, but Caleb was confident she would do what was necessary to get out of this.

Or perhaps that was Bren shining through in a dark moment and expecting Beau to become just as heartless.

No matter. They were in dire straights, and softness was not going to rescue the others. Caleb could feel guilty about it later. For now, they needed to lure a monster.

“Shit at climbing, you said?” Beau asked as she looked up at the tree behind her.

“Yeah, yeah,” Otis confirmed.

“Caleb, c’mon,” Beau said as she readied her hands as a foothold on her knee. Caleb frowned, but clambered up with her help onto the lowest branch, about eight feet up. He only barely managed to lift himself up after readjusting onto her shoulders. There was no doubt he would have a graceless leap down, but it would keep him out of sight when the Wolf-King ran past. By the time Caleb had adjusted for a good vantage point to cast—practically laying on his stomach along the branch—Beau had already lifted Otis onto her shoulders, and Otis had readied their crossbow.

“Ready,” Caleb wheezed unenthusiastically as he pulled molasses from his pocket, the thick tree bark nudging his ribs uncomfortably, even through his coat.

“Ready,” Beau agreed as she shifted to the edge of the tree.

“This is gonna be awesome,” Otis snickered again.

Caleb could not see the glade from this angle, but once Beau stepped out from cover, Otis aimed and fired their crossbow, then rapidly shot three sickly green beams of energy into the open space. (Was that like Fjord’s eldritch blast?) Overlapping howls and snarls rang out before barking and loud scrambling joined the cacophony.

“RUN!” Otis screeched as Beau dashed through the brush back toward the Nest. They nearly fell, but Beau had a solid grip on their feet as she fled.

Only a few seconds later, each of the Wolf-King’s torsos lunged through the same space after the two, practically tearing all the brush asunder as it passed. One torso caught onto a smaller trunk and whined as the others dragged it back across the rough bark and it struggled to catch up.

Caleb quietly muttered his Slow spell as he smeared the molasses across his cheek, and the entire monster suddenly began to move at half speed. While he did not hear anymore crossbow shots over the ongoing din from the Wolf-King, he spotted more green energy blasts smack the monster across two faces, a third flying past harmlessly, and the beast seemed to lurch forward unwillingly into several trees. It raged as it recovered and continued after them.

Even with the spell, the chase rushed into the woods within seconds, leaving Caleb alone and heaving in fear as the forest went quiet.

“Scheiße,” Caleb cursed as he clumsily dropped to the ground, stumbling and scraping his knees in the fall, and then started jogging after the chaos. At this point, he was probably on his sixth or seventh thoughts, but at least it would keep the panic at bay. “Iiiiii’ll be right behind you— oh gods, this was a stupid idea.”

Although he was not a religious man, Caleb could not help but feel at the pocket with his symbol of the Arch Heart and mutter a quick plea that the gods would at least protect his friends.

[aj-applebox]

That Great, Old Beast - A Short Story

[Woop woop here's the final, finished short story, That Great, Old Beast. Started writing this for a class weeks ago and I'm finally done with it. Came out to around 3600 words. Maybe I'll write a longer version in the future, but for now, I'm done touching it. Hope you enjoy!!]

..

[Possible Content/Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Alcohol/Drug Usage, Implied Death.] 

 .. 

Ronan couldn’t remember Bonnie anymore— not the way that he could remember the green of Michigan and the freckles of his mother’s cheek. He lost her by the docks of some town he couldn’t name, cradled in his mother’s tender arms. He lost her face to the fog— her voice to the crashing waves.What he did remember was the way she smelled, like rosemary and sea salt. Just before she left, Bonnie leaned down and pressed a kiss into Ronan’s curly, blonde hair— the same hair that their grandmother used to have, and that their mom loved so dearly. Then, squeezing Ronan’s tiny hands and kissing her mother’s cheek, she cooed words of comfort in their ears:“I’ll be back. I swear,” Bonnie whispered.Ronan was too young. The only thing he knew how to do was wail— how to puff his cheeks and cry.By the time Ronan reached the age of five, his blonde hair darkened to a hazelnut brown— much to his mother’s dismay; and Bonnie, when Ronan asked about her, was no more than a distant memory... Ronan and his mother were nomads. They had lived in fifteen different states by the time he started to care. Usually, they stayed with his mom’s friends— on pull-out couches, in trailers, in attics. The first time they ever really settled down was at a grimy, old motel in the middle of Arizona.  Ronan had just turned six. The motel room reeked of a constant, burning incense— the sort that gave him a headache.

“Mrs. Mallory likes the smell,” his mother explained.  Ronan hated Mrs. Mallory. She yelled at his mother a lot, and she said that Beau, his new best friend, would burn in hell for his red hair. “Ro! Look! Kate bought me Thunder-phant Man!” Beau squeaked, while shoving his newest figurine into Ronan’s face, “His eyes light up, and when you press this button—”Rumble, CRACK! A staticky thunder and crackling sound effect grumbled out of the tiny speaker on Thunder-phant Man’s back.“Isn’t he so cool?”Beau lived in the motel room next door with his older sister Kate. He would let Ronan play with his exclusive set of Electric Elephant-Man figurines; and he didn’t mind when Ronan ranted about dragons and wizards from the books he was reading. Since Kate was rarely home, Ronan could spend every day in their room, which smelled like instant noodles and cheese puffs, instead of incense. But one day, Ronan woke up and knocked at Beau and Kate’s door. It swung wide. Like Bonnie had years earlier, Beau and Kate had vanished.Suddenly, Ronan felt like a toddler washing his hands under the spray of a watering can for the very first time. He had taken, and taken, and taken, and then run out of water before his hands were fully clean. Unlike Bonnie, when Ronan asked about them and when he would see Beau again, his mom set down her cigarette and answered, “They took a Greyhound outta town last night. I’m sorry, baby.”  But what Ronan heard was that Beau and Kate, his first ever friends, had been guzzled up by a huge, gray beast.  And so, two months later, when his mother scooped him up in her big, strong arms and whispered that they were leaving, and that they were going to a Greyhound station— Ronan wasn’t upset. He was going to see Beau again. “Get some sleep, baby,” his mom whispered, in a voice sweet and slow like honey. “It’ll be a long drive.”  Ronan closed his eyes, but he didn’t quite fall asleep. He listened and peeked through his fingers as that colossal, old beast— the one he saw gulping up Beau and Kate in his dreams— finally came into view. It nuzzled up to the pennies in his mother’s hand, and with a screech, the hound opened its enormous maw and swallowed them whole.But even in the belly of that beast, Ronan saw no sign of Beau. That great hound grumbled away, away, away…. And out of the beast’s huge eyes, Ronan watched as the burnt, desert plains of Arizona faded into the suffocating lush of an endless, green forest. Ronan imagined reaching out and sticking his hand through the trees, and how it would surround him, like the thick, matted fur of Susie, a black cat who sat on the steps of Mr. Alfonso’s corner store, where his mother bought her cigarettes. Don’t pet it, Ronan! It’s probably got fleas, his mother would say. Eventually, that great beast groaned to a stop, and spat them out in the dirt driveway of a tiny house surrounded by green. Their new home was no bigger than the motel room they had before, but it stood on its own and had its own steps, and the floor was real wood! It also came with a very tall man who had steel, beady eyes. Except Ronan didn’t care about that man all too much or the new house; because just behind it, the forest crept close— all tangled, tempting tree-branches and mossy ground. While his mother and the beady-eyed man chatted on the front porch, Ronan slinked away. Still no sign of Beau, but if he were anywhere, it’d have to be in those deep woods.Skipping over gigantic boulders and combing through the thick brush, Ronan recalled a book that he’d rented from the library back in Arizona. In it, an elven knight braved the great wilderness and on the other side, found the ancient, lost kingdom of Whistleplume.Ronan armed himself with the thorned branch of a nearby tree. Whistleplume was near.  

It lurked in the edges of his view, and all he had to do was cross the Silver Blooded Canal, a violent stream filled with the agonized souls of all the adventurers that came before him. Finding himself imbued with a newfound magic, Sir Ronan the Great felled an enormous oak over the stream and readied himself to cross. Unfortunately, the second that Sir Ronan set foot on the log, he tumbled clumsily into the water. He sputtered, the coursing river carrying him down, down, downstream, until he washed up on the shore of a small clearing, filled with delicate, white flowers.  Sir Ronan stood, stepping into the clearing. In those flowers, he found Marina. Marina looked up at him— in his muddy shoes and soaking pajamas. She wore a pretty dress and two long, curly pigtails. Ever the Great Knight, Sir Ronan dropped into a kneel— for he had stumbled upon the lost queen of Whistleplume.  .. “Fuck, I hate him!”  “What’d he do this time?” Ronan asked. 

“Ugh—!” Ronan could hear Marina’s eyes roll through the phone. “He ate my leftovers in the fridge again. That’s like, the third time. And I’ve already told him about it, and he keeps doing it. I’m so fucking pissed.” Queen Marina of Whistleplume had a job now. Two jobs, in fact. One of them, as a student counselor for incoming Stanford freshmen. The other, as a receptionist for a law firm. She lived in her own apartment that she shared with her boyfriend, Jordan— an engineering major two years younger than her.  “I wouldn’t care so much except I’m the only one who cooks in this damn house, and it's not like he pays for the groceries, either.”  Marina talked about life plans. She talked about studying for the bar. She talked about developing her own law firm. About fame and success.  “Like how dense can you be?”  “Yeah, that’s um— Yeah, that’s messed up.” “I know, right? Ugh—!” .. It turned out that there was a whole world out there, despite their history as Queen and loyal Knight to the kingdom of Whistleplume. Ronan learned that the day he turned fourteen, and the beady-eyed man handed him a hefty stack of job applications.  “There’s something wrong about you,” the beady-eyed man grumbled. “Always floating five feet off the ground.” “Oh, leave him alone, Richard,” his mother tutted, from her slump on the living room couch. “No, no, Carol, he’s gotta grow up sometime,” the man huffed. “I don’t like that look in his eyes— Like he’s always somewhere else. And I don’t like him always running off in the woods, especially not with that girl. Who knows what they get up to.” “Richard!” “He’s not a kid anymore, Caroline, accept it!” His mother shoved herself up from the couch, jabbing her cigarette at the beady-eyed man’s chest like a rapier.  “He’ll always be my baby!” she gritted; her face shrouded in smoke. “No, he’s a teenager! And trust me, I know what they’re like, and it ain’t nothing good.” Ronan set the stack of applications down on the kitchen table and watched as his mother and the beady-eyed man squared off in the living room. The beady-eyed man dodged Ronan’s mom’s rapier with quick, practiced steps— and parried with his glass of whiskey shield.

The next morning, Marina was missing from her seat in class, which usually meant that she had gotten into an argument with her mom.

Ronan found her between the Keating's farm and the creek where they had first met, building a lean-to against two huge pine trees.

"Richard doesn't want me meeting you out here, anymore," Ronan mumbled, sliding down to sit against one of the trees."What?" Marina huffed, "Why not?""I think he thinks we're doing stupid shit.""Well, I mean, kinda. I did skip class to work on this.""No. Stupid shit. Like, y'know...""Oh, ew, you're like my little brother.""I know.""Did you want to be doing that kind of thing?"Ronan groaned, "God, no.""So why does he think that?""I dunno! I guess I'm getting older, or whatever.""Okay. Case closed. Just ignore him."Ronan huffed. Marina had leaned a few logs up against the trees in a makeshift nook and covered the whole structure in a crackly blue tarp. In that moment, she was dragging blankets inside to pad out the floor. Seeing that Ronan was still sitting outside, and not making an effort to help, she paused and turned to him."Ronan. What's wrong?""Richard's been on my ass about getting a job. He says there's something wrong with me."

“Fuck him. There’s nothing wrong with you.”"What if there is?"Marina tossed aside the blankets and plopped down beside Ronan. She huffed, leaning back on her hands. "I know you're not like all the other kids. And that's fine. Neither am I. Why do you think I'm here? We're both looking for something in these goddamn woods. Belonging. Quiet."

"What'd your mom say this time?" Ronan asked."She wants me to go into the military, like my brother."  

"Are you?""Going into the military? I don't know. I don't want to.""So don't.""You don't get it. She's worked so hard to give me a chance in life. I've gotta make her happy. It's the least I can do.""Well... If you had a choice, what would you do?""I don't know. Maybe I'd paint. I'd get a little cabin in Alaska and sketch the wildlife. What about you? Are you gonna be a writer?""I think so. My mom doesn't mind.""And Richard?""Fuck him."Marina laughed, "Yeah! Fuck him. And fuck everything else. Everyone else. I'll do what I want. I'll fight everyone. The whole world.".. When Ronan was eighteen, he and Marina had both applied and gotten into colleges in different states. Marina had forgone her previous ideas of fighting the world, and had instead developed a very clear, and sensible plan: four years at Stanford University, then four years at Stanford Law, then pass the bar, and spend the rest of her life as a lawyer. It made her mom happy, and anyhow, she was good at that sort of thing. It made sense. The only thing Ronan was good at was writing, because it meant that he could spend hours at a time in a world outside of himself— outside of the kid that never grew up, outside of the boy who spent more time reading books than partying, and outside of the person that the beady-eyed man was so very disappointed in.

“So, I was telling him that he’s gotta have an appointment, and he was getting so fussy with me, I swear! Like, I know he’s got a real big problem, but there’s a lotta people with big problems. I mean, Mr. Johnson, the attorney he was trying to see, wasn’t even in town that week, like—” “—Hey, uh, Marina?” Ronan cut in, scrubbing his face with his free hand.  It was ten p.m., and Marina had called him as he was trying to fall asleep for the night.  “What— Oh, hang on, I think my pizza’s here.” Ronan rolled over in his bed, listening as Marina shuffled her phone around and talked to the pizza delivery driver. After a moment, she apparently had settled down again. “Okay,” she garbled, between bites of pizza, “What is it?” “... I’m sorry, I— I know this is important to you, but I’ve gotta head to sleep. I have work at six tomorrow.” “What? Oh, shit, right, you’re what? Three hours ahead?”"Yeah." “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll let you go,” Marina huffed, “But call me as soon as you get off work.” “I will, I will.”..Ronan’s fingers trembled, hovering aimlessly over his keyboard. He had a five-thousand-word story due in two days, and he’d hardly even started. He was on the phone with Marina again, but a brief lull of quiet had overtaken them.“Hey, Marina?” he uttered, breaking the silence. “Hm? Oh, sorry I was just checking my emails,” Marina hummed. “That’s fine—” “There’s this professor I have, God, I have to tell you—” “I—” Ronan croaked. “—He keeps assigning things like two days before they’re due! Ugh… What were you saying?” “I’m… I’m worried. I feel like this isn’t the career for me.” “What? How come?” “I just— I know you said to chase my dreams and everything but… I mean, I have bills to pay. And I’ve gotta help out my mom… So I’ve been working all these different jobs to try and keep up, and by the time I find a moment to actually write… I’m exhausted.” “Oh, Ronan, you just have to keep working at it! I mean, look, I used to be all mopey like this too— but y’know what? When I stopped complaining and actually started hustling— It all panned out. Besides, you said you wanted this. Maybe, if you'd chosen a more traditional career path, you wouldn't have to work so hard.” “Right.” “Anyways— About this professor, right?” Ronan bit his tongue and stared up at the ceiling, as if it could tell him what to do. In their youth, Marina filled the space that Beau had left. She was always there when Ronan needed her. It was only natural that he did the same.  So why now did it bother him so much?.. Ronan stared out his window, watching the faint glow of the streetlights and passing cars outside his apartment. Though it was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake for Marina, it was midnight in Massachusetts for Ronan.  “Can you believe he’d say that to me? I mean, seriously! It’s not my fault he’d gotten the date wrong. So I told him—” “I don’t think I like these calls, anymore, Marina,” Ronan cut in, his anger, for once, getting the best of him. “What?” Ronan stared up at the ceiling again, as if that god they all kept talking about might finally step in for him. “Well— I don’t know,” he uttered, “I just feel like you don’t really care what I say, so long as it makes you feel better.” “So… What you’re saying is… You hate me.” “I don’t hate you, Marina,” Ronan groaned. “Then what the fuck is this?”  Ronan’s throat burned with bile. The last time he’d heard Marina’s voice like this— all venom and crackling hellfire— he’d broken a precious watch that Marina’s brother had given to her. Ronan was twelve, and he’d never been handed something so precious before. He dropped it in the mud. The glass casing shattered, and the muck had gotten into all those shiny, polished gears. “Christ, Ronan! Where’d you go again?” Marina groaned, “You’re always fucking doing that!” “Um, sorry—” Ronan stammered, blinking away the memory. “Look, Ronan, I don’t need this right now. Whatever the fuck this is.” 

“No— Marina! Marina! I’m not trying to be mean to you. I’m just trying to communicate, you know? I mean, you’re always preaching about that, right? Let’s just have— a civil conversation.” “Fine,” she spat, “What is it?” Ronan threw his blanket off the side of the bed and sat up. Too fast. And the world spun— hot, pounding blood in his ears. Was it always this hot in here?  “I don’t… I don’t hate you, Marina, I just… I don’t know. Lately, I feel like I’ve been distant, and you haven’t noticed or cared.”“God— What do you want me to say to that, Ronan?” Ronan curled in on himself, wincing as the joints in his back cracked, “I don’t know.” A car alarm blared outside Marina’s apartment— BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…Ronan’s heart beat the sixteenths in between each blare— BEEP, ee, and uh, BEEP, ee, and uh, BEEP, ee, and uh— Marina swore and slammed her window shut with a sharp crack. Ronan flinched.“Look, if you’re that pressed about it…” Marina huffed, “Why do you keep picking up? Why don’t we just stop? You can go off and find someone who ‘actually cares’ and I’ll do the same.” 

 Ronan bit his lip so hard it split. His mouth filled with copper. “Just like that?�� he whined. “Like what?” 

“Marina, don’t you remember when we were kids? When every stone was a mountain? When those still creeks were oceans, and those woods stretched past everything we’d ever known? Don’t you remember building forts? Talking about life. You said you wanted to paint. You were gonna build a little cabin for yourself in the wilderness to do whatever you wanted."

Ronan raised his head and pictured meeting Marina’s eyes. He knew what she would look like. Her face would be pinched, as if she had just sunk her teeth into the flesh of a grapefruit.  

“Doesn’t that mean something?” Ronan begged, suddenly soft. “Doesn’t that mean something to you?” 

“I’m not that person anymore, Ronan,” Marina replied, her tone even and dry. “I hate this about you. You’re always, always living in the past. You’ve gotta—” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Ronan–” Marina started, exasperated. Ronan hung up. Ronan had never been good at letting go of the people he loved. Not Bonnie, not Beau, and definitely not Marina. That night, Ronan deleted Marina’s number from his phone and caught the next bus back to those old woods and still creeks. When I think of you, Ronan thought, later, while he was staring out that old beast’s eyes again, I think about tearing my lips on the shards of life’s great, big femur— and sucking out the marrow of all that it is to be human. Doesn’t that mean something?. 

.

Marina had outgrown the youth that Ronan so deeply cherished. It was an odd thing, knowing so much about a person, and then suddenly, so little. Ronan couldn’t help but mourn. That grumbling Greyhound spat him out in the ruins of his youth again, now much older, and even less certain of things. He saw his mother out in the garden, no longer so big and strong, but frail.And Ronan saw that beady-eyed man, in legacy, not figure. In the dusty ashtray on the porch, and in the cracks of the floorboards. 

His mother, catching a glimpse of Ronan lingering on the driveway, called out to him.

“Oh, Ro!” she cried, “What on Earth are you doing here?”Ronan’s mother dusted her hands on her dress and staggered over. She greeted him with a warm, if slightly confused smile. “It’s not fall break already, is it?”Ronan, suddenly feeling very, very small, sunk into his mother’s arms, as he always did. And she held him very gently, as she had always done.“Ma…” Ronan whispered, “Won’t you tell me about Bonnie?”“Ronan…”“What happened to her? Why’d she leave me?”His mother cupped his face in her trembling, wrinkled hands, and rasped, “Bonnie loved you so very much.”

Ronan knew that already, but he didn't like how it changed his mother’s face to talk about Bonnie. Her eyes glossed over, in a way that reminded Ronan of glistening sea glass. 

Somehow, it had never occurred to him that adults could cry. ..

In the morning after, Ronan treaded down the creaking porch steps and gazed outwards. Where there were once lush forests, cars and trucks bustled about— on clean roads, and surrounded by sleek, pristine buildings: the beginnings of a brand-new city, creeping up on the edge of their old driveway.As if sensing his disapproval, the sun stretched its warm hands outwards, fingertips catching the edges of rooftops and peeking through windows. To the city, it said:“I’m still here. In spite of you, I’m still here.”

Squinting against the glare, Ronan spotted the silhouette of a flock of geese, careening over a distant, winding river bend. If he were brave enough, he would rush down the driveway and chase after them. His torn sneakers would melt into the smooth sidewalks, and his socks would meet the damp grass. 

He’d follow them way, way past the horizon, and on the other side— in that tremendous world beyond— he’d be reborn.

[euterpe-of-hesiod]

Excerpt from Part Two: Ballad of the Linnet Bird

Welcome to Mrs. McCullough’s Twelfth Grade English Class! For your first journal entry, introduce yourself. What should we know about you? 

My name is Linnet Beau Blue. I am 19 years old (old for a senior, I know), and I am a fair folk from Sugar Holler in Sugar Mountain. It’s about two hours from here if you go straight up on the 85, but to me it feels like it might as well be a whole world away. It’s been so long since I’ve been home there that it feels closer like a dream than a real memory. But sometimes I get closer to it when I sit down by the Catawba River and I close my eyes. It’s the sound that brings me back there, lifts me up like the wind. 

I left Sugar Holler when I just turned 9. My sister at the time was a little over one year old. Her name is Sapphire. My maw is named Tiffany Blue, and my paw is named Beau Blue. Paw left first to try to fight back against the company that wrecked our home. When me and maw left, we was hoping to reunite with him but that’s not what happened. What did happen is a long story and I don’t think fifteen minutes of journaling time is enough to tell it all, so I’ll tell you another time if it comes up. I guess the important thing to know is that my maw trusted the folks in charge to help us, and the folks in charge promised as much, but all they did was break my family into pieces.

I’ve been a ward of the state with NCDDHS ever since. In my first group home, they took Sapphire right outta my arms. Stole her from me. They said there was a couple who wanted to look after her and could do a better job than the woman looking after me and three other kids. You tell me: do you think a couple of strangers could do a better job of loving my baby sister than me? 

I know my answer. 

 I went to a couple different group homes after that, bouncing back and forth between places before I was matched with a woman named Danica who I lived with in Wilkesboro for a while. Which was bearable, until it wasn’t. Let’s leave it there for now. Then there was Mama Eddie, who I loved, then a woman named Meredith Jones, before I ended up here with Jess and Jo, here in Charlotte. I’ve been with them for about two years now. Life don’t feel normal to me, but I’m used to it. I like that they got a pretty little backyard where I can sit and sing. That’s my favorite part of any day.. I take off my shoes, taste all that fresh air, and I get to sing freely the way I like to sing. 

I also sing in church. It ain’t my church, but church ain’t so bad because of the singing and because it brings me back to Sugar Holler. I met many good god-loving people in Sugar Holler and here in Jess and Jo’s church, there’s good people too. 

Finally, I sing in the bathroom sometimes. It’s my favorite place in just about any human house. The acoustics aren’t so bad. If I put the water on, I can pretend I’m in one of the caves in Sugar Mountain, and there’s a waterfall at my back, singing with me. 

To be honest, I’m not sure if these were the answers you were looking for. I read this all over and it feels like it’s riddled with holes. How can a person fit a life into two pages? How can I know what’s important? Everything feels important to me, like every day of my living is another piece of fabric that I’m trying to stitch together into a quilt. Fit all my pieces together, even the pieces with ragged edges. I got so many ragged edges and loose threads in me now. But I’m trying to weave myself into something beautiful, something my parents will be proud of, when we meet again.

But if you really want to know me, then this isn’t the best way. If you really want to know me, come walk with me and hear me sing.

[zepskies]

LOL Yesss Stefon! 😂 I'm already excited to dive into your thoughts on this one.

I can't 😂😂😂 Also so accurate how I actually would behave on a horse lmao

Girl, same. 💀💀 I'd be holding on for dear life lmao.

My cheeks are tomato red by the end of that riding lesson, Zep! Dear fucking Lord, can he please teach me and let me squeeze him with my thighs. I'm rarin' to go, too *whines in horny* 😩

Oooh trust, we'll get there. 😏❤️‍🔥

The way he is concerned and checks up on her 🥹🫶 And to answer his earlier inner monologue question: he's for sure horny for her, too. "Cheer her up because she's Denise's niece" my ass lol

Beau's a protective one, that's for sure! In my mind it would be a combo of his profession (I'm sure he's dealt with plenty of domestic violence cases), and just his personality in general. And ha! He's fooling no one but himself on that one. lol

Ugh, yeah, her ex is "something" all right. (Most definitely an idiot sandwich. 🤣)

It is! A very skillful way to avoid talking about feelings *sighs*

And Beau is a black belt at this, unfortunately. 🙃

I sometimes really wonder what their marriage was like and how little he actually shared. It just sounds crazy to me not to talk to your partner about something so heavy and devastating like that 🤷‍♀️ Weren't they best friends? Through thick and thin? Or was it one of those "yeah, we got married but it never was that full true love kinda relationship, so now we just stayed together for the kid until that wasn't bearable anymore either." Feels like that to me 😬

The way I pretty much thought the same thing! Like what kind of relationship did these two have where he felt like he couldn't share his grief with his wife? It's beyond me, but yeah, maybe it was a case of he always felt he had to be strong enough to "lock it up" and deal with it himself.

Since Carla's a high-profile lawyer, I got the feeling she's one to keep her emotions under tight lock and key, doesn't get frazzled easily, etc. But that could also make her impatient with Beau. Like "I'm here for you but just get it out already." Hence her leaving him when he couldn't do what she wanted. 🤔 Again, I'm just theorizing.

Ah yes, classic family moves 😂

Lol ikr? The reader's family in Chicago is more felt not seen in this story.

And I loved Emily bonding with the reader! I fully believe she did that because she knows her dad likes her. So sweet! 😍 (Even though that whole podcast sounds like an awkward nightmare waiting to happen lol)

I'm so glad you enjoyed that!! Wanted to touch back on her connection with Emily, now that it's not trauma bonding lol. Oh, we'll get to the podcast eventually. 🤣

But lmfao thank you for shouting out the "old clam" line. Low-key one of my favorites for this chapter. 🤣🤣 (Your gif choices are immaculate, btw.)

That whole exchange broke my damn heart! But I loved how gracefully Jenny handled it all 😭❤️

It broke mine too while writing it, honestly. But yeah, I didn't think Jenny would be one to be petty about her own budding feelings, with the politeness/respect she showed Carla on the show. (I also don't like writing petty women against women in general.)

And then you (Michael) waltz in with that cliffhanger ending! I hope Beau kicks that doucheface outta town all cowboy like 😂 (He can do that, right?)

Oooh, we shall see. 😏

Thanks so much for your amazing feedback, lovely! Truly brightened my day. 💕

Take Me Home - Part 4

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Ready for a riding lesson? 😏

Song Inspo: “Sunshine on My Shoulders” by John Denver

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, and a cliffhanger...

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 4: A Past & Future Thing

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck. 

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look. He was sitting all calm and natural on his own horse, a chestnut brown beauty of a stud. Apparently, his name was Clyde. You were riding his brother Dale, who was supposed to be the older, gentler of the two.

Beau was right next to you, since he was the one holding the reins. You two were still just a little way off from the stable as he guided your horse with his, letting you just get a feel for the ride.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that animals can sense our vibes,” he said, giving you a look that tipped his Stetson forward. “So if you just take a few deep breaths, I promise you, it’ll get easier.”

You met Beau’s gaze. You didn’t know if it was the smooth, steady tone of his voice or the sincerity in his eyes, but you did as he advised. You made the effort of exhaling slowly, and you began to relax.

“Okay,” he nodded with a smile. Then he gestured ahead. “Now, look forward for me. Try not to look at his hooves, though I know they’re pretty.”

He teased a smile out of you as you did what he said, casting your gaze up ahead to the horizon. It was a beautiful day. A wide expanse of terrain laid out ahead of you, with green grass mottled with some brown, and a weather-beaten trail clearly carved by horses and lessons given.  

“And like I told you,” he added, “Try not to squeeze so hard with your legs, or he’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.” 

You blushed, and relaxed your thighs enough so you were just supporting yourself on the horse, not giving yourself a leg cramp. 

“Okay, I think you’re ready for me to let go. Wanna keep going on your own?” Beau suggested. 

You were wary, but you tentatively nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“Are you sure?” Beau asked. Again, his eyes met yours. “I’ll keep guiding you the whole way if you want. Either way, I’ve gotcha.”

You swallowed down a bit of nerves. “Yeah?”

He smiled, and you noticed how it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Trust me,” he said. “You’re not gonna fall on my watch.”

Warmth coiled its way around your heart. You let out another deep breath, and you agreed to have him hand over the reins to you. You were nervous at first, but Beau reminded you of how to guide Dale with subtle movements.

The old horse plodded forward without incident. When you gave Beau a triumphant look, that answering grin of his warmed you down to your toes. The two of you rode together more as companions while making your way across the grassy plain.

“So of all the things, why’d you wanna learn to ride a horse?” Beau asked.

“Because it terrified me,” you replied honestly. “I love animals, don’t get me wrong. Riding one though? They’re unpredictable…but I’m also tired of being afraid of what I can’t control.”

Beau nodded. He could certainly understand that.

Together, you traveled up a roaming hill. Once you reached the peak, you marveled at the view. The afternoon sun was bright and golden above the mountains and the distant line of trees.

Meanwhile, Beau glanced at you. You’d gotten more confident and comfortable in what you were doing, and it was endearing to see. You were cute, he could admit. Beautiful, as a matter of fact. You had the sun shining in your eyes, and on your hair getting tousled by the chilly breeze.

You also seemed to have a kind heart. He’d seen it in just how hard your friend’s death had hit you. He saw it again when he helped you move into your apartment. He saw the joy you took in cooking dinner for all of them after a long-ass day, even though you could’ve just ordered a pizza.

It was the little things, he thought, and the more he saw of you, the more he liked.

That thought also made his heart twinge, and not in a good way. Carla reared up in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was more with annoyance or guilt at this point, but she’d moved on a hell of a long time before he had anyway. (Beau could admit that point, just to himself.)

It just made him wonder what he was doing here with you. Was it just because he knew you were having a hard time, and he wanted to cheer you up? Was it because you were Denise’s family? Or was it because…he just wanted to see more of you?

“You don’t get this view in the city, huh?” Beau asked. 

“You do not,” you replied. Your smile grew, making his do the same without him realizing.

Inside though, he wanted to shake his head at himself. You were a bit younger than him. Maybe not by all that much, in the grand scheme of things, but he was in his mid-forties, divorced with a sixteen-year-old daughter, and a somewhat unpredictable, occasionally dangerous job. At this point, he wouldn’t exactly consider himself a catch.

You were also dealing with a complicated past of your own. You’d been through a lot, especially in the past couple of weeks.

And yet, Cassie’s probing questions circled through his mind, invading his thoughts every time he found himself looking your way. 

Your face slowly dimmed. “Next week is Mary’s funeral. I’m going back home for a few days.”

Beau processed that with a nod, but he could guess why you looked worried. 

“And your ex?” he asked.

“He’s going to be there for sure. We were all close.” A deep breath rushed out of you. You peeled your eyes away from the view and looked over at him. “God help me, I don’t want to go home…does that make me a bad person?”

“Nah, I get it,” he said. He regarded you with more weight in his gaze. “But this guy. Is he the aggressive type?”

“No,” you assured. Then more wryly, “He’s only dangerous to my mental health.”

You contemplated that reality for a moment, and you shook your head.

“You know how I found out about what he was doing?” you asked. “He sent me a Happy Birthday text…a spicy one, you could say. But it wasn’t my birthday.” 

“Damn,” Beau said, grimacing in sympathy. 

You tried not to, but you began tearing up. Beau wanted to brush them from your cheek as he drew closer on his horse. Instead, he settled a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he said, quiet and placating. “I’m thinking you’ve cried enough over this.”

“I just…I still feel so damn stupid,” you muttered, wiping under your eyes.  

“What, are you a Professor of Cheatin’ Bastards too?” Beau quipped. You smiled reluctantly.

“That’s not funny,” you complained. 

He flashed you a grin and allowed himself to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear when a breeze of wind blew it into your face.

“Come on. You know I’m funny,” he teased, but then, he became more serious. “It’s not your fault. Trust me, I know something about being the problem, and it’s not on you.”

Both your interest and concern were piqued.

“You and Carla?” you asked. “You’re telling me it was all on you?”

“Well, maybe not all. But like you, my ex-wife ain’t a fool,” Beau said. His eyes lowered, along with his hand from your arm. “Let’s just say, it was justified.”

Let’s just say, you contemplated. That seemed to be his favorite catchphrase.

You didn’t know if you altogether believed that. He was going to grief counseling for a reason. You wanted to ask why, more than anything, but you also didn’t want to press him on something if he didn’t want to talk about it. If he felt comfortable enough with you, someday, maybe he’d open up to you. 

So after a few minutes of savoring the view, and the moment, you returned to town together.

A few days later, Beau still had a bad feeling about Avery.

His company was being investigated by the SEC and was threatening to go under. Apparently, Avery had made “friends” with Luke on the trip, who according to Avery, let it slip that he and Paige had $15 million in cryptocurrency.

The passcode to that $15 million account was missing. Beau had more than half a mind to think Avery had made a play for it during that camping trip. Carla hadn’t known her new husband’s company was being investigated. She’d put her foot down with Avery about the lying, at least.

As a result, Beau’s only consolation in all this was that she and Emily were back in their house, while Avery was living out of a hotel in town. Beau might not be able to pin him for the stolen crypto right now, but he knew where to look for Avery when the evidence came.

The man was #1 on Beau’s punch list, and it was only getting longer.

Instead of letting those thoughts fester, he decided to actually take his lunch break, and go check in on his daughter. Denise and Cassie told him she was doing well as their summer intern.

Emily seemed to be enjoying her time helping the private investigators. She showed him her small workstation beside Denise’s desk, where she was organizing old and new files, inputting the hard copies into digital ones on Cassie’s spare laptop. Emily was also helping out with some database research on existing cases.

Satisfied that she was helping out, but wasn’t doing anything too close to actual police work, Beau took the opportunity to lean over to Denise and discreetly ask about you.

Namely, how you were doing, and if you’d called her from Chicago. He managed to hold himself from asking when you were coming back to Montana, at least.

Denise still gave him a certain smile.

“Yeah, she called yesterday. She’s coming back today actually,” she replied. “I’m planning to pick her up in a few hours.”

Beau’s lips twitched at a smile, and he nodded. “Good. That’s uh…that’s good. Tell her I said ‘welcome home.’”

Denise and Cassie shared a look, one that drew even Emily’s attention. She shot her dad a glance and noted the dumb smile on his face. One that he tucked away when he met Emily’s gaze.

“Anyway, looks like you’re doing all right here. You’re coming to stay with me tomorrow, right?” he asked her.

“Yeah, sure,” Emily agreed.

“Okay, kiddo. See ya then,” Beau said. He gave her a hug and kiss to the side of the head. Though she gave him a hug back, she watched with a bit of suspicion after he said goodbye to Cassie and Denise, strolling out the door like he was making some kind of escape.

The adults again shared a look of mutual understanding. Then Cassie smiled and grabbed her work bag.

“All right. I’ll be back in a bit. Need to check on a few leads,” she said.

After Emily and Denise waved her off, the latter made some tea and returned with a mug each for her and Emily. Denise reclaimed the seat behind her desk, but she turned towards the girl beside her.

“So, hun, how’re you doing?” Denise asked. “I mean, I know you’ve gone through a lot these past couple weeks, and we’re happy to give you a little distraction here. But are you okay?”

Emily bit her lip and turned her rolling chair towards Denise. She had to take some time with her answer. Ever since coming back from that camp, she didn’t know if she’d really answered that question honestly—not for her mom, or her dad.

“Well, on one hand, Mom kicked Avery out. Or, I guess he kicked himself out,” she said. “On the other hand, my mom and dad are getting along better than they have since before the divorce, so…there’s that.”

Emily rested her elbow on the desk in front of her, head in hand. Denise gave her a sympathetic half-smile.

“I don’t hate Avery,” Emily admitted. “I actually like him a lot. He made Mom happy again. But would it be nice if she and my dad…if we could be a family again? I mean, yeah.”

Denise was patient as she listened. She tried to keep her true thoughts on the matter inside as you came to mind, though she pushed all that into the background in order to give Emily her undivided attention. 

“At the same time, I don’t know,” Emily shrugged. “My dad’s a great person, but he’s not good at letting people in. I don’t think Mom could go through that again.”

“Go through what?” Denise asked. 

“The way my dad shut us out, after what happened to his partner,” Emily explained. Her face went from slightly sad, to wry. “Okay, yeah, my mom’s not the most patient person. But Dad still doesn’t talk about it, not even to Mom. Or to me.”

Denise had heard some small thing about Beau’s former partner from you, and even Jenny, but she didn’t know the specifics there. All she knew was it laid at the heart of Beau and Carla’s divorce.

“Well, he’s your dad,” Denise said with a sigh. “He wants to protect you, even if that means protecting you from himself.”

“Sure, okay, but he doesn’t have to though. Not all the time,” Emily said.

She could be a strong, even-keeled kid, mature for her age, but Denise saw the rare vulnerability in the girl’s eyes.

“Sometimes I wish he’d just talk to me,” Emily said. Her eyes fell away.

Denise’s heart broke for the girl. Not knowing what else to say, she scooched her chair forward and pulled Emily into a warm hug.

By the time Denise picked you up from the airport and dropped you off at your apartment, you were beyond exhaustion. Coming home from a week in your hometown in Chicago left you feeling drained. Physically, emotionally, down to your toes.

At least you were home.

It was a surprising feeling—the feeling that this was your home now. Already it felt real.

Seeing your ex will do that to you.

“So how was it?” Denise asked. She’d graciously made you dinner as well, so you didn’t have to cook or worry about eating out. You two sat on the couch in your living room while some romcom played in the background.

“Everything I thought it would be,” you replied, around a mouthful of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. You let out a heavy sigh.

It had been good to see your parents, you explained, and you’d finally been able to give your condolences to Mary’s parents in person—at the funeral.

That’s where Michael tried to corner you to hash out what would’ve been yet another argument, at the burial of all things. You had to restrain yourself from making a scene in front of Mary’s entire grieving family, as well as yours.

Denise shook her head. “That guy ain’t got an iota of shame.”

You snorted. “You’re telling me?!”

You shook your head and speared at your green beans with your fork. You couldn’t even mourn your friend in peace, for God’s sake.

“Did your parents try to get you to stay longer?” she asked.

Again, you scoffed. “Oh, yeah. They actually tried to use Mary’s death to get me to think Helena was more dangerous than Chicago.”

While you’d understood their point to an extent, your home city still maintained one of the worst crime rates in the U.S.

“Still think you made the right decision?” Denise asked. “Whatever’s in your heart about it, just know that I’m so happy to have you here.”

She took your free hand and squeezed. You managed to smile, if just a little.

“Yeah. I think so,” you replied.

Chicago would always have a place in your heart, but for better or worse, this was your new start. And you were taking it.

You woke up the next morning to a shiny new text message. Still bleary-eyed, you unlocked your phone, and you just had to smile.

It was from Beau Arlen, you were pleasantly surprised to find.

Hey there. Heard you were back in town. (Welcome home, by the way.) Just wanted to let you know that me, Cassie, and Jenny are hitting a bar tonight after shift. You’re welcome to join in. Say around 8?

Without even really thinking about it, you typed out your reply:

Sure! I’ll be there. (And thanks very much. It’s nice to know the county sheriff rolls out the welcome mat for all of Helena’s returning citizens.)

You got up and started your day. You were midway through brushing your teeth when your phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. Your lips curved into a smirk when you read Beau’s reply.

Sounds good. (And I’m happy to oblige. 😉)

You shouldn’t have been blushing at such a simple message, but it set off the butterflies regardless. You huffed and set down your toothbrush.

Damn it.

You were in trouble.

With such a nice start to your morning, you were smiling all the way into town. The place you were headed to was just down the street of Dewell & Hoyt, so you knew you had to stop in just to say hello. There you found Denise and Emily.

“Did you have a good trip?” Emily asked, after you let her go from a hug. You gave your aunt one next.

“It was…good,” you replied, with a sigh. “Mary’s at rest now.”

Your eyes stung at the thought, but you tried to blink past it, taking in a breath to steady yourself. While Denise rubbed your back, Emily squeezed your arm in comfort, leading you to give her a smile. She was a sweet girl.

“What brings you over?” Denise asked.

You shook your head to come back to yourself. You showed them the large bag you carried on your shoulder. It was full of your painting supplies.

“Well, I’m actually headed to an art studio just down the street. I looked up the lessons they were offering this week, and apparently today it’s painting on glass. Like a bowl, or a mug, or a little stained glass window. They’ve got different options.”

Emily looked intrigued. “Ooh, that sounds cool.”

“Yeah?” you said, raising a brow. “You’re welcome to come with me if you want. Unless my aunt can’t spare you, or you’d rather not. It’s fine.”

There was no pressure to your offer, but you remembered Emily being somewhat interested in your painting endeavors while on the camping trip. With everything the girl had been going through, you thought maybe she’d like something creative and fun to try to get her mind off things. You knew it was doing the same for you.

“No, that would be fun, I guess,” said Emily. She looked to Denise in askance, who waved a dismissive hand. 

“It’s okay, hun. Take the afternoon off,” she said. “I’ve got things here.”

Emily smiled and nodded.

“Okay. Let me just grab my stuff.”

You and Emily ventured together right down the street to the art studio. You paid for the $40 entrance fee each for you and Emily into the class.

You could see that she felt uncomfortable with that when you two took your seats near the back of the studio. It was pretty full, and neither of you wanted to be right at the front, preferring to hang out more chill-like in the back.

There at each long table was an easel each, after you chose what kind of glass you wanted to paint on. Emily chose a funky looking bowl, while you chose a rectangular piece of wood-framed glass.

“I’ll pay you back,” Emily said, once you two were comfortable in your respective seats. You waved her off.

“It’s okay, honey. I invited you,” you said. Then you gave her a conspiring look. “Here’s my rule of thumb, especially on dates, for example. The person who invites you should shell out.”

Emily smiled. “That makes sense to me.”

You saw the gears in her mind turning, and it reminded you of her little “summer project.” She’d told you about it a couple of times on that camping trip.

“How’s your podcast going?” you asked. The girl sighed; she chose a brush and started painting blue stripes across her glass bowl.

“Slow,” she admitted. “I’m lacking interesting subjects.”

You hummed at that. “Maybe you need a guest to help kick things off.”

Emily smiled at that. She turned to you with a gleam of excitement.

“Would you do it?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Me? I think I’d be too boring. Isn’t your podcast about relationships?”

“Well, yeah, but that was a good bit you just had,” she said. “Who pays on a date?”

You thought about it with another hum of contemplation. Suddenly you could start to see the potential in her idea. You still didn’t want to be a subject of inquiry, but you didn’t want to dim her spark either.

“Well, it would be fun if you got a man’s perspective too,” you said.

Emily brightened. Finally, someone who cared about her side project. 

“What about Dad?” she said. “He’s a guy.”

You chuckled. “Well, yes.” 

Though you wondered about the last time he’d been on a date since his divorce, or if he even was dating right now. 

The more you thought about it, the more interesting it might be to see Beau answer some of those kinds of questions. It wasn’t at all because you were curious about the man yourself…

“Maybe you’re onto something there,” you said, a smile growing on your face.

“I’ll ask him,” Emily vowed. “Maybe he’ll actually open up for once.”

She sort of muttered that last bit. It caught your attention with a wry brow raise.

“What? Your dad is as chatty as they come,” you said. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, about dumb stuff,” she said. “Try to get anything serious out of him. He’s like an old clam.”

A snort of laughter escaped you. “Old clam. That’s nice.”

Though you saw that there was something deeper there for Emily. You’d seen these kinds of moments in some of your students before. Sometimes, they felt comfortable enough with you to share what they were going through at home. In Emily’s case, it seemed like she was hurting about something, maybe for a while now.

You continued painting on your glass project, but you offered her a look of understanding.

“Remember how I told you that my dad used to be a firefighter?” you said. Emily nodded.

“Well, your dad sounds a bit like mine. He’d rather consult a bottle of Jack Daniels than anyone else, really,” you confessed. “He saw a lot of things on the job that were hard. Too hard to explain. Possibly too hard to even work through. It made him…distant, when I was a kid. I don’t think we really connected until I got older.”

And even now, your relationship with him was rocky at best, after he’d suggested you try to work it out with Michael. You and your father hadn’t truly spoken ever since.

You still gave Emily a look of encouragement.

“But, it seems like you and your dad have a better relationship than I did with mine at your age,” you said.

That fell between you both while Emily ruminated in it. She started adding gold strokes to her bowl alongside the blue in swirling patterns, and it was a really nice touch, you told her. She thanked you with a little smile.

“Did my dad tell you that he lost his partner on the job?” she asked.

You sighed. “Yes, he told me some. We didn’t go too deep into it.”

“Well, for a whole year, it was like we barely existed,” she said. “Mom tried to help him. I tried…but I guess he was a lot like your dad.”

Your lips pressed together. You were sad to hear that, but it did remind you of what Beau told you that day, when he took you horseback riding.

“Well, maybe not all. But like you, my ex-wife ain’t a fool,” Beau had said. “Let’s just say, it was justified.”

You now nodded in understanding as you hummed. Let’s just say.

“He seems better now,” you remarked. 

“Yeah. He cleaned up when Mom left him,” Emily said. “I guess that’s what it took to snap him out of it.”

You shook your head, and you kept painting.  

You could understand Carla, all too well. It just hurt you, now that you knew what a good man Beau was. Your sympathetic heart said he didn’t deserve to get left behind when he needed his family the most.

However, the more logical part of you knew that sometimes, love just wasn’t enough to keep you tied to someone who didn’t seem to want to help themselves. When it felt like they were giving you no choice.

“Anyway, you’ll be my other guest, right?” Emily asked with a smile. “For the podcast.”

You barely resisted the urge to groan. As much as you preferred not to put yourself out there, you didn’t want to discourage the girl in her project.

“Well…okay. If you get your dad on, I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” you said, your lips forming a grin. You two continued to paint while chatting about Emily’s favorite subjects in school. English, sadly, was not one of them, but you weren’t offended by it. Shakespeare wasn’t for everyone.

“I’m actually meeting your dad for drinks tonight. If you want, I’ll ask him about being on the podcast, try to soften him up for you,” you offered. “Though I’m sure he’ll do it if you asked.”

Emily considered you with a bit more scrutiny. “Are you…seeing my dad?”

“Oh, no,” you said immediately. Just the suggestion had your cheeks warming. “Cassie and Jenny will be there too. It’s nothing like that.”

“Sure,” Emily said. She gave an awkward laugh. 

“Really, Em. He and I are just friends,” you promised. 

Even if that thought stung a little.

Despite what you told Emily, you did put a fair amount of effort into your appearance to meet your new friends that night for drinks.

You even put on your favorite red lipstick with some dark wash jeans, a black pair of ankle boots, and a black lace top to match, complete with off-the-shoulder sleeves. 

Cassie whistled lowly when she saw you walk into the bar from her seat in one of the booths. She smiled and nudged Beau, whose face slackened when he saw you. 

God help him, you were sexy as hell in black. 

Black lace, he corrected himself. Your hair was a bit wild and teased out. The flash of red was a pleasant surprise, momentarily drawing his eyes to your lips. He felt the back of his neck heat up, but he tried to hide it all behind a friendly smile. He found himself sliding out of the booth to hug you in greeting. 

Goddamn, she smells good too, he thought. Was that your perfume, or your shampoo? Whatever it was, he liked it more than was good for him.

He managed to let you go though, and he grinned at your somewhat shy smile. You moved on to greet Cassie next, then Jenny, before you slid into the booth next to her and across from Beau and Cassie. 

“How was Chicago?” Jenny asked. It brought the mood down some. You gave a true smile, however tinged with melancholy. It was still very difficult to talk about Mary, but since everyone at the table knew the full story, it was easier to be honest.

“Chicago was needed. It was good, in a way. I got to lay her to rest,” you replied. “But I’m glad to be back.”

“Glad to have you back,” Cassie said. She passed you a tequila shot. 

“Ooh, nice.” You weren’t usually one for hard liquor, but tonight, you thought you could let yourself go a little. You downed the shot in one. 

“Eyy, good job,” Beau said, raising his whiskey with a wink. You laughed in slight embarrassment and wiped the corner of your mouth.

While Cassie called over the closest server to get them started with some appetizers for the table, you turned to Beau.

“You know, I did a painting class with Emily today,” you told him. “She did great! Has a nice little bowl to put her jewelry in.”

He raised his brows, smiling. “Is that so? What do you know. My little girl’s a budding artist. Is she gonna go all broody and steal even more of my vinyl?”

You shook your head in amusement.

“She’s a teenager. They don’t need any excuses to be broody,” Jenny remarked.

“Fair enough,” Beau chuckled.  

“Actually, she asked me to be on her podcast,” you said. “She wanted to see if you’d join in for a segment.”

The man looked uncertain at that. You understood his reservations, because you had the same ones. Cassie and Jenny looked amused by the idea of him getting recorded and put on social media by his sixteen-year-old.

“Look, I know, but she just wants to ask us a few questions,” you said. “Like who should pay on a date, that sort of thing.”

Beau rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands. The humor in his green eyes shone under the soft gold lamplight.

“Well, that’s easy. I was raised to be a gentleman,” he said. “I wouldn’t feel right letting a woman pay for me.”

You tilted your head in interest. A smile started to play on your lips as you leaned forward on your folded arms.

“Huh. Well, I think whoever asks the person out should pay,” you posed. “That doesn’t necessarily mean the man pays every time.”

Beau’s lips twitched, but there was a subtle shake of his head.

“I don’t know. That just doesn’t sit right with me for some reason,” he said. 

You turned to Jenny and Cassie for some support, and they both gave Beau an unimpressed look.

“You mean to tell me you wouldn’t let me pay for my own drinks?” you asked. “I have a job. I make money, same as you.”

At that, Beau chuckled. “Hey now, I didn’t say you couldn’t pay for your own. But you’re certainly not paying for mine.”

“So in your world, I can’t ever treat my man if I want to?” you challenged.

“What, you mean to tell me you don’t like getting spoiled?” Beau countered.

When you smiled, it had an amused, almost flirtatious edge that began to make him hot under the collar. 

“Occasionally, sure I do,” you replied. “But then again, who doesn’t like getting spoiled now and again?”

“Doesn’t have to be about who pays either,” Cassie interjected. 

“It sure doesn’t,” Jenny agreed. The women laughed and clinked their drinks together, leaving Beau with a warming face under his beard. He once again chuckled, conceding defeat. 

Conversation spiraled from there, in which Jenny mentioned something about her and Beau’s latest finished case about Brett, a skydiving, former firefighter’s murder.

It was a coverup for a larger scheme within his old firehouse—where firefighters had been looting homes after they’d been cleared out of a fire. Brett’s friend had been killed on one of those jobs, and not by accident either.

“That’s awful,” you said with a frown, once she finished explaining.

Against your will, it made you think of your ex-fiancé, Michael. He was still an active firefighter. While he had been a shitty boyfriend, at the very least you’d never had reason to question his integrity as a first responder.

“Yeah, it was hard on the father too. He’s the unit chief, and the whole operation was happening on his watch,” Beau said. “One of his own firefighters killed his son. It’s damn near unthinkable.”

Beau’s mood had shifted the moment Jenny brought up this case, you noticed. He was staring mostly into his half-empty whiskey glass, as if contemplating a refill.

“We said we wouldn’t talk shop tonight,” Cassie said. She seemed to notice his downshift as well. She got up out of her seat in the booth. “Let me get the next round. Another tequila?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. You’d probably pace yourself this time.  

“Not for me, I’m good with this,” Beau said. 

He held that whiskey between his hands, and you were glad that he was going slow. Your conversation with Emily about his own bout with grief and loss was still fresh in your mind. While your heart broke for him, you were also a little worried for him. Had this latest case opened up some old wounds?

“I’ll go with you,” Jenny said. You slid out of the booth so Jenny could as well. It left you and Beau to talk, while Jenny and Cassie went up to the bar together.

Cassie tried to get the bartender’s attention, but she glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine. Why?” Jenny replied. But she wasn’t meeting Cassie’s gaze. She was watching you and Beau, almost in melancholy.

Cassie’s brows furrowed as she realized what was happening. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before, considering both of their professions. 

“Aw, Jenny…” Cassie breathed. She wondered just how long her friend had been harboring some feelings for Beau Arlen.

Knowing she was “caught,” Jenny gave a wry smile.

“Don’t. It’s not a big deal,” she said quietly. “He likes her.”

Cassie sighed. “I think so. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“He deserves something good,” Jenny said. Her smile was a bit more genuine this time. Cassie nodded in agreement.

“So does she, after what she’s gone through.”

“So how are you doing?” you asked Beau. It was the first time you’d been alone with this man since that horse riding lesson last week, and part of you was feeling a bit nervous.

Just friends, like you told Emily. You had to remind yourself. Just friends…until evidence points to the contrary.

At your question, Beau heaved a sigh, running a hand over his face. Suddenly he looked more tired than he did before. The laugh lines around his eyes looked more like the telltale signs of stress.

“Well, first off, we found the missing backpacker,” he said. “It seems the poor young man fell down a cliff while hiking.”

Your brows furrowed and you covered your mouth with a hand. “Oh my God.”

Beau nodded in grim confirmation. His gaze met yours.

“But I also wanted to tell you this in person when you got back. I’ve also got a silver lining on our mountain man, Walter,” he continued. “He confessed to murdering Paige. He’s keeping tight-lipped about Mary and Luke, but we’ve got him dead set to rights on at least one of the murders.”

You processed that with a shaky breath. Then you nodded.

“We’re gonna keep working on him from every angle, I promise,” Beau said. Just like he’d promised you before—that he would get justice for Mary. You believed him.

“Thank you,” you said. Your gaze softened, and you contemplated laying your hand over his on the table. You just barely stopped yourself.

Instead, you cleared your throat and swiped some of your hair over your shoulder.

“Any other news, hot off the press?” you joked, trying to alleviate the heaviness in your heart. Beau quirked a smile. He leaned back in his seat and carded a hand through his hair.

“Ahh. Well…you know I’m investing my ex-wife’s husband,” he said drolly, sipping his whiskey. “And that’s going about as well as it sounds. I can’t get into the details of course…but he might be dealing in something shady.”

Your eyes widened. “Shady, or dangerous?”

Beau realized how he’d let that last bit slip out. He wished he hadn’t. Not only did he not want to worry you, but he didn’t want you anywhere near his open cases.

“I’m keeping close tabs on Carla and Emily just to be safe,” he admitted. 

Your face became the picture of concern. But before you could respond, a man approached the table, tall and lean, with a shaggy cut of dark blonde hair. He wore a pair of faded jeans, boots, and a gray and red Chicago FD shirt. 

Your face paled, and your mouth parted in surprise. 

“Hey there, stranger,” he said with a smile. 

“Michael?” you gasped.

AN: 🫣 Yep, we're going there lol. But how did you like the horseback riding lesson? Or her little day out with Emily? Or the bit of fun at the bar, before Michael showed up?

You'll definitely be seeing more of that guy in Part 5...

Next Time:

“Michael?” you gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Beau’s eyes widened. Michael was younger than him, closer to your age. And cocky too.  

“Hey, baby,” Michael said. His smile quirked with charm, but his next words were anything but charming. 

“We need to talk,” he said, raising his brows.

“We actually don’t,” you retorted in a firmer voice. Cold even. You straightened in your seat. 

Beau saw none of your softness and good humor from earlier. This was a different woman, and he was actually proud of you for standing your ground. Though he realized then that he’d never gotten on your bad side. (He hoped he never did.)

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

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[gogogodzilla]

Chapter 2

Summary: You watch an android interrogate another android and try not to think too hard about how it makes your heart race. ✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ wattpad ✧ ✧ previous chapter ✧next chapter ✧

You clung to the folder of evidence as you entered the observation room, looking at the android they'd captured. That Connor captured.

"Hey, sweetheart," Gavin greeted with a grin.

You glared at Gavin, not wanting to deal with his shit today. You never specifically agreed to the nickname, but it didn't bother you too much. Usually.

Chris watched from his chair, chuckling. You huffed and grabbed the chair next to Chris, slightly shoving Gavin out of the way. He uncrossed his arms and shoved you back, causing you to almost miss the chair. Your cheeks flushed at the near miss and your eyes flicked to Connor watching silently in the back of the observation room. You give Gavin the finger as you turn your chair to face the interrogation room.

"Is he making any progress?" You asked, your eyes flickering between Gavin and Chris, waiting for a response. Gavin scoffed, but before he could answer, Hank slammed his hands against the table, causing you to jump.

"Say something, goddamnit!" Hank sighed, pushing himself up from his chair, "Fuck it, I'm outta here." Chris buzzed him through as you focused in on the android. Scars littered its arms, and some of the machinery peeked through the more roughed-up parts. "We're wasting our time interrogating a machine, we're getting nothing out of it!" Hank moved towards the chair next to Chris, stopping once he realized you were in it. You moved to get up, but Hank shook his head, telling you to stay. He took his place in the back of the room, silently seething.

"We could send our dear Doctor in there to talk to it, finally put that fancy degree to use," Gavin responded, a sneer plastered on his face.

You stared at him. Maybe that wasn't such a horrible idea. Interrogating the deviant would give you a better idea of how they ticked. No guarantee the deviant would cooperate, though. You weighed your options.

"Hell no," Hank answered for you, "it's our job to interrogate the suspects, not the doctor's." You deflated a little in your seat.

"C'mon," Gavin urged, "they're authorized to carry a gun, why can't they interrogate the suspects."

You couldn't believe you were actually going to agree with Gavin but before you could argue your case, Connor spoke up, "I could try questioning it." Gavin barked out a laugh at the suggestion, sending you a look like, can you fucking believe this guy? You sent him a similar look.

Hank sighed and threw a hand up, "What do we have to lose? Go ahead, suspect's all yours." Your mouth dropped as Hank gave Connor the approval. Your eyes moved from Hank to Gavin, to Connor, and then back again in disbelief.

"Lieutenant..." you started, ready to plead your case. Hank raised a hand, stopping your argument before it left your mouth. You turned back and crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. You watched as Connor put his hand against the scanner, the skin on his hand peeling back to reveal the white, plastic frame. You looked away, unnerved. Stupid android.

It was uncanny, watching Connor interact with the deviant. He towered over the deviant while he flipped through the evidence folder. Like a killer whale toying with its prey, Connor took his time before beginning his interrogation. He slowly took his seat, his eyes never leaving the deviant's face.

"You're damaged," Connor's eyes shifted to the deviant's forearms, "Did your owner do that? Did he beat you?" Connor's voice was soft as he gazed at the deviant. It made your heart clench, it seemed like Connor actually cared about the deviant.

Just another ploy by Cyberlife to make him appear more human, you thought, clenching your fists.

You watched Connor's hands as he grabbed the evidence folder and expertly flipped it around to show the deviant. He gently opened the folder, folding his hands in front of him. He had beautiful hands. Well, you supposed that was the point. Cyberlife had a knack for perfection.

"You recognize him?" He asked. "It's Carlos Ortiz. Stabbed, 28 times," the harshness in his voice surprised you, "That was written on the wall in his blood." The deviant's LED rapidly flashed scarlet before switching to amber. You wondered if androids could feel remorse.

Connor continued, "If you won't talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory."

"NO!" The deviant exclaimed as he let out quick, panicked breaths. Everyone in the observation room jumped at the deviant's unexpected response. "No, please don't do that..." The deviant begged, his LED flashing red.

You leaned forward in your chair, the deviant's pleas tugging on your heartstrings. He appeared to be scared. Could androids even feel fear? Almost as if he read your thoughts, the deviant spared a look towards the mirror, your eyes meeting, even if he didn't know it.

"What..." The deviant paused, fear lacing his voice, "What are they gonna do to me?" His eyes jumped to Connor's as he came to a realization. "They're gonna destroy me, aren't they?" He whispered.

Your chest tightened, they were going to destroy him. We were going to destroy him. Just for defending himself.

Connor's gaze never wavered, "They're going to disassemble you to look for problems in your biocomponents... They have no choice if they want to understand what happened." His response was methodical, like he was reciting from some form of a handbook, How to Scare the Absolute Shit of Any Android For Dummies- A Guide By Cyberlife.

The android looked up at Connor again, his voice wavering, "Why did you tell them you found me? Why couldn't you just have left me there?"

Connor straightened slightly, as if the question offended him. "I was programmed to hunt deviants like you. I just accomplished my mission." His mission, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. His mission is scaring the daylights out of this poor android.

"I don't wanna die," the deviant murmured.

Connor's voice was gentle now, "Then talk to me."

The deviant hesitated, struggling to get out the words, "I... I can't..."

"I understand how you felt," Connor leaned in, "You were overcome by anger and frustration." Connor was waving his arm now, "No one can blame you for what happened." You desperately wished that were the case. Cyberlife viewed the deviant as nothing more than a piece of defective machinery. A problem to be torn apart and solved.

Connor looked down at his hands before continuing, his voice sympathetic, "Listen, I'm not judging you. I'm on your side... All I want is the truth."

"Fucking figures," Gavin huffed, "damn android said it's on-"

"He's building rapport, doing whatever he can to get a confession," you butted in. You grinned, "Maybe you should take some notes, Detective." Hank smirked from his position next to you, and Chris pressed his lips tightly together attempting not to laugh.

"If you remain silent, there is nothing I can do to help you!" Connor began to raise his voice, his words getting quicker, "They're gonna shut you down for good! You'll be dead! Do you hear me? Dead!"

For someone who insisted androids weren't alive, he emphasized the fact that this android would die. Perhaps he's trying to trigger that trepidation every being has; the fear of one's existence quickly coming to an end. Connor let out a sigh, tilting his head in feigned pity. Connor moved towards the mirror, his eyes boring into yours. You wondered if he could see you through the mirror.

The deviant finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "He tortured me every day... I did whatever he told me, but there was always something wrong." The deviant shook his head slightly, "Then, one day... He took a bat and started hitting me. For the first time," the deviant paused, "I felt scared... Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die."

Your heart was racing as the deviant began recounting his abuse. Why was it wrong for this android to defend himself?

The deviant continued, "So, I grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach... I felt better so I stabbed him again and again until he collapsed... There was blood everywhere." The deviant's eyes shifted as if he was reliving the murder as he spoke.

"Fucking finally," Gavin huffed, "Let's get this show on the road."

"Shut up," You hissed, glaring at him.

Connor leaned forward, "The sculpture in the bathroom, you made it right? What does it represent?"

"It's an offering... An offering so I'll be saved..." The deviant replied, meeting Connor's gaze. You supposed androids, or deviants at least, weren't so different from humans, seeking out someone, something, to save them when they didn't have the means to save themselves. A life preserver to grip onto when the waves got too rough.

Connor persisted, "The sculpture was an offering... An offering to whom?"

"To rA9," the deviant said, "Only rA9 can save us."

A god amongst androids.

Connor finished his interrogation and leaned back in his chair. "I'm done," he said coolly. He moved to stand up, his gaze never wavering from the deviant's face. Connor flattened his hand against the biometric scanner, his skin once again peeling back to reveal the pristine white plastic underneath.

Everyone in the observation room jumped up to meet him at the door.

"Chris, lock it up," Gavin barked. You kept your distance from the deviant and Connor, taking up a position behind Hank in the doorway. Chris dutifully took the keys off his belt and he began to unlock the restraints.

"Alright, let's go," Chris said, moving to grab the deviant.

The deviant quickly pulled his arm away, "Leave me alone! Don't touch me!" He said, his LED flashing red as he moved away from Chris's grasp.

Gavin's jaw tightened, as he began to move towards the pair. "Hank," you whispered, the warning evident in your tone. He nodded slightly as he continued watching the scene play out, ready to jump in if necessary.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gavin fumed, "Move it!"

"Okay," Chris hesitated, slowly moving to grab the android's biceps. The two began to struggle, and your heart began to race. This was going to end badly.

"You shouldn't touch it," Connor interjected, "It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened."

Gavin turned to Connor, a scowl etched on his face, "Stay outta this, got it? No fuckin' android is gonna tell me what to do." Gavin turned back to watch Chris struggle with the deviant, agitation gracing his features.

"You don't understand," Connor insisted, "If it self-destructs, we won't get anything out of it!"

Your fingers moved toward your side, ready to grab your gun if you needed it. "Hank..." You hissed. Connor wasn't the only stubborn one here. The deviant was becoming more stressed by the second and Gavin was only making it worse.

"I told you to shut your fucking mouth!" Gavin shouted at Connor, shoving a finger in his face. He turned his fury to Chris, "You gonna move this asshole or what?"

"I'm trying," Chris hissed through his teeth, his frustration clear.

Connor rushed towards Chris, prying his hands off of the deviant, "I can't let you do that! Leave it alone now!" Chris stumbled back, confused.

Gavin pulled out his pistol, aiming it at Connor, "I warned you, motherfucker!"

"Hank!" you insisted, your hand moving to unbuckle your gun. Goddamn you, Gavin.

He nodded toward you, "That's enough!" He ordered like Gavin and Connor were children arguing over a toy.

"Mind your own business, Hank," Gavin seethed. You gripped the handle of your gun, muscles tensing.

"I said," Hank emphasized, drawing his own gun, "That's enough." Gavin snarled as his eyes moved between Connor's and Hank's.

"Fuck," he whispered, enraged at the stalemate. He pointed at Hank, "You're not getting away with it this time." Gavin sent a glare at Connor before stalking towards the exit. You moved your hand away from your weapon, Gavin's eyes met yours as he passed, softening only slightly. As much of an asshole as he was, he was still your friend.

Connor moved towards the deviant who was cowering in the corner. He crouched to the deviant's level, his voice tender, "Everything is alright now. It's over now. No one is going to hurt you." He was so gentle. It made you quiver, your chest aching.

He stood up, "Please, don't touch it. Let it follow you out of the room and it won't cause any trouble." Chris took a few steps back as the deviant got up. The deviant whispered something to Connor as he passed, his LED turning blue for the first time.

You leaned back against the wall of the observation room, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Holy shit," you remarked.

Hank let out a sigh and his lips quirked up a little bit, something you'd miss if you hadn't known him for so long. He shook his head, leaving the interrogation room. You sent Connor a tight-lipped smile before you followed Hank out, sparing a glance at Connor on your way out.

You hoped Connor was here to stay

[georgiapeach30513]

Family Group Chat

Boys Will Be Boys

James:  I did it.  I tried a new tossed salad today.  I'm telling you, I could eat salad everyday. Iris makes the best salad.

Carter:  You do love your greens, buddy.

James:  The dressing was extra sweet and juicy today.

Ransom:  Tell Iris to send Kitten the recipe.  I know she was wanting a more sweet dressing for Sunday dinner.

James:  I'm sure she'd let you toss her salad with a sweet dressing.  Although, I get the impression that Kitten loves her some creamy dressing.

Blade:  Gross

Ransom:  What's wrong with creamy dressing?  Your mom is a big fan of that

Blade:  I need fucking therapy.  Where's Bucky randomly asking to leave the chat??? BUCKY! JOSHUA??

Ransom: I know you like to be healthy son, maybe you should ask your sister what she's feeding James.

Blade: Bye.

Carter:  Story got me a rose today, and it was the prettiest rose I've ever seen

James: Was it all soft and freshly bloomed?

Carter: Of course.  Only the best.  Story always has the prettiest rose petals

Blade: Um...this is Lo.  James can you tell me or Blade, whatever you're comfortable with, the directions on how you make this salad, please?  I've always been curious ☺

Carter: The rose had fresh morning dew on the petals

Ransom:  🤔🤔 Where did this rose come from?

Beck: I bet she picked it out of the garden.

Ransom:  MY garden??

Chris: 😂😂😂😂 You did help grow this rose

Blade:  Yeah Well, I got Lo a new strand of pearls. It looked so pretty on her neck

Beau: Arleigh's looking for a strand herself.

Blade: I can help you look 😉

Owin:  Wait a minute

Chris:  😂😂😂 Oop 🙈

Owin: Blade?  Beau???

Joshua:  Easy there killer.  Pearls are a nice touch every now and then

James:  NO!  Get him outta here

Beck:  I was actually wanting to try a different commute to work

Blade:  What??

Beau:  Beck is confused

Carter: 👀👀 Is this a back entrance to work?

Beck: Yes!  Aster is scared.

James:  Smaller tunnel, huh?

Beck:  Yes!  She's so unsure if she wants me to commute that way I told her that you commute that way and Iris is fine James HELP ME! I tried it once, but Az was so unsure, she made me turn around

Ransom:  Aster is a baby.  Tell her to get over it

Beck: Right away sir.

Chris:  Don't do that That won't help your case. You're trying to get her to try a new commute, not talk about her father.

Ransom:  Aster loves her father.

Chris: Just ease her into the new commute.  Make sure you've had a recent oil change.  Take your time, but get her comfortable.  She'll eventually come around to the new way

Owin: Mr. D I love you

Ransom:  She's my kid.  I just don't understand why she has to be a big baby.

Beck: She is such a sweet girl when she's being a baby.

Owin:  🙈🙈

Ransom:  🤔🤔 I'm confused

Chris: 😂😂

Joshua:  Oh dear....

Chris:  Beck, buddy, if you want you can always treat her like a big baby after the commute.  It'll make her feel better to be petted.

Ransom:  What's this commute?  I'll drive it just to assure her it's fine

Beck: Uhh...I don't know the exact address But I don't think you'd be a fan of this commute sir

James: Yeah, there's tight spaces in that tunnel

Ransom: I am a bit claustrophobic

Blade:  I hate all of you

Steve:  Why did this conversation go from salads, to roses, to pearls, to a commute I was trying to catch up, but this is nonsense

Joshua: Emy had a big slab of steak the other day.  It made her pass out from having to use her mouth so much.

Bucky:  and you guys think I'm dumb

James:  My sister is a vegetarian 😡😡

Owin:  Uh oh.  Caught again!

Joshua:  Oooh, sorry James.  She's not a vegetarian.   Not even close.  She has meat like everyday

Chris:  Ah, the meat sweats, classic.

Steve: What???

Ransom:  Bucky knows something I don't know.  I don't like it Bucky!  Spill it

*James leaves chat*

*Carter leaves chat*

*Beck leaves chat*

Blade:  Cowards

Beau: Pitiful

Curtis:  Bucky, what's going on??

*Beau leaves chat*

Chris:  😂😂😂 Beau Beau still scared of Curtis

Ari:  He should be scared of me! Blade!!!

Chris:  🍿🍿🍿

*Blade leaves chat*

Ransom:  Wait a minute.   Chris brought out the popcorn!!! Bucky??!!

Bucky:  They're speaking in code Tossing a salad is another name for eating ass

Chris: 😂😂😂 Ran, how you feeling daddy-o??

Bucky: Pearls...Blade is cumming on Lo

Ari:  Beau mentioned pearls??

Joshua:  Aren't you and Curtis Doms??

Curtis: He's a switch.  I'm a Dom What does that have to do with anything

Joshua:  I’m assuming a strand of pearls has happened a lot

Ari:  Especially before we decided to get pregnant

Owin:  🤢🤢 DAD!!

Bucky:  Story doesn't have a rose bush.  I've seen her garden

Owin:  😂😂 You sure you've seen her garden Buck?? I don't know if Carter will like you looking at her garden.

Chris:  Story doesn't have any bushes

Ransom:............

Chris: Oh come on!  Everyone knows she hates body hair and had it lasered off her whole body Morning dew???  Really?  There's only one rose that Carter is worried about

Ransom:  😡😡

Bucky: I thought he was talking about an actual rose

Chris:  🤦🏻‍♂️

Ransom: Not only are they disgusting, but I will kill them ALL of them!

Steve: You literally named your wife after the fact you could make her pussy purr

*Blade leaves chat*

Owin:  High five Mr. D!

Ransom:  Shut up

Chris:  😂😂😂 And now everyone calls her Kitten

Ransom:  It's cute!!

Steve: It's what you called her pussy!

Ransom:  Wrong...sometimes I called it a kitty cat

Bucky:  Why do we always have to do this??  It's not fun

Chris:  I think I'm going to eat some salad

*Chris leaves chat*

Joshua: What the fuck 😂😂

Owin: Where do you find these men?

Ransom:  GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!

Steve:  Ransom.... You're at my house

Ransom: I was talking to Chris.

Bucky:  Who left the chat.  He didn't hear you.  

Owin:  Unless you screamed.  Did you scream??

Ransom: I make my wife scream

*Ransom leaves chat*

Owin:  He's such a tease

Curtis: I made her scream, too

Owin: 😲😲😲

*Curtis leaves chat*

Frank:  Made her scream first

*Frank leaves chat*

Owin: He seriously just pops up whenever the fuck he wants to doesn't he??

Bucky:  Go home

Steve: Made her scream on my fingers

*Steve leaves chat*

Owin: Ahh!!  What is this? I'm about to call Mrs. D!

Ari:  Son, let it go

Owin:  Dad...

Ari:  no

*Ari leaves chat*

Joshua:  You ask too many questions

Owin:  It fascinates me.  Speaking of which.  You need to try a different angle

Joshua:  What??

Owin: I came across this video. I saw your couch, and a picture of the dogs You do great work

*Joshua leaves chat*

Owin:  Oh come on!!

[beaubaptiste]

There was something about Gabriel that fascinated Beau. While she hadn’t had the best luck in long term relationships, she didn’t really have a problem getting one night stands when she wanted them. If she had to really do a deep dive into her dating history and the approach she now had because of it, she would come to the realization rather quickly that she had long since given up on the idea of love, a stable relationship, a family, and everything else most people were thinking about at thirty-two. She pretty much figured that when the time was right she would get knocked up and continue her bloodline, as the house needed someone to take care of it, and nothing good would come of letting the line die with her and leaving it to some poor, unsuspecting stranger. 

Still, even though she had assumed she’d had everything figured out, the simple fact that Gabriel was making her wait, showing off in a sense. It was almost annoying how covertly smug he was being. Beau would never let it show, but she had let it get to her head long ago that she was pretty. She’d brought a lot of men to their knees, and although Gabriel too, seemed to be smitten with her, he was holding himself back. 

His comment brought a grin to her face, her cheeks warming up slightly at the idea. It wasn’t that she was above blushing, but he had a way about him that made her feel silly. “ The second round? You got that much confidence in your stamina, huh?” She teased.  She nibbled more on the side dishes, going back to the spicier things after sampling them all. “ Well, most men would have paid the bill and taken me outta here after that, but you’re clearly not most men.” She shrugged. “ But I’m gonna hold out hope that if I behave a lil’ bit that you’ll reward me with some dick when the night’s over. I didn’t have my legs for a kiss on the front step.” She smiled.

Serving him some of the sides that she’d taste tested and approved of, Isabeau was slowly becoming enticed by the smell of the cooked meat. As much as she complained and vocalized her love of cooking, she had to admit ( albeit begrudgingly) that he was right; it was a little bit nice to be taken out and cooked for. “ The faster you eat, the faster you can leave…” She echoed with a smirk. “ Hope you don’t think I’ll say that to you when the night’s over.” She chuckled.

Decided to go with the flow, since he wasn’t going to give in, Beau clicked her chopsticks together before digging in. As expected, the food was as good as it smelled. The meat was tender in spite of how much he’s cooked it to her liking — something most people were modified by. Still, what little she knew about Asian culture, she knew that the grade, cut, and quality of meat used for their dishes were all the highest they could be. It pained her to say, but she almost — almost — ruined it by treating it like a tough piece of cheap steak.

“Mmm… Damn that’s good…” She moaned softly as the meat seemed to melt on her tongue. “ It’s like they fed the cow nothin’ but butter. There’s such a good flavor.” She mused. Shaking her head at the delight the food gave her, Beau chewed and swallowed before picking at the vegetables. “ So…” She paused. It had been a while, and as cringy as it was, she was trying to remember some typical first date questions she could ask. “ Tell me more about you. Are your parents from here or did they come from somewhere else? Do you have siblings? Tell me all the basic stuff people normally break the ice with when they aren’t trying to get in your pants.” Beau laughed. 

“That’s the impression you’re getting?” He shot back, focused eyes giving her a quick glance. He laughed to himself, something he seemed to do a lot this evening. Maybe it was to the effect of pure attraction but desire aside, he found her pleasant and genuinely funny. Deep down he fought the intrusive thought that he might be too smitten too fast. There was nothing to deny and she left no area gray, the first of many things he liked about her.

“You can get back shots the second round,” his tone was content, he spoke of the act like it already happened, almost as if they’d built a routine of it. “I wanna see your face the first time.” With a turn of another sizzling cut of meat, Gabriel slid his ring and pinky to the side to touch her hand, holding the utensil with what fingers were left. A few seconds later he adjusted another then fixed it on her plate carefully. “Listen,” he sighed with a growing smirk, pointing the prongs in her face. “You can even take a picture of me sleeping so long as I’m still wearing my chonies.”

“A nun..” He added while her chopsticks pointed back at him. Gabriel opened his mouth and nodded, slow and expectant like he’d been taking her words anywhere other than his gut and below his belt. “Now I’m a nun.” His shock was a measure of imitation, and he leaned in, careful to keep his tone between the two of them. “You’re fondling me on the first date and I’m a nun.” he teased. “Taking advantage of me.” He added, picking a few strips of meat to his own plate. He knew she’d be even more brazen than him and for now he couldn’t handle another foot, much less a hand, from creating yet another problem before they left. He wanted to feel he accomplished, to be able to say they’d done it even if it seemed like the footnote of the night.

There was something so delicate, almost sacred the way she moved things around her with her hands. It wasn’t something all that remarkable or even noticeable, and yet Gabriel found himself watching her fingers as she moved all the little pieces around on her plate. “She likes hard meat,” he snickered. “Yeah that tracks.” Maybe it was the same way he watched her with silent reverence when she worked in the kitchen, how inclined and involved he felt when watching her work with her hands. Even though he was prodding back at her, his eyes hadn’t left their fixation of what she was doing.

After he tore his eyes from her hands, he looked back up at her with a smile that knew it would be met with some push back. “See and I knew you were going to say that,” he shook his head and bit into a piece, smile still plastered on his face. “We’re getting dinner so you get a night off from cooking and cleaning. The reason we’re here is because I’ve had your cooking.” He was messing with her now, but he had the sense to assume she knew there were many more reasons than that. “You can cook for me tomorrow when we’re having breakfast but not tonight. Maybe, maybe you can microwave something.” Aside from his brief fascination with her little fingers, Gabriel soaked in her radiant smile, body covered in a sheen, if she was under better lighting she might be glowing. “The faster you eat the faster we can leave.” he reminded her warmly. “I’m in no rush. I like watching you eat. Everything burnt enough for you?”

[sockablock]

(TW for panic attacks and discussions about trauma)

— — —

The thing is, Beau's friends are shit fighters.

To be clear—she's not saying that they're bad at fighting, gods know Veth's a force of nature with her crossbow and all of the spell-slingers can kill with a word—it's just that when it comes to fighting, actual fighting, that down-and-dirty fist-on-flesh shit, her friends suck. Most of 'em just run, or they’d sweet-talk a surrender, or go back to slinging spells.

Beau would never admit she misses the Soul, but at least those people knew how to block. At least Dairon would make her work for it, wouldn't tell her to please, gods, Beau, stop punching me, I give!

Fjord's better these days, but not good enough.

Which is why, on their third morning back in Nicodranas, when Beau opens the door to see Yasha looking restless, she knows exactly what's up.

"Should I get my staff?"

Yasha shrugs. She usually does.

"I'll grab it. Down in five."

Beau considers grabbing some toast too, but she remembers how antsy Yasha seemed and figures she should try to avoid puking in Marion’s yard.

Yasha is stretching when she gets there. The gate swings behind her with a gentle clunk, and she kicks her shoes off, curls her toes in the grass. The sun is barely broken above rooftops and towers, and the first chime of church bells ring out overhead.

Beau yawns a little, but it’s just for flavor. Mind games. She’s not actually sleepy.

“We do not have to—” 

She quickly waves her hand. “It’ll wake me up. You know, get the blood pumping.”

Yasha smiles a little at that. It’s always such a small one, but it’s getting to be familiar.

“I got up early. I couldn’t sleep. Er...sorry.”

Beau doubles her effort to be dismissive. “Don’t apologize to me, Yasha. C’mon. You think I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to?”

This seems to be a winning argument. Yasha nods, like she can’t imagine Beau doing anything she doesn’t want.

Maybe it’s the crisp ocean breeze, maybe it’s the way they circle each other in the yard. Maybe it’s the fresh brush of gauze on her fists.

Beau wants to win.

She dives in, pulls low, uses her quick movement to catch Yasha off-guard and get in as closely as she can. Yasha’s tall, broad, strong as an ox, and even holding back, she could wind Beau with a punch. She presses even closer, limiting Yasha’s motions, sweeps out a leg and cuts up when Yasha moves. The two of them duck and weave and push, neither allowing the other an inch, fists flying, blows being blocked and sweat beginning to pour down their backs. Beau lands a hit that leaves Yasha grunting, then stumbles when a wild haymaker knocks her back. It’s clear that Yasha was never taught any form, just scraped it all together by surviving on the moors and her chaotic movement, high endurance, and reckless confidence just make her deadlier.

Beau tries to close in again, but a lucky kick forces her a pace too far. Her knuckles are bruising in that numb, seething way, and so she darts to the side, grabs her staff, vaults up and then arcs her foot to Yasha’s face—

The dance starts again, this time hardwood hitting forearms and on anyone else, Beau might even feel guilty about it. But Yasha barely seems to register the thwack, her teeth bared in a sideways grin, her eyes hard and excited and alive. Beau’s probably wearing the same expression. She hears herself laughing, and knows that she is. Up-swing, down-swing, slide left, throw a punch, block one, dart back, duck and then—

Yasha’s fist catches her right in the gut, sends Beau lurching flat into the dirt. She chokes her own breath, coughs up dust, barely gets an elbow up with Yasha leaning over her, blotting out the sun, raising Beau’s staff for a finishing strike—

Halts.

It’s like watching a tower fall. Yasha staggers back. She drops the staff. She lifts her hands and stares at her palms and Beau hears a mangled breath. Her knees give. She collapses on herself.

Beau scrambles up, aching limbs forgotten.

“Yasha?” she says. “Yasha? Are you—is—what’s wrong?”

Yasha sucks in more air, but that just seems to make things worse. Her shoulders tremble and her lungs sound ragged.

“Aw, shit,” says Beau, “I mean—fuck—uh—”

She half-runs, half-crawls, ‘til she’s at Yasha’s side. She wants to put her hand on Yasha’s arm, thinks better of it, panics a little more. She wishes she were Jester. She wishes she were Cad. They’d know what to do, they’d be better at this than her, anyone, hell, Marius would be better at this than her—

But it’s her, and everyone’s still in the house, so she shakes her head and stamps the fear down. 

“Yasha, I...aw, fuck, I’m—I’m here, it’s okay, nothing’s wrong—” clearly something is wrong, idiot, “—I mean, um, you’re safe here, okay? It’ll be alright. I’m here, and I’ll stay if that’s what you want, okay? I won’t go anywhere, if you don’t want. Uh...can you shake your head if you want me to go? Is that...possible, can you—”

A frantic shake.

“Oh good, okay, thank fuck, then I’m here. I’m right here, Yash. I’m not going anywhere.” She tries to pitch her voice calm, takes deep, long breaths, and continues to murmur as reassuringly as she can until after...seconds? Minutes? Yasha’s trembling slows. 

There’s a pause. Yasha inhales and lets it go. It’s shaky, but apparently good enough because finally, eventually, she turns and looks back at Beau.

“I’m...okay. I am okay.”

Beau sinks back into the grass. Then she lies down. “Oh, cool. I’m, uh, glad.”

“I’m so—”

She holds up a hand. “Nope. C’mon.” She pats the ground beside her.

“Er...what?”

She pats it again, emphatic. “Lie down. C’mon. I think we’ve earned a break.”

She stares up at the sky while Yasha shifts around, and eventually there’s a gentle thud as she lies down. Seagulls cry in the distance and clouds drift slowly past their heads.

Beau swears, but mentally. A private thing.

“So, uh...do we...want to talk about it, or...?”

Yasha is quiet for a moment. That’s not surprising. Then:

“It...reminded me of when I killed you.”

“What? Oh—” 

“Almost killed you,” Yasha amended. “Both times.”

“Right,” says Beau. “That’s...right.”

She thinks about saying—almost. You only almost killed me, so really it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. And you kill people all the time anyway, right?

She blinks. “Wait, you kill people all the time, Yasha. Is it always that bad? Shit, does it always...does it always make you feel like this? Only...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you...break like that...”

She regrets the words immediately. Stupid, Beau, that’s a stupid thing to say. 

But Yasha answers the question earnestly. “It’s usually different,” she says to the sky. “It usually...doesn’t matter. Er...no, not that it doesn’t matter, it just...”

“Doesn’t matter,” Beau sighs. “No, I...sort of get it. Man, that might be fucked up. Of us.”

Yasha shrugs, which rustles the grass. “It’s how it has always been for me. That is just what life is like.”

“I’m sure Jester would disagree.”

“Jester is...nice. I am not. I...have hurt a lot of people. And not just people who were fighting me, or trying to hurt me, but people who were innocent, who did not need not to be hurt, people who care about me, and, and people who I...”

She trails off. Beau can’t see her face, but right now, selfishly, she is glad for it. She feels anger bubbling up in her stomach.

“You were being controlled,” she says fiercely. “You didn’t do it. Someone made you do it.”

“But...part of that...part of it was still me. Since...since you all freed me, I...I remember parts of it. I remember doing it. Those were my hands.” 

Beau can practically hear Yasha’s fist tighten. She definitely feels it when Yasha hits the ground.

“If I was better, or if I was stronger, if I had broken free faster, none of that would have happened, I could have stopped him sooner—”

This time, Beau doesn’t hold back. They’re lying down, so it’s incredibly awkward, but the first thing she can think of is to grab Yasha’s hand.

She sits up, and waves it over Yasha’s face.

“But you didn’t,” she says, then falters, then wants to smack herself. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is...” Then she stops. “No, you know what? Fuck it. You didn’t break out faster. And that’s because it was a miracle you managed it in the first place. Yasha, you were being controlled by a devil. You were being controlled by the Chained Oblivion. The fact that you were even a person the first time we met—and you were a person, you were funny, you charged me money to, to, well, you charged me five gold, remember that?”

Yasha blinks. Her wrist is slack in Beau’s grip.

“I...do, yes, I remember that.”

“Right. The fact that you were a person then meant that they couldn’t keep their claws in you. Because you were strong. You were better. Better than everything they tried to make you. You kept breaking free.”

Yasha does not try to squirm away, only stays there.

“But...I needed help every time that I did escape. I never managed it on my own. First it was...it was Kord, and then you all—”

“Of course!” Beau throws her other arm into the air. “Who the fuck could do it on their own?! All that means is that when you had a chance, the second you had a chance, you were outta there. In your heart, you knew what was right. You knew it, and held onto it, even when I’m sure it would’ve been so easy to stay there, to stay in that hell and just go through the motions and lose yourself in...in grief, and loss and...and all that. But you didn’t. And now look at you.”

She cracks a goofy smile, all desperation to make what she’s trying to say heard.

“You’re an angel, Yasha. Remember?”

Yasha slowly sits up too. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, black turning white, with little blades of grass.

Beau is made painfully aware of the fact that she’s still holding Yasha’s hand. She lets go. Then she swears again, and hopes that Yasha doesn’t think it’s because of anything s—

“I am, aren’t I?”

Her gaze shoots up and Yasha's wearing a goofy smile too. Small, a bit nervous, but real and warm.

It’s getting to be familiar.

Beau snorts. She snorts so loud that it might dislodge something in her chest. She hits Yasha gently on the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t, uh, don’t let it go to your head.”

She can see Yasha nodding in the corner of her eye.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Then, after a brief battle over whether or not to bring it up, “I don’t...I don’t...for the record, I’m not mad about you stabbing me. Or whatever.”

Yasha looks stricken, and Beau regrets it instantly. “Shit, should I not have reminded you of—”

“No,” Yasha sighs, and her face softens. “No. I am...glad that you are not mad at me.”

“Should we, like...go to a cleric about this?” Beau asks. “Is this going to be something that happens in, like...fights? Because if it does, it might put you in danger. Also, it’s...it probably sucks for you. Right?”

Fjord would probably have something to say about the way she’s handling this conversation. He’s not here now.

“I...don’t know,” Yasha says eventually. “It hasn’t happened before. It was only...just now. And...just with you. It...hurting you reminded me of being controlled. It...brought me back to all the times that my mind was not my own.”

“I’m sorry,” Beau says, because she’s not sure what else to say.

“No,” says Yasha. Beau looks up, surprised by the weight in her words. “If I am not allowed to be sorry to you, you cannot be sorry to me.”

“Ah,” says Beau. She feels a grin pulling. “In that case...I’m not sorry.”

Yasha nods, like this is sacred, and Beau can’t help but snort again. 

“C’mon,” she says. “We can...work this shit out later. Or start to. With a cleric if you want, or not, if you don’t. But I just got my ass kicked, and I’m thirsty. What do you say to some drinks? I think there’s juice. Do you like juice?”

She stands up, and sticks out a hand. 

Yasha takes it.

“Okay. I like juice.”

— — — 

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[reddeadreference]

Blog Progress Update (Travel Blog Style #17)

Pearson is drunk, Grimshaw is screaming at Mary-Beth for looking in a mirror, Karen is screaming at Grimshaw for killing Molly, Dutch is screaming at Grimshaw

I HATE IT HERE

This whole time.. I never realized the gang DOES know Arthur is sick… like … Strauss says something when you start the last Money Lending mission. And he says it like he KNOWS Arthur isn’t just sick. Like he knows Arthur is terminally ill.

And I just tried to talk to Javier.

A: ”Can we talk?”

J: "I don't have much to say to you right now."

Okay Ouch..wtf did I do to you?! is this cause I just threw out Strauss???

A: “Guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

J: "You just worry about that cough." 

BRUH

Like… ik he's 1000% loyal to Dutch but like… that HURT. Like my eyes actually started tearing up. How dare you, Arthur doesn't deserve this kind of treatment…

Jack just said "I don't like waking up in this place" yup now I'm crying. Me too bud..

"I wish people would stop being mean." ME TOO BUD T_T

I get so upset in this chapter because Arthur literally has known Dutch the longest out of anyone there, John second, and people are doubting both of them like they don’t know Dutch better than everyone else… but I mean I get it cause Dutch saved most of them and they feel like they owe him but… fuck man…

Did Marko’s second mission, Charlotte's first and second mission, All of Edith's, Finished Jim Boy Calloway’s, and I did one of Hamish's and I’m about to go fishing with him (Arthur is so happy to have a friend...). Before that I went and got that Legendary Bear that I honestly just forgot about… I did it for you Hosea (#1 dad. Miss you man…)

I’m going to get through the rest of the game tonight… it’s 2am… okay I’m gonna TRY… I wanna at least get to the build a house montage. (and then stop Immediately after O_O)

Okay that above paragraph did not happen and was written two days ago…

Got a lot of other stuff done though... Now time to get John outta jail.

DONE. and now Micah and Dutch are out of camp! WOO!

Helped Beau and Penelope one last time. Now I just need to finish all the other strangers missions that I can (Charlotte, Hamish, Mr B& Mr W, William,) 

I almost have Doverhill’s post done, and I’m excited to post it cause I edited gifs (really I just put filters over the video and made them into gifs… but still! I think they look nice..) just need an outside shot which I swear I had but must’ve deleted…

I also wanna see about making more gifs cause it’s fun.

Damn it I tried in vain to kill the boar before it could get Hamish… Arthur was so excited to do stuff with Hamish. I’ll take care of Buell... (I just wish John could get him...)

I’m hoping that in a few hours I’ll have finished Doverhill, Willard’s Rest, Hamish’s House (I’m pretty sure I can go inside now), Catfish Jackson which I never got the outside of, I’m gonna see if I can get a few Lake/Pond posts done to. I’m also working on Outfit posts of the outfits you can get in the stores (like I list each part that you can change on them and which parts are exclusive to the outfit, etc.)

(I do also have to finish the rest of the legendary stuff cause I need Arthur’s drawings of those.)

I’m also working on a master list of audio clips from @scarfacemarston ‘s blog (I asked and they said it was okay ^_^ thank you again) I’m sorting through them all, separating them on a google doc so i can make the page and posts for them. There’s clips from April 2020 to now(March 2022) and going backwards I’ve gotten to mid June 2020 lol so that’s a bigger process of this project but I’m excited for it (Cause I also get to listen to a bunch of audio from the game ^^ and I can do it on my laptop anywhere as opposed to just my room)

[itcameuponamidnightqueer]

happy birthday, @banrions! birthdays are dumb and stupid in these quarantimes but these sentinel babes are not. i hope your day was at least covid-good or, ideally, regular-good :)

//

it’s something to get used to again, a dedicated sleeping companion.

being with the mighty nein is not so different from growing up with her tribe. it is a more positive experience, to be sure, but yasha is used to being part of a small, tight-knit group. she is used to being around the same people every day, perhaps all day, and rarely tiring of them. since zuala, she knows what it is to seek intimacy and comfort from one person in the middle of a group that will not leave you alone.

the difference with the nein is that they will. yasha only needs to make eye contact with caleb or jester and she has privacy, space to herself, though always enough that her favorite monk can come cuddle up if she wants to (and she always seems to want to). it isn’t a thing overtly acknowledged, either—jester stops teasing after a few nights in the tower when beau and yasha disappear into beau’s room. on the occasions where they have to make do with the dome, they all settle in pods rather than one big pile—caleb and veth curl around each other protectively; jester winds her tail around fjord; and caduceus stretches out on his back, in reaching distance of everyone but he never moves in his sleep.

yasha’s favorite spot to sleep now is anywhere along the edge of the dome, propped on her side as beau wraps an arm around her stomach and burrows into the back of yasha’s neck. beau’s hands are small compared to hers, and yasha makes sure that the last thing she does before she falls asleep every night is to kiss them thoroughly.

the tower is a different story. she and beau get less sleep there than the rest of the group might think—or maybe just as much as they might think, depending on who’s doing the thinking. sometimes they stay up because of sexy stuff, sometimes it’s just talking. sometimes they stay up just because this part is new and exhilarating, and yasha can’t speak for beau, but she doesn’t want to miss any moment of it.

lucien doesn’t deserve to know beau, but yasha is slowly coming to accept that she does.

it feels inescapable on mornings like this. yasha has learned that there are inevitable things in life—death and loss are at the top of the list and slowly, with an endless amount of determination, beau is inching up to number three.

yasha ponders this as she watches beau sleep. it isn’t often that yasha wakes up first, and given the day they’d had, neither of them should stir for hours. but she hasn’t yet reached a point where beau doesn’t make her nervous, even now that they’re navigating how they fit together. beau is exuberant and restless and it’s catching, the energy she has. yasha wishes she could have been there more in the beginning, when they couldn’t travel everywhere via teleport. she daydreams sometimes about leisurely travel days, sitting in the back of a cart while she watches beau and jester goof off. maybe someday soon she can persuade the rest of the group into a vacation or something and sneakily give herself the opportunity to observe beau at rest—in the sun, in a field, in a warm and happy place where beau can expand to fit the air.

it’s astounding, yasha thinks, the adaptability beau has. yasha hadn’t really noticed it until kamordah, until beau stepped into her childhood home and shrank underneath the net of her father’s expectations.

yasha, having left and come back so many times, has kept a catalog of her friends’ immutable qualities. jester is idealistic, caleb seeks absolution, caduceus coaxes growth out of neglected things. fjord defines himself by what he chooses to offer his loyalty, and veth, so often on the outskirts of any group, devotes her energy to making sure her friends never feel abandoned.

yasha had never imagined there was a world in which beau wasn’t in control of her own life, until kamordah showed her that there used to be.

beau inhales deeply, stretching her legs and hugging her arms closer to her chest. her toes point and just reach the tops of yasha’s feet. yasha smiles fondly, brushes a tangled lock of hair behind beau’s ear. she smooths her fingers over beau’s forehead, over her cheek, down the length of her nose. yasha’s hands have seemed too big with other people, too clumsy and cluttered. it’s not that that’s gone away with beau, but yasha doesn’t seem to care that much anymore.

“been awake a while?” beau murmurs. she doesn’t open her eyes.

“for a bit, yeah,” yasha whispers back. “i like your nose.”

beau huffs sleepily. “s’been broken a bunch.”

“you could break it a bunch more and i’d still like it.” beau smiles slowly, cracks open just one eye. “i mean, please don’t break it,” yasha blushes. “i think you should try very hard not to break it. but i just, i mean—”

beau kisses her.

“you’re beautiful, is what i was trying to say,” yasha finally finishes when they break apart. “do you like that word? should i call you handsome instead?”

beau kisses her again. she slides forward and wraps herself around yasha, tucks her head underneath yasha’s chin, hooks her feet around yasha’s shins.

“when it comes to you, yash, there isn’t much i don’t like,” she says. beau’s breath is hot against yasha’s throat, but it has nothing on the flush she feels warming in her cheeks.

“well. yes. thank you.”

four words, all of them inadequate to express the roiling amounts of love she feels for beau. it’s been a few weeks since their date and yasha had panicked that night at how quickly she’d revealed her feelings. she couldn’t have known that the panicking wouldn’t stop, that revelations and feelings would only continue to build. she knows what it is to fall this way, to love and care until she has given each part of her to someone else. she didn’t know that she’d be lucky enough to do it more than once.

yasha has spent her whole life very aware of her size, it just somehow had never occurred that she might have to check her big feelings, too.

“i thought i was supposed to be the overthinker of our group,” beau mumbles, “but i can almost smell the smoke comin’ outta your ears.”

yasha chuckles and absently kisses the top of beau’s head. “nothing bad,” she promises.

“y’wanna talk about it?”

“later.” yasha rustles against the pillows, gathers beau in her arms and pulls a sun-warmed blanket over both of them.

zuala was free with pet names when she could chance it, peppering in sweetheart and my love any time they were alone. yasha had never tried to come up with any of her own, had never believed that anything else would taste as sweet on her lips as zuala’s name. but beau is solid against her, her cheeks smooth and worry-free in the early morning. she is more than a name meant for someone else, bestowed by a disappointing father.

yasha closes her eyes and snuggles in deeper.

she will dream about it.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Tate Langdon - American Horror Story

Wrote this a long time ago. My original plan back then was so make this into a multiple chapter story, but then I ultimately lost interest like all my other failed projects. 🙃

I also didn’t know how to fucking end this story, sorryyy ughhhh

❗Trigger warning❗

~~~~~~~~~~

Welp, I am dead.

Like, super dead.

One minute I’m slitting my wrists wide open in my bathroom and now I’m standing over my body watching myself decay.

I never thought I’d become a ghost or whatever I am. I didn’t even believe in the afterlife. I thought I’d just die and that would be it. I wouldn’t feel anything, it’d be peaceful. I was definitely wrong.

I moved into this big mansion in California with my parents. I didn’t want to die, I just thought it was my only way out. Now, I’m stuck here. Great. I really screwed the pooch this time.

After my parents found me rotting away, they decided to move away to have a fresh new start. Not that I blame them. But I was kinda pissed they just left me here, unable to step one foot off this property except for Halloween.

If I’m being completely honest, it’s not that terrible. I’m not alone. Turns out, many people have died here. Violently, which is fun.

There’s a woman that lives here who is kinda crazy, but she’s nice. She treats me better than my own mother did. She wishes I was a baby though, cause her baby is all kinds of fucked up.

There’s an elderly woman here too, who I found out was actually dead and lived here. When I was alive, she was our maid and constantly tried to seduce my father, which I reluctantly forgave her for that.

That weird neighbour, Constance, always visits here, since she has multiple children who have died here as well. I’ve yet to meet her eldest, Tate. To be honest, I don’t think I want to meet him. I’ve seen him wander around the halls but I’ve never shown myself around him. Mrs. Montgomery says he’s just misunderstood, but shooting up a school is a little too much for me.

I hang out with his brother sometimes, and by hanging out I mean basically rolling a ball back and forth. It makes him somewhat happy though, I guess. I know one of these days I’m going to run into him, I just hope it’s later rather than sooner.

~~~

Today, that real estate agent bitch is trying to sell this house, yet again. Only for the owners to be killed and get stuck here for all eternity. Anyone in their right mind would not buy this house, especially knowing what took place here.

I watch the family interested in buying the house from my old bedroom. They look like a relatively normal family. A mom, dad, and their angsty teenage daughter and a cute pet dog.

Yeah, they definitely wouldn’t survive living here.

“Spying on the new folks, I see?”

“Jesus! You scared me!” I turn to see Tate. Oh boy, this should be fun.

“Y/N L/N. How lovely to finally meet you. I never got the chance to introduce myself when you first moved here cause you see, you killed yourself before I even got the chance. Which was kind of rude on your part.” He smirked. “Your death was very entertaining, I must say. All that blood gushing everywhere, man, it was quite the spectacle.”

“Glad you found my death so entertaining, Tate. I’m sure yours was too.” I smile sweetly, making his smug grin quickly turn into a glare.

“Anyway,” he coughed, “better introduce myself to the new folks soon.”

“But...you’re dead.”

“Well, they don’t need to know that.” He walked over to the window where I saw. “That girl’s kinda hot, wouldn’t you say?” He smirked. “Don’t worry though, I find you even prettier.”

I scoffed and kept looking out the window. The teenage girl looked over towards the window. I quickly hid myself from her sight but Tate didn’t until she did a double take.

I gave him confused look. “What? It’s fun to play with people’s minds from time to time. You should try it sometime. Stop being a stick in the mud.” He said and walked away.

I can already tell he’s going to be so annoying.

I decided to take a closer look at the new comers. Tate was right though, that girl is pretty. I listened in on their conversation and I learned their names. Ben, Vivian, and Violet. All nice names, nice innocent names. They seem like nice people, sucks that they’ll die when they move in.

A few hours, Adelaide sneaks into the house. She always finds a way in here. She waves and smiles at me when she walks past, I still don’t know how she’s able to see me when I’m not visible to anyone, not that I mind cause I love her like a sister. She walks up behind Vivian, “You’re going to die in here.”

She’s never been one to know how to start a conversation.

~~~

I learned that Ben was a psychiatrist and Tate had an appointment with him today. He seems to be really determined to get to know these people, especially Violet. I thought about listening in, but that seemed too much. I just wandered the halls until I reached the bathroom. Violet hurts herself?

I hear footsteps and quickly sped off down the hall and hid behind a corridor, it was Tate. “You’re doing it wrong. If you wanna kill yourself, you should cut vertically. The doctors can’t stitch that up.” I hear him say.

What the hell? Why would he say that?

He closed the door and walked off. I shook my head and went up to the attic, my usual hang out spot.

I sat in the corner, I looked up and saw that the creepy rubber costume wasn’t there anymore. Thank god, that thing creeped me out to no end.

A red ball rolls to me, and I sigh. “I’m not in the mood, Beau.” I roll it back and it stays.

The attic door opens and Tate pops his head in, he sees me and smiles. “So, this is where you hang out? Good to know.” He says.

“Why? So you can annoy me better?” I say.

“Aw, don’t be like that. We should be friends.”

I laugh. “Yeah, right.”

Tate simple smirked and sat down beside me. “Come on. We’d make awesome...friends.”

I quickly scowled at him. “Why would you say that to Violet by the way? She could actually be convinced to do that, you know.”

“Oh, I was just trying to get another girl so we could have an afterlife threesome. Doesn’t that sound great?”

“Get outta here.”

Tate rolled his eyes, blowing me a kiss as he opened up attic door and descended the ladder. 

I scoff. This kid really is crazy, maybe it’s a good thing that he’s seeing Dr. Harmon. Tate climbed down the ladder and the attic door closed with a loud slam.

The red ball rolls to me.

~~~

Tate is hanging out with Violet on her room. I’m not stalking him! I just wanna make sure he doesn’t kill her. “Tate. What are you doing here? You need to leave now.” Ben says. Violet tries to calm her dad, but he insisted on him leaving.

“Just trying to be friends with your friendless daughter, Ben” Tate says. I roll my eyes and leave the hallway, accidently bumping into the kid. “Woah there. Aw, is someone spying on me?” He smirked.

I scoff. “As if.” Tate had a playful twinkle in his eyes, making me feel more nervous in his presence. “Just making sure you don’t murder that girl.”

“Me? Murdering someone? Nah.” He joked, but when he saw that I wasn’t joking, he dropped his smile. “Look, my murdering days are behind me, okay? I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I promise.”

“I’ll make sure to hold you to that, pretty boy.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?”

“Don’t push me.” I scowled, Tate fake saluting me before I started to walk off. I gasped when I suddenly felt Tate turn me around so he could plant a kiss on my cheek. “What the hell?” I stuttered.

Tate simply shrugged and smiled. “You just look very kissable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ugh, this flopped but whatever