#the hope county sheriff’s department

[wrathfulrook]

Far Cry 5 as Text Posts - the Hope County Sheriff’s Department

#fc5 text posts #far cry 5 #fc5 #staci pratt #joey hudson #the hope county sheriff’s department #the deputies

[the-silver-chronicles]

WIP Wednesday and Last Line

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @cassietrn (for WIP Wednesday) and @deputyash (for last line)

Tagging @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @strafethesesinners @carlosoliveiraa @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @chazz-anova @bitchofedensgate @trashcatsnark @minilev @onehornedbeast @voidika @afarcryfrommymain @corvosattano @derelictheretic @deputy-morgan-malone @dephellseed @skoll-sun-eater @florbelles @fourlittleseedlings @henbased @titiagls @vampireninjabunnies-blog @wrathfulrook @inafieldofdaisies @la-grosse-patate @ladyoriza @shallow-gravy @snake-in-the-garden @softtidesworld @starsandskies @thewanderer-000 and @megraen

FC5 WIPs for No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden, a new fic Let The Skyfall (When It Crumbles) and last line for You’re Almost Like Family. Also the first official introduction for Silva's (disowned) adopted father, Paul Yellowjack!

TW: First WIP involves mentions of bullying and abuse. Second WIP involves... IDK body mutilation? Self-body multilation? Screw it, a wasp comes out of a character's hand, then it takes off its hard shells, and proceeds to enter a different character's mouth in semi-disturbing detail. Probably inaccurate anatomy on both humans and supernatural yellowjackets too. Last line involves a main character getting shot dead (not for long though) so there's that too. There! Enjoy.

Here's the moment in No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden that the Voice realizes its Muse is in the wrong occupation and Joseph unfortunately suffers from its temper tantrum. I hope I was able to do Joseph and the Voice justice here. Snippet below:

The distrustful gazes of the deputies nearby did not go unnoticed by Joseph, their eyes held onto barely hidden wrath towards him and his brother. It felt like an additional weight of the burden he carried, even after John successfully bailed three of his formerly detained flock.

The Sheriff and his department saw him as crazy. They looked at him like a madman. Their fear of the unknown, it prevented them from seeing the signs of the Collapse.

The sins that blinded them from this truth were the same sins that the government pushed them to indulge in, indoctrinating the consumerist lifestyle upon them, turning them away from God's warm embrace.

Joseph mumbled a silent prayer, a blessing for these misguided souls, holding onto faith that his Lord will guide the deputies, the supposed protectors of the county, to his flock, where he and his siblings would guide them on the right path.

Perhaps Jacob could train them to be true protectors...

But only time will tell if the deputies would accept his truth, if the Sheriff would. For the meantime, Joseph would focus on his children, those who have accepted him as their Father.

Turning his attention back to the conversing John and Sheriff Whitehorse, he felt warmth on the back of his head, and recognized a soft humming above him.

He was more alert, closely listened as the words exchanged between John and the Sheriff became mute, the persistent hum above him canceling out the hum of the building's air conditioner. The warmth of His glow consumed the cool air, and Joseph felt expectant eyes upon him, from beyond his own perception.

The Voice. His Lord, his God. Have you a message for me, Lord?

No, the Voice spoke, its tone even and still, lacking emotion yet always familiar, always reassuring to Joseph, I have need of your eyes, Joseph. The Hell that will follow the Whitehorse is here... nearby.

Joseph's blue eye widened in shock. The pace of his beating heart quickened. The very reminder of this... figure, quickened the steady pace of his heart. This figure whom the Voice had said embodied "Hell" itself, was one that haunted him. This lost soul was one he never truly got a glimpse of in his visions, both the good and the terrifying. Always obscured by the environment, whether it be the sun that shined between him and them, in the Garden that will become their New Eden, or the shadows and flames that consumed him and the corpses of his family, their back turned to the destruction they made, the paradise he tried to preserve.

The Voice had told him that it was up to him, His prophet, to bring this Great Sinner to the correct path, for they were his family's salvation, or face the destruction they will wrought. He had asked once, at the pews of his chapel, "How will I know to help them if I don't even know who this Sinner is? What do they look like?"

The Voice hadn't answered him right away, but when it did, he was unable to stop the dreadful weight sink on his soul, "You will know on the day the locusts come for you. You will know when Hell stands in front of you in this house of Mine. You will know on the morning the First Seal breaks and the Reaping finally begins."

He wondered, briefly, if it was time. If the day of reckoning that he had been tasked with preparing for had finally come upon him, at a moment where he wasn't with the rest of his flock, and in the heart of the locusts' nest.

Though Joseph put the thought to rest with the knowledge the Voice had passed to him. The day the First Seal broke would be in the morning, on compound grounds where his Flock and Family resided, and the locusts' attitude was more that of frustration than being on the offensive.

As if sensing his confusion, Joseph heard his Lord's voice once more, Calm yourself, my child. It is not time yet. This is merely an observation. An introduction if you will. You had asked me, "Who is the Sinner whom heralds Hell?" I had not thought you ready, but now, I deem it so. You will see the shape this harbinger of destruction takes form in.

Joseph's eyes shifted from the locusts, the green deputy uniforms coiling the uneasy nausea that settles on his dread. And what form is that, Lord?

The anticipation of finally seeing the one constant figure in his visions, his flock's savior or destroyer, all depending on the choice he makes, how far he can go to reach their soul and bring them into the light.

He felt God's presence above him, a constant reassurance to the Father, waiting with him as they scoured the moving bodies for the one person that will change the fate of his family at a moments notice.

That of a deputy, my prophet, the Voice revealed, Focus your eyes down the left hall.

Joseph did as instructed, his gaze locked on the corridor, catching the sight of two large double sided doors.

Can you feel their presence yet? Overwhelming, isn't it? He chuckled as Joseph's breathe hitched at a presence he swore he could just touch with his fingertips, despite no movement from his own hand and the lack of physical presence, Not something the majority of humanity is skilled enough to do. Unless you have the privilege of being my chosen prophet, of course.

Is... is this how you touch us? How you see us? Joseph questioned, gaze locked on the doors as the presence that was not there yet continued its pace towards the doors.

The Voice only chuckled, like a parent amused by a child's question. God did not answer him, again, and Joseph realized he had already answered his own question, again. Through this new sense the Lord had blessed him with, Joseph tried to close the gap between him and the approaching presence of the deputy that will doom his garden, or be another addition to it. With just his hand at his leg, he closed his palm.

But it did not last long, and swiftly opened his hand, hissing as if he had been bitten, only silently as to not alert his younger brother nor draw attention to himself. The sense the Lord gave him ceased, and Joseph could not feel the presence that had stung him, no, burned him upon touch.

He could, however, hear the echo of bellowing laughter of his Lord, his God. It was familiar, in a way, reminding him of how Old Man Seed had once bellowed at his expense, rather than roar with wrath, once word of Joseph getting battered and beaten by a group of older teens who he had come across while walking home from school. Jacob hadn't been there at the time, forced to stay at the house to do chores for their father after another suspension.

Joseph shook his head. He would not compare God to that wretched monster of a man, over a bellow of laughter no less. He should feel honored to have heard such a rare moment of laughter from God himself.

Careful now, Joseph, the Voice silenced further thought, Touching affinity that high will damage you. Thankfully your soul knew exactly what to do.

Joseph could still feel the sting on his palm, even though he was uncertain on how exactly that happened, I don't understand...?

It's not important. Humans weren't meant to have such senses. We have more pressing matters. Keep your eyes on those doors Joseph. I want to see.

Joseph kept watch on the doors, and though he could not feel their presence like before, but he could feel the Lord's grow warmer and warmer as the moment continued on.

Finally, it was at last that he saw the handle jiggle, and the door begin to creak open.

Finally, the Voice spoke once more, the humming drowning all other noises as its warm protected Joseph from the cold embrace of the building, everything except for the corridor and the opening doors darkening as God and his prophet watched a figure emerge from the end of the hall.

She reveals herself-

The Voice didn't finish, hushing itself as Joseph stared at the woman from down the hall.

Files tucked under her arm, the woman who emerged from the doors made her down the hall, her path leading towards Joseph.

The Father remained still as he observed the approaching woman, who seemed none the wiser of Joseph's presence, nor that interested in John's debate with the Sheriff. Hair dark hair flowed smoothly behind her, not tied up, not braided, simply free. Slim, rimless blue rectangular cat eye glasses rested on her slender nose.

As her figure became more discernible the closer she came, Joseph noticed the slivers of silver running down her hair, likely dyed. He was almost shocked to see the small faded scars that littered across her face. The scarring was notably darker than that of her tawny brown skin.

Now merely a meter or two apart, almost face-to-face, he noticed more details. Thick eyebrows, high cheek bones, the indifferent frown she wore on her pouty lips, and more concerning to the Father, the dark bags under her eyes.

Her eyes.

As she crossed paths with him, Joseph caught a glimpse of her grey eyes, dull but determined, focused on some deputy or another further behind him, her attention neither on him nor his brother. They appeared to be irrelevant to her apparent mission of delivering the files.

His brows scrunched as he squinted from behind his yellow-tinted aviators, mouthing the words plastered on the file. Office of the Sheriff-Coroner?

Then his eyes widened, as he took in the clothes she wore.

Instead of the telltale green jackets and the deputy's badge, she wore a white coat over a dark blue button-up and a black turtleneck shirt, with an ID badge that he couldn't get a steady look on as it shifted and turned as she walked.

She also had dark grey jeans, black combat boots and gloves. Joseph had to wonder why so much of her skin was covered, aside from her face. What was she hiding from everyone else?

She passed him, no indication nor acknowledgement of his presence. He watched her move from desk to desk until she found the right deputies, Hudson and Pratt he recalled, catching their full attention as she spoke, for what he could only assume was about the contents in the files.

He observed in silence, the humming above him growing louder, the Lord's presence no longer warm and welcoming as it always has been, but uncomfortably hot and erratic.

Lord?

This... this can't be right- No, it's impossible! She can't have- Why? How?!

Joseph froze, confused and lost on the tone of the Voice. He'd never heard such strength of emotion from Him. When God chose to speak with him, it was with a monotone neutrality, well-spoken and well-versed with an air of seriousness. Rarely He showed amusement. Even rarer to show disappointment.

But he'd never heard God's voice hold frustration before. It even bordered on rage.

He felt a sharp pain pound in his head, the heat becoming unbearable, his shirt itching against his skin.

Lord, I don't understand... is this not part of your Plan?

He looked to the woman who was supposed to represent Hell, the woman who conversed with the two deputies out of ear-shot. The Voice spoke once more, almost hissing, Does she look like a deputy, Joseph?

Joseph swallowed emptily, swiping at his damp forehead, the heat almost unbearable. He took another glance at her once more, the woman unaware of what she had done, however baffling it is for Joseph to believe that this supposed Sinner had managed to spit in God's plan.

Joseph tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he swiftly turn to face John.

"We're all done here brother. No trouble will be coming from the Sheriff's Department for a while," John informed him, grin wide as he looked into Joseph's eyes, searching for any pride.

Joseph could only nod, the heat dying down as the sensation of the cold air rested against his skin once more, the aches pounding in his head still present though.

John furrowed his brow in worry, his concern overpowering his need for his older brother's approval, "Joseph, are you alright?"

Reconvene your heralds back at the Compound, Joseph, the Voice spoke, His warmth and light retracting away from Joseph's head, There is much to discuss about this new course of events.

As you wish, Lord, Joseph almost mumbled, but the light and warmth God shined on him left, already knowing Joseph's answer.

Turning to John, he was weary of the audience around them, though giving one last glance to Hell's enigmatic vessel, he saw her eyes were not amongst the deputies and Sheriff who watched their every move.

Gesturing to the door where their released flock members were waiting outside, John understood immediately and walked alongside Joseph towards the department's entrance.

"We must gather brother and sister," Joseph whispered to his faithful brother, "The Voice has spoken once more. New developments have occurred. Some I fear have threatened all that we have worked for."

He had faith in the Lord's ability, but the shock that even the Voice could not have predicted the Great Sinner's change in occupation had deeply shook him, making him ponder what else this sinner was capable of.

"What do you mean brother?" John asked, his confusion evident. Once out of the building, Joseph decided that he will not answer his younger brother just yet. Better to have the whole family together.

"I will explain when we gather Jacob and Faith at the Compound, but for now, we should return our missing flock back to the rest of the family," Joseph gestured to the three men who piqued up at the sight of both the Father and the Baptist, in awe of the brothers as they were lead into the car.

Here's a WIP for a new FC5 fic, Let The Skyfall (When It Crumbles), a scenario where I pondered the question of what would have happened if Paul Yellowjack, in all his wasp-y glory, had been at the events of the Reaping (or FC5 in general) where Silva was busting her ass to fight the Seeds... the answer? He would win. He... would have won. I mean... there's really not much you can do with someone who, in their current supernatural incarnation, can pull off a Kenjaku move (Jujutsu Kaisen reference... and spoilers for the manga and season 2) amongst other things and is an experienced, cunning strategist to boot. Case-in-point... Paul's first victim; the Father himself, Joseph Seed. The post giving a summary of this scenario idea + a summary of who Paul is and his relationship with Silva can be found here and the WIP snippet I have is below:

When lamplight disappeared from the window, Paul rasped a whisper to himself, "Go time."

He looked down to his glove-less hand, opening his palm far and wide. The vespe that watched from his shoulders flapped their wings, snapping at the air, chattering encouragement as the runt of the alveare crawled its way into the body's right palm.

Paul could only describe the sensation of a vespa maneuvering under the skin, especially in a fresh body, as a numb tickle at best and the numbed pain of popping a pimple at worst. The bump the runt made under his skin finally made it to the palm, and without further instruction, broke through the flesh.

The runt, unlike its kin that were irregularly bigger for the kind of wasp they were, was as small as the average vespa should be, and perfect for the task he needed it for.

It used its forelegs to clean itself off, while devouring as much of the nutritious meat and blood as it could before it begun its journey to the cabin. Two of its bigger kin flew down to the gaping hole in the hand, mandibles snapping before widening, a yellowish pale substance slowly spewing out, their forelegs pulling a stream of it out, and then working together to cover the breach in the sticky spew, swiftly hardening as they worked.

He brought the hand up to his clean-shaven face, the runt looking back up at him with beady red eyes. It knew what it needed to do. He knew what he needed to do. So without further prompting, the runt flapped its wings and made its way towards the sleeping cabin, the lights at the Profeta's compound glowing brightly in the distance.

Though if things went to plan, Paul smiled to himself as he hummed out an old tune he heard, walking back towards the cover of the trees, They won't be much of an eye sore for much longer.

Though he rarely allowed his hive to separate, he was confident that the runt would ensure that Profeta's body was under his thumb. Seeing through its vision now, he was already impressed how far it made it without being eaten by a bat.

The runt flew towards the small wooden cabin, landing at the window sill. Looking inside, the darkness held no disadvantage over his vision, and he could see clearly that the Profeta was laying down on his bed, sleep having finally caught up to him.

The runt clamped its mandibles together, its body convulsing and buzzing erratically. He had quite enjoyed keeping the Profeta awake over the course of the month.

Crawling through the cracked and broken glass he made during a another nighttime visit, the runt had successfully entered the cabin.

It looked to its target, growling out softly at the sight of the shirtless man.

The Profeta was a man in his early forties, reaching his mid, facial hair grown into a small beard, the hair on his head usually tied in a bun, but locks left to flow naturally as he laid asleep on his back.

The man was shirtless, a proof of arrogance and ignorance towards the vulnerability that can be exploited. Not to mention his doors and windows were all unlocked as Paul had discovered.

The visible tattoos that strewn across the younger man's chest held little meaning to the runt nor Paul, though the self-inflicted scars littered across, some with the labels of the seven deadly sins, did gain attention. How mocking it was to Paul, seeing the Profeta display such scars in public, when he had done nothing to earn them.

They weren't reminders of what he survived. They weren't lessons that shaped his core being, nor were they stories that told a tale of hurt and despair, of someone in pain, and yet through persistence alone, they continue on, to breathe, to live. No, the scars of this profeta held no merit, no truth, no reason to exist beyond glamorization.

A point of glorification to impress the gullible sheep he had entrapped with his charm, to show that suffering is a choice, giving them no chance to naturally experience what it means to fight and crawl and survive. Telling a lie to keep them subservient, slaves who never question the question of what is right and what is wrong, only what the Profeta wants. Individuality and potential talent squandered and crushed over trusting the wrong words.

The truth, the universal truth Paul knew, was that suffering was apart of life. Pain is unavoidable, and the only choice one can have in it is either enduring it or die trying.

To endure pain is to prove you're alive. To endure suffering is to prove your strength. To endure and overcome both, though, is to show your worthiness as a survivor.

The Profeta has only proven how low he will bend to the whims of his cruel master. While Paul's own existence was less than satisfactory, yet he at least had enough freedom to choose how to serve his own Master.

The runt looked to the black pants the man wore, a potential landing spot. But Paul opted against the idea, directing its gaze to the Profeta's jugular. The runt's faint red eyes locked on to its target, wings spread out for flight.

This chance was now or never. There wouldn't be another opportunity, not with the sceriffo's department so restless. The fate of Paul's precious Boa hanged in the balance.

Without further hesitation, the runt leaped in the air, its wings propelling it faster as it brought out its stinger. In mere seconds, the stinger stabbed through the neck, injecting the venom into his bloodstream.

The runt swiftly dropped off his neck, avoiding hand that slapped against the stung area on instinct, the pain rousing the Profeta from his slumber.

The runt's wings saved it from hitting the floor, allowing it to hover up to see the Profeta try to lift himself up, the drowsiness of interrupted sleep becoming heavier than usual.

His hand rubbed his neck, sucking a breath in at the sting, though his arm numbly slouched over the bed. He attempted to lift it, only to find he couldn't. The Profeta tried to sit up, but found himself barely being able to lift his head.

The runt watched the Profeta's face twitch, then it listened as he groaned, moaned and grunted nonsensically, no words forming. His voice failing him.

Through the runt's eyes, Paul couldn't help but smile at the sight of the broken down instrument of a God. One of many tools used to keep the cogs of the wheel going.

Paul urged the runt to go for a closer look.

The runt complied, buzzing and chattering excitedly as it landed on the man's nose, right in his view.

It stared into the Profeta's blue eyes, allowing Paul to see the still gaze of a man helpless and trapped, but more deserving of it.

Paul wondered what this man saw when he slept. What he hears?

The laughter of those long gong, whom he'll never see again except in the depths of buried memories, to bring himself a moment of joy to the grim purpose he existed for now? Did he fantasize of a life he'll never get, one where everything went right?

The runt turned to glance at the arm that had the woman's face etched on his skin.

Does he wish as I do? That he could have made a different choice than the one he did?

The runt faced the Profeta's gaze once more, taking notice of the tears that matched his watery eyes, the body reflexively trying to wet the dry eyes, the venom keeping him from doing something as simple as blink.

Or does he believe he has done no wrong?

The runt turned its back to the Profeta's frozen eyes, looking over the tip of his nose to the half-open entrance that awaited it.

Has the lies he's been told and never doubted become truth, despite how ludicrous they are?

The runt gently hopped down to the man's upper lip, gentleness no longer a necessity as the vespa's legs dug into the soft flesh.

Does he sleep soundlessly despite the terror he's wrought? The lives he's ruined?

The runt's middle legs steadied on the man's upper teeth, its hind legs pushing the upper lip back, while its forelegs pushed the forward the Profeta's bottom teeth, the venom's sluggish effects combined with the vespa's unnatural strength widening his mouth open. With the entrance now large enough to fit it inside, the runt flew over to the chin, its head looking down the interior of the mouth.

Does he hear their damning screams?

Slowly, the runt turned its middle legs to latch onto the slim outline of the shell Paul had attached to it, hooking underneath casing before loosening the thorax and abdomen shells, letting both fall to the sides.

The writhing small tendrils pulsed out, dripping small yellow-ish pale spew, like what most of the alveare produced. The liquid substance hardened as it dripped further down. The Profeta's breath quickened, panicked and confused, unaware of the plans Paul had in store for him. The runt shuddered as the heated air washed over it, before beginning its descent.

Though I'm not overly upset of never knowing the answer.

The runt crawled through the heated wetness of the Profeta's mouth, passing the tongue until it reached his throat. Beady red eyes looked down the path that descended into the esophagus. Unless it wanted to trigger the Profeta's gag reflex, it would avoid the path. Growling, it looked up, and found the breach point.

Crawling to the roof of the mouth, it ascended upwards, the writhing tendrils on its back lubricating in preparation, as its mandible jaws opened wide for the breach.

And last line paragraph(s) for You're Almost Like Family, the time loop fic where the Seeds realize just how easy it is for Silva to just wound up dead, and much they miss the luck she had in the first three months she fought against them. Anyway, paragraphs below:

A shift in movement from one of the Chosen stepping out of his peripheral momentarily caught John's attention, and he almost glanced to see where the Chosen was moving to, but noticed that Alexander raised a brow at the movement from the other end of the circle they surrounded the Deputy in, giving Jacob a signal with his head.

John heard his big brother huff out an annoyed sigh, glancing a quick glare over to the Chosen's new spot. Seeing nothing to worry about, John returned his attention to Joseph's pleas to the wayward sinner who had caused everyone trouble.

"Child, this wrath... this violence that you have escalated for the sinners who only use you as a weapon is no longer necessary," Joseph spoke with a soft, even voice filled with paternal gentleness, "This unnecessary rebellion needs to end. The Collapse closes in on us ever closer, just as I showed you in the Henbane, and the only salvation... are the Gates my family has prepared for. I see you, the person you are. And that is not as the tool of destruction your so called friends view you as. We see your compassion. Your bravery. The virtues you only think you don't have. And we welcome it, in our Garden. You seek someplace to belong... God has shown me you belong with us."

John watched as Joseph outstretched his hand to the Deputy, the Baptist sucking in a breath as she, of all people, eyed it, even as Joseph continued, "Please, child. Put aside the wrath. Put to peace the suffering. This doesn't have to end in blood. We can help each other. With your help, we can save more souls, more lives... and together we can bask in the new world God promised us."

John watched in bated breath as the Deputy glanced down, putting together her options.

When the Deputy finally found an answer, John saw Alexander's eyes widen at something ahead of him, and was shocked to see the Chosen Leader reach for his sidearm.

"Tch, you li-"

A loud crack shot through the air as it did the Deputy, her lips glistened with blood instead of the rest of her words. John watched, frozen on the spot, as the Deputy's body slowly fell back, following after the cartilage and blood that the bullet blast clean through. The bullet of which glinted at his eyes.

And the bullet continued to glint at him, just as the Deputy's corpse stopped in its descent, not even touching the ground. From what John could see, Joseph midway from stepping back, and hadn't planted his foot down, just as Alexander hadn't even been able to fully aim his sidearm at the culprit.

He tried to glance to Jacob and Faith, but found his eyes refused, locked on Joseph and the fresh corpse of his family's most determined rebel, who defied gravity just as she defied them.

What is going on?! Though he couldn't move, John was relieved he could still think to himself.

#wip wednesday #last line tag game #last paragraph tag #far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #wip: no snake only a boa in the garden #oc: silva omar #coroner!silva au #joseph seed #john seed #earl whitehorse #fc5 the voice #hope county sheriffs department #wip: let the skyfall (when it crumbles) #oc: paul yellowjack #wip: you're almost like family #oc: alexander khaos #jacob seed #faith seed #the seed family #project at eden's gate #the project at eden’s gate #trigger warnings for gross stuff and minor violence + past abuse which can be found at the above trigger warnings already told

[simplegenius042]

oooh i know i'm late, but if you haven't already talked about it (or have more to share on it), can I please hear more about No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden (FC5)? (--direwombat)

You know funny thing! I had completely forgotten I had this WIP up until last week.

So, from what I could guess from my earliest notes and what I wrote so far then, No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden was a FC5 fic that focused on Silva, Joseph, Faith, the Sheriffs Department, Eden's Gate, Adam Omar and his Congregation in Silva's past, an in-depth look at/possible deconstruction and reconstruction of the religious Adam and Eve themes (your original sin, shame, curiosity, ignorance and knowledge, (unfair) punishment, the acknowledgement of pain and death, mistrust and disobedience towards God and other deities or figures of worship, etc) and possibly set in a time pre-Reaping or where the Collapse just doesn't (or rather can't) occur at all. It would flashback more between Silva's past and present, focused on her relationship with her father Adam, her first love Irene and her adoptive father Paul and the Tumultite community. The focus of the past would be less Persephone and the Apostles and more her time spent on the Archipelagoes from what I could gather.

I had no idea where to even continue on from this, so I decided since past me wasn't going to travel forward in time and tell me what she was thinking, I decided to add on this story with another divergence from the canon of Silva's Hope and Far Cry The Silver Chronicles... and made Silva a coroner instead of a deputy (with a unique interest and perspective on corpses), because I like to make the Voice cry in a cosmic corner.

The Voice attempts to retaliate by telling Joseph that Silva is perfect to be "the Mother of Eden's Gate" but fortunately Faith's already got her hands on this strange cryptic coroner version of Silva and she isn't willing to share. John & Jacob, Alexander & Nadi, the Sheriff's Department, the GFH/FFH, Hope County residents, the rest of Eden's Gate, Kamski and Azriel just try and live regular-ish lives while this all goes on. This is the closest thing to a "no Collapse" AU that I have so... enjoy?

That's what I've got so far and what I've recently added (because I forgot to write notes last time, silly me).

#far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #wip: no snake only a boa in the garden #oc: silva omar #coroner!silva au #faith seed #joseph seed #fc5 the voice #the seed family #oc: father adam omar #oc: paul yellowjack #the project at eden's gate #hope county #oc: azriel #oc: alexander khaos #oc: nadi sinclair #hope county sheriff's department #oc: kamski neon #no collapse au

[deputy-morgan-malone]

Other OCs (part 1)

I’ve been wanting to talk about other OCs that may or may not be a part of Morgan’s story - I haven’t decided yet, and there’s always aus - but I felt like I wanted to make at least something for them rather than just ramble, and I could never quite get up the motivation.  But today I have, using this picrew, for a few at least.  So:

Connor Lannon

His hair should really be silver/grey rather than white - as should Morgan’s grandparents in this post - but the picrew only had white (purple and blue, but not grey) and I’d already started making some characters in it and I kind of wanted to have a bit of a ‘uniform’ representation for them, so - I did what I could.

Connor is probably the most fanciful idea I came up with.  Essentially, he is a career criminal, a contract killer/enforcer for the most part - with a lot of Liam Neeson in Taken vibes, but more evil and I only vaguely think of Liam as a faceclaim for him.  About 20 years before the start of the game, he was on a job in Montana.  Things went south, he had to run, and ended up getting hunted down by a rival gang.  His car stalled on a road around Great Falls, and Morgan’s father happened to pass by.  He helped fix the car for free, and when people looking for Connor showed up - he let Connor hide and covered for him, sent them on their way.  Without asking any questions or demanding anything in return, despite a decent implication he might get hurt for it.  Connor got out of the job safe and sound, but he kept thinking back on that incident a lot as the years went by.  20 years later, now in his middle age, he has something of an existential crisis - he decides one thing he really wants to do is find that guy who saved him, thank him, and see if he can pay the debt back in any way.

He tracks down Morgan’s father, but finds out he died years earlier.  He still visits Morgan’s mother, being very vague about his connection to Morgan’s dad, and finds out about Morgan.  Morgan who has just started a career in law enforcement, away from her family.  And he decides to go find her and see if he can ‘repay’ the debt by helping her in some way.  I figure that getting in to Hope County during the Reaping wouldn’t be quite as difficult as getting out - the Cult wants to ‘save every soul they can’ - so whether it’s during the Reaping or in a no-warrant AU, he manages to get to Morgan and - helping her out with the immediate problems in her life in either situation brings him rather sharply into conflict with Eden’s Gate.

He basically just came out of an idea I had for a) Morgan deserves a psychotic badass on her side, and b) how would she deal with a psycho, given her morals, outside of the specific culture of Eden’s Gate and ‘we’re saving people really’.  Connor is a psychopath in my general conception of him - but not a pure one, not incapable of empathy, just having had it crushed out of him by a lifetime of organised crime and trying to survive it.  He has some feeling - hence his getting stuck on Morgan’s dad’s act of selflessness, and wanting to ‘repay’ that in some way.  But he is not a nice man, and he will do horrible things, despite having the ‘honourable’ goal of helping Morgan.  How that will mesh with her morals, and the situation she’s in, will likely be very messy.

Carl

Carl is a member of Eden’s Gate - not a Chosen, but one of those high-level ‘security’ dudes with the cool black coats.  During the Reaping, and maybe in some aus, Joseph specifically wants him to try to talk with Morgan about her situation and why she should join Eden’s Gate, because Carl has a unique insight into her position - he used to be a Deputy at the Sheriff’s Department too.  He joined up, very optimistic and with the best of intentions - but became disillusioned with law enforcement in the County and in America.  Largely related to the treatment of black and POC people, and poor people.  He does do his best to make a connection with Morgan and talk to her - but very often at the end of a shotgun, or after she’s been woken up from being knocked-out, tied up, again.  She is a slippery one.

I don’t have a specific last name for Carl - I was thinking Teller, but I also quite like the headcanon that everyone in the Cult takes on the last name Seed, because they’re all a ‘family’ - except for Feeney, to whom no rules apply.  Teller may be his pre-Cult surname, but I also might change it.  I don’t have a lot of backstory decided for Carl, but I really like the idea of him and Cold Little Heart by Michael Kiwanuka always makes me think of him.

#oc: connor lannon #oc: carl #other characters #oc: tim malone #project at eden's gate #hope county sheriff's department #deputy sheriff #friendships #allies #enemies #morality #morgan-in-the-reaping #no-warrant au #aus #picrew #family #morgan + connor #morgan + carl #joseph seed #joseph x morgan #carl + joseph #connor + tim #morgan vs project

[svalleynow]

TN Legislation Will Suspend Driving Privileges of Juveniles Who Make Threats Against a School

The Tennessee General Assembly passed legislation Tuesday that would suspend driving privileges for juveniles who make mass violence threats on school property or at a school-related activity. If the juvenile already has their driver’s license, they will lose it for one year. If the juvenile does not have their license, they lose the ability to obtain a driver’s license for one year. The bill is…

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#Bledsoe County News #Chattanooga News #Dunlap News #Grundy County News #Grundy County Sheriff&039;s Department #Haletown #Jasper News #Kimball News #Monteagle #New Hope #Pikeville #Sequatchie County News #Sequatchie Valley News #South Pittsburg News #Tennessee #Whitwell News

[bullet-prooflove]

Romantic Shit: Ryan x Reader (Yellowstone)

Tagging: @hatersaremymotivators justsimplyme93 knick3rbock3r anticxrrupt 

Prequel to Summer (NSFW)

Every morning that Ryan wakes up with you is a gift. He’s thought that ever since you decided to take this cowboy to bed. This morning though, this morning is bitter sweet because he’s leaving in a couple of days for Texas and the two of you still haven’t discussed what that means for the relationship.

When he finds you, you’re standing on the porch of your house, watching the sunrise in the distance, a mug of coffee clasped to your chest. You’re clad in nothing but his plaid shirt and cowboy boots. The tattoo of his name stands stark against your upper thigh, a symbol of your love for him, your commitment.

This thing between the two of you was never meant to have a future.

In the beginning he didn’t see how it could work, you were a deputy in the sheriff’s department and he was a land enforcement agent/cowboy who did some goddamn shady shit. The secrets you kept from one another should have strangled the life out of this thing but instead it had flourished, because there has always been a mutual understanding. He’s got shit he can’t tell you and you’ve got shit you can’t tell him.

“We should talk about it.” He says quietly as he comes to lean against the wooden strut that supports the gable.

You set your coffee cup down on the railing before you turn your attention towards him. His jeans are slung low on his hips, the orange light from the sunrise plays over his bare chest, highlighting the brand that’s seared into his skin.

“I guess I just wasn’t ready for this to end just yet.” You say as you lean against the pillar opposite him.

Ryan wants to tell you it doesn’t have to, that he’ll be true to you out there in Texas but he can’t ask you to wait a year for him, no matter how much he may want it. His fingertips trace over your name, the italic scrawl inked into his inner forearm.

Katalina…

The love of his life.

The woman whose about to become Sheriff of this county.

You can’t go with him and he can’t stay…

“I love you.” He says quietly as he looks out across the landscape. “I will always love you, the distance doesn’t change that.”

“I know.” You say softly as you come to stand beside him. “I keep asking myself what’s one year in the space of a lifetime?” 

“And what’s the answer?” He asks you, the back of his hand brushing lightly against yours.

Your fingers capture his, entwining them and for the first time since this conversation started he allows himself to hope.

“Marry you.” You say, squeezing his hand a little. “So you’ll know you’ll always be mine, wherever you go.”

If that isn’t the most romantic shit he doesn’t know what is.

“Are you asking me that honey?” He murmurs, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he backs you up against the strut. He can feel the heat of your body through the shirt, he wants to unbutton it, take it off, fuck you right here on the porch. “Are you asking me to marry you before I head off to Texas?”

Your fingers lace at the base of his neck, fingertips brushing over the light curls. His hair has gotten a little long this season. He’s been meaning to cut it but he likes the way your fingers feel when you tug it just right.

“I guess I am cowboy.” You whisper against his lips. “So is that a yes or a no?”

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#ryan yellowstone #ryan x reader #ryan yellowstone x reader #yellow stone #yellowstone #ian bohen

[saynogrumpy]

Hope County Sheriff's Department doodles

#far cry 5 #earl whitehorse #joey hudson #staci pratt #deputy rook

[gaysindistress]

Dial Drunk - part 2 of Fine Line

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst and the feels oh and Peggy Carter slander

Word count: 2.1k words

Master list

Fine line 1 & Cocaine Jesus 3

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom​

a/n: I love a good song fic. Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan sponsors this fic so I highly suggest you listen to it.

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“Son, is there someone I can call for you?” the Sheriff asks while half dragging and carrying a drunk Steve into the station. Under the dead weight of the mafia boss, the elderly Sheriff struggles to get them inside as the rain pelts them so hard, he’s expecting there to be bruises on both of them.

Steve mumbles something as his head lolls to the side but the other man cannot make out a single word or number for that matter. At the door, he waves to his deputies to him with the door and he all but drops Steve onto his younger deputies.

“Son, I don’t know your name. Where is your wallet or your phone?”

Steve shoves his hand into his coat pocket which sends all of them into high alert but it’s all false as he dumps the asked for items onto a desk. The Sheriff gets to work to figure out his name and find an emergency contact or anything at all that might be helpful.

“Alright, Mr. Rogers,” he announces as he types away at a computer, no doubt pulling up Steve’s criminal record as well as his contacts, “Should I call a Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers? Is that still current?”

Steve scoffs at the name as he falls into a seat next to the Sheriff, “My own wife hates me.”

A deputy gives the Sheriff a look but he ignores it and calls the number nonetheless. Steve slumps back into the hard chair and drops his head back in attempts of sleeping off the horrendous hangover he’s going to have. The phone rings and rings, leaving him with just the dial tone as Peggy ignores the call. They try again but nothing happens. She ignores the call. They try a third time and finally she answers.

“Hello?” her accented voice wakes Steve.

“Hi is this Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers?”

She snorts, “Not anymore. If this is about Steve, call someone else. I don’t care”

The dial tone replaces her voice and all of the officers look at each other in disbelief.

“Did… Did she just hang up?” the same deputy asks.

The sheriff clears his throat and brushes over his thick gray mustache as he thinks about what to do next.

“I told you she hates me,” Steve pipes up, “Wasted your time.”

“Is there anyone else we can call?”

He shrugs, “She won’t answer either.”

Behind them two deputies are whispering to each other about how wrong it was of Peggy to hang up but quickly stop when the Sheriff gives them a pointed look.

“Maybe SHE will answer. What’s her name and number?” He extends the phone out to Steve who drops it and has to slowly reach down to pick it up. It takes him longer than usual to open it and find the number of the woman whose house he practically ran from. After he left Y/N’s house, he found the nearest bar and drank the place out of anything that would numb the rejection pain. For ten years, he dreamed of nothing but seeing his girl again and when he finally did, his past decisions ruined any chance of a relationship with her again. For ten years, he resented Peggy, his father, his mother even and himself for not fighting harder for Y/N. For ten years, he regretted everything he had done and prayed that somehow he could go back in time to just be with her.

“Y/N hates me too.”

Still the sheriff dials the number and hopes that this mystery woman will answer the phone. It rings five times and they’re all beginning to think that this will be a repeat of the first call but she does answer.

Her voice is raw from crying but she answers, “Hello?”

“Hi ma'am, is this Y/n?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Well ma’am, this is the Kings County sheriff department. I’m Sheriff Anderson. I have Steve Rogers here and he’s going to be held overnight in the drunk tank or you can come pick him up.”

“Shit, okay. Um…” there’s a long pause but they can hear her shuffling around, “I can be there in 45 minutes, is that okay?”

“Yes of course ma’am. We appreciate you answering the phone so late and coming right away.”

“Uh… yeah no problem I guess,” she mumbles something else but Steve doesn’t catch it.

Anderson motions to his deputies and has them take Steve to a cell while he waits. He’s half asleep and even heavier than before as they haul him into his own cell. Next to him is another lonely drunk stranger who was ignored and left to figure their shit out alone. Regardless he can’t be bothered to care and he shucks off his overcoat to use it as a pillow. Crossing his arms over his chest and his legs over each other, he settles into a short nap while he waits for Y/N. A part of him isn’t even sure that she is actually coming and he’s starting to convince himself that she never answered the door in the first place. She’s not coming to take him home…there's no home where they live together. There is no place where they love and support each other because he destroyed that when he married Peggy. Tears begin to grow heavy on his eyes but he won’t allow himself to cry over the past no matter how recent it might be.

He pulls his arms tighter across himself and rolls over so that his back faces outwards. With his face hidden, the tears start to fall against his will and he does nothing to stop them even though just moments ago he vowed that the past wouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t try to wipe them and lets the pain metastasize in his body, growing a tumor of emotions that can’t be cured by anything.

Time slips away from him as the memories and hurt wash over him. Anderson clears his throat to get Steve’s attention and starts to unlock the cell’s door.

“We took his keys so you can drive it home if you didn’t bring your own car,” Anderson says to Y/N.

She smiles and nods, taking the keys from him and clutching them as she stares at the sad excuse of a man laying on the bed. Steve wipes at his eyes and groans as he slides off of the hard jail bed. Shaking out his pillow coat, he puts it on before making eye contact with her. She sighes at him and thanks Anderson for all that he’s done even though it’s not procedure. When Steve stands, he sways and she’s quick to catch him, waving off Anderson who offers to take him. They don’t say anything to each other as she acts as his crutch and walk towards his car. She fumbles with the keys and drops them.

“Lean on the car,” she tells him as she bends down to pick them up, “Do you need my help getting in?”

He furrows his brow like a toddler, “No I can do it myself.”

Shaking her head at him, she unlocks the car and lets him struggle to fold his large body into the passenger side. She slides into the driver’s side and takes a deep breath. Never again did she think that she would dealing with Steve let alone driving his car as he’s almost black out drunk in the passagner seat.

He mumbles something along the lines of “It’s a remote start.”

Y/N hums her understanding and finds the button. It blinks to life and heavy metal music greets them at an unbearable volume. He whimpers at the noise and slams his hand onto the power button to turn it off as quick as he can. Satisfied that the offending noise has stopped, he curls into himself against the window and rests his head on the cool glass.

“Did you put your seat belt on?”

He answers by puling the belt over himself and clicking it into place.

She backs out of the spot and leaves the Sheriff’s station behind. Silence fills the space around them as the street lights and porch lights pass through the window. The lights splash across her face and unbeknownst to her, Steve is stealing glances at her through the window’s reflection. What little he can see of her breaks his heart even more as he can see the fatigue and hurt tense in her features. Her hair, usually styled and pristine, has been hastily clipped up with a claw clip that’s holding on for dear life. Under the long winter coat she’s wearing is just a pair of pj pants and a white crop top. She’s not even really wearing shoes but instead a pair of worn down clogs that should only be worn inside. Seeing how vulnerable she is, he can’t help himself grow protective and upset that she left in such a hurry.

“I hope you drove,” slips out albeit slurred.

“What?” she asks, quickly looking over at him.

“I said I hope you drove.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Do you see what you’re wearing?”

She blinks and scoffs at him, “I just picked your drunk ass up at 2 am and you want to lecture me about my clothing choices.”

“That’s not what I….”

She cuts him off, “Stop. You’re sleeping on the couch and I expect you to be gone when I wake up.”

“Honey.”

“Don’t. I already made myself clear earlier; I want nothing to do with you. I should’ve left you at the stupid station,” she mumbles the last part to herself but he still hears it and sews his mouth shut. The rest of the car ride back to her house is quiet aside from the normal noise of the car and the city.

She wants to regret hurting him with her words but she can’t find it in herself to care anymore. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the petty side of her that strives to inflict as much pain as she can onto him. He did deserve it after all and he’s not protesting at least out loud.

Internally he wants to confess his undying love for her but he knows she won’t care and it won’t change her mind. He does deserve all of her hate and anger. It’s all just no matter how harsh it might be.

Steve keeps stealing glances of her in his window’s reflection and accepts the heartache it induces. Her house comes into view and he can feel her relax when it does. She pauses before fully pulling it and has the garage door open to hide his car from sight in it.

Once inside, she turns it off and waits for the door to shut completely before getting out. Steve watches as she kicks her shoes off and takes off her coat, leaving her in her thin pjs. He climbs out and does the same as her. Following her inside, she instructs him to sit at the island like before while she goes to get him blankets and pillows.

His eyes find the Polaroid again and the memories replay again. The sound of Y/N dropping a stack of bedding brings him around again.

“Here’s a couple blankets and a pillow. Don’t worry about folding them, I'll have to wash them.”

She turns to leave but he calls out softly and stops her, “thank you.”

Her hand rests on the wall beside her and she drops her head to rest on it.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I want you back. I want YOU.”

She faces him again, “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to make a reappearance and magically everything goes back to how it was.”

Steve pushes off and is before her in a few short strides. He gently holds her face in his warm hands and refuses to let go even though she tugs lightly at his wrists.

“Give me another chance. Please honey, just one more chance,” he begs her as he touches his forehead to hers. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed and her breathing grows shallow, hot breath brushing against his face.

He nudges her head back and ghosts his lips over hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she doesn’t, he captures her lips in a slow and intimate kiss. Everything he’s felt over the last 10 years is flooding her as he moves his lips over hers. Every promise he’s made to himself in her name is conveyed as he sighed against her lips.

She’s the first to pull away and is shaking her head when she does so.

“No.”

#mob au #mafia! steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers x reader #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fine line steve rogers #steve x reader #Steve rogers #marvel imagine #mafia au

[evanesdust]

need you tonight (and always)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: POV Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Derek Hale, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Deputy Derek Hale, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Crushes, Confessions, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Knotting, Rimming, Second Chances, Getting Together

Summary:

On his way home from work, Stiles's Jeep broke down. Which normally wouldn't have been a problem, except his heat was two weeks early, so he needed to get home. Now. Fortunately, Deputy Derek came to his rescue—in more ways than one.

It was half past ten when Stiles's Jeep broke down.

"Fuck my life," he groaned, banging his head against the steering wheel. He chanted in prayer as he tried the ignition again. "Okay, c'mon, please start. Please start, please start, please start…"

Nothing.

He muttered a curse at the realization that he was stuck, stranded on the side of the road.

"Why now? Why? Why is this my life?" Because while he wasn't surprised the Jeep broke down—honestly, the damn thing was practically held together by duct tape and hope—Stiles would have preferred it to happen at literally any other time than right now.

His stomach cramped on cue, as if he needed to be reminded why his Jeep breaking down sucked so fucking bad right now. His heat hit early. He'd been at the library studying when he started feeling warm. There was already a light flush on his cheeks when he went to the bathroom, but he didn't think anything of it. Not even when he began to grow restless.

It wasn't until he got to work that afternoon that he noticed a lot of people turning his way, their noses held high as they sniffed the air. Two hours into his shift, his boss pulled him aside, telling him there were complaints about allowing an omega in heat to work without scent blockers.

Stiles argued that he wasn't in heat, but then the cramping started.

It played out like a bad movie. His stomach clenched, and his boxers grew damp with slick. Then Brett—a regular at the bakery—came in. He was always so nice, so Stiles was startled when Brett damn near dragged him over the counter and pinned him against it.

Brett's eyes flashed red, and he growled something about Stiles's scent but thankfully had enough control to pull himself away before doing anything more. As Brett ran out of the shop, he glanced over his shoulder, throwing Stiles an apologetic look.

Stiles bit back a curse. His heat wasn't due for another two weeks. Thankfully, he'd managed to make it through the rest of his shift without incident. Of course, it was also spent in the back office, filing paperwork at his boss's insistence.

Seriously, fuck his life.

Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Scott's number. He didn't have the time to try and figure out what was wrong with Roscoe, and who better to call to pick him up than his best friend-slash-roommate, right? Except Scott didn't answer.

So he tried again. "C'mon, Scottie. Pick up, pick up, pick up."

When the call clicked to voicemail for a second time, Stiles remembered Scott was out on a date.

"Wish I were on a fucking date," he muttered. Preferably with his crush, Derek Hale.

They'd met nearly six months ago at a bar. Stiles had been out with friends when Derek walked in. The attraction was immediate. One thing led to another, and within the hour, Derek had Stiles pinned up against a wall and then bent over his couch, their clothes haphazardly strewn around Derek's loft.

Unfortunately, while they had explosive chemistry, any chance of a second time was thrown out the window when Derek learned that Stiles was the sheriff's son. As it turned out, Derek was the newest deputy for the Beacon County Sheriff's Department and didn't want to risk any kind of conflict by screwing around with his boss's son.

Memories of the way Derek had touched him flash through Stiles's mind, making his body hot, his cock hard, and his hole slick.

God, what Stiles would do for a repeat. Seriously. Derek's dick was magnificent.

But that wasn't the only reason Stiles liked Derek. Sure, he was drawn in by Derek's stupidly handsome face, ridiculous muscles, and fantastic cock, but that wasn't what kept his crush alive all these months. Derek was genuinely one of the nicest guys Stiles had ever met. He was always volunteering at the local cat rescue in town. Not only changing the litter boxes and making sure the cats had food and water but also sitting with them. Seriously, the image of Derek Hale cuddling kittens was adorable.

Then, there was the time a storm blew through town, damaging some homes. Derek was the first person to grab a toolbox and ask what he could do to help. And, to top it off, Derek took in three betas who were without a pack. He provided them a safe haven, a home. A family. Honestly, Stiles admired the hell out of him.

Another cramp hit, pulling Stiles out of his thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he called his dad, but there was no answer. He wouldn't be surprised if his dad was still at work, so he called the sheriff's station.

"Beacon County Sheriff's Department. This is Deputy Hale speaking. How may I help you?"

"Er, he-ey, Deputy Hale." Stiles chuckled nervously because, of course, it would be Derek who answered. "It's Stiles."

"Hi, Stiles."

God, the way Derek says his name made a shiver run down Stiles's spine. His pants became uncomfortably damp.

"Stiles?"

"Sorry, um," Stiles cleared his throat. "Is my dad busy? I tried calling his cell, but he didn't answer."

There was some shuffling over the line, presumably as Derek got up from his desk to check.

"His door's closed. He's doing evals this week and called Graeme in a while ago, so he might still be with her. Is this an emergency? I can interrupt."

"Nonono," Stiles said quickly. "When he's done, can you just let him know that my Jeep died again? I'm sitting out by," he glanced around, trying to get a bearing for where he was, "Old Windsor Road."

"My shift's actually done. I can pick you up."

"No, that's— Really, you don't have to. Besides, if you did that, then you'd be going out of your way to take me home. I can wait until my dad's free." And the last thing Stiles needed was for Derek to scent his arousal. Just the thought of Derek being there made him leak more slick.

"Are you sure?" Before Stiles could answer, Derek said, "Actually, Tara just left his office. I'll transfer you now."

Oh, thank God. "Awesome. Thanks, Derek."

"No problem. Just one second."

There was a click and then the line rang twice before his dad picked up. "Sheriff Stilinski speaking."

"He-ey, Dad. You know how I'm your favorite son?"

"You're my only son."

"And therefore your favorite," Stiles insisted.

"Meh. Maybe if you visited more."

"Rude." Stiles rolled his eyes, too used to his dad's teasing. "Anyway, Roscoe died."

"Stiles…" His dad sighed. "I know how important the Jeep is to you, but—"

"I will never abandon this Jeep, you understand me? Ever." Though Stiles knew that at some point, someday, he'd have to give up his mom's old Jeep and find something more reliable. "I'm gonna fix her, but I need to get home first. I already tried Scott, but he didn't answer."

"Alright. Where are you?"

"I'm on—" Stiles was cut off by three rapid beeps. He realized his call dropped when he pulled his phone away from his ear. "Shit."

And, because his life sucked, his phone died as he tried to call back. And, naturally, his portable charger wasn't in the glove compartment where it should be.

Seriously, fuck his life.

What was that old saying? When it rains, it pours? Well, right now, it was a damn torrential downpour.

"I charged you!" Stiles yelled, glaring at his phone as if that would magically turn it back on.

The car was suddenly too small, the metal exterior closing in around him as anger and frustration coursed through his veins, so he climbed out, slamming the door behind him.

The moon hung high in the sky as Stiles paced along the edge of the preserve. The trees cast ominous shadows in the early autumn breeze, their dark fingers stretching toward him in the moonlight.

He'd seen enough horror movies to be freaked out by being alone this close to the woods. These kinds of situations never ended well for guys who were one hundred and forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bone—not to mention how bad his luck had already been tonight.

No, stop!

He was a grown man; he was absolutely not scared. Nope.

A cool gust of wind breezed over Stiles, and he briskly rubbed his hands over his arms, smoothing away the goosebumps as he blew out a breath. "Okay. Okay. This is fine. Everything's fine."

Famous last words.

His stomach clenched, and he hoped his dad was on the way because he seriously needed to get home as soon as possible. He needed his dildo—the knotting one if the way his hole clenched desperately around nothing was any indication.

He briefly considered walking to his dad's. It was closer than his apartment, and he knew he could hole up in his old room during his heat because, as much as he loved Scott, he'd rather have his dad checking in on him. Scott's alpha control was good but not great, and it was always awkward when Scott popped boners just because Stiles was in heat.

But his phone was dead, and there was no way he was walking through the woods without a light source. Plus, if any random alpha came across him… Nope, Stiles didn't even want to think about that. Instead, he thought about his bed and dildo. Absolutely not about Derek because that just made him clench with need. Fuck, he really needed to be filled. Like right now.

It was only a few minutes before a siren wailed and headlights appeared around the bend. Red and blue lights flashed atop the sheriff's cruiser that parked behind Stiles's Jeep, and Stiles sighed in relief.

The driver's side door opened and a tall figure walked toward him, but the moonlight wasn't enough for Stiles to make out any details. It had to be his dad, though.

"Oh, thank God. You have no idea how happy I am to see y—" Stiles stopped short because the person coming closer wasn't his dad.

Fuck.

Seriously, no one should look that good in a uniform, but Derek was easily the most gorgeous man Stiles had ever seen.

Stiles's eyes swept over Derek, whose uniform fit so snugly it practically clung to him—so taut across his thighs, hips, and broad chest it was just shy of indecent. Derek was the epitome of sex on legs. A walking wet dream.

God, and those arms!

Stiles couldn't help but remember how those muscular, tanned biceps held him against a wall as Derek fucked him senseless.

Derek's nostrils flared.

Stiles flushed in embarrassment, in complete mortification. Derek was an alpha werewolf, so there was no way he couldn't smell Stiles's arousal or the slick that was now dripping down his legs. "I am so sorry! What are you doing here?"

"Told your dad I'd pick you up," Derek said, his words now slurring around his fangs. His eyes flashed crimson as his nostrils flared again.

With supernatural speed, Derek was on top of Stiles, pressing him against the Jeep with his face shoved against the crook of Stiles's neck.

Stiles sucked in a breath because that shouldn't have been as hot as it was, but he lost all train of thought because Derek's scruff felt fantastic against his skin.

He moaned wantonly. His cock was hard—painfully so—and he was pretty sure if he dropped trou right now, his boxers would land on the ground with a sickening splat.

"Oh my God, yes!" Stiles gripped Derek's hips, rutting against him as Derek mouthed at his neck. "Pleasepleaseplease."

He'd been tempted to ask Derek about helping him through his heat, but he didn't think Derek would do it since he'd shut down any possibility of a relationship, and Stiles didn't want to make things awkward. Not to mention, Derek probably would have said no, considering Stiles was still the sheriff's son.

Derek wrenched himself away, his chest heaving and his hands clenched at his sides as if it was taking everything to hold himself back. "Get in the cruiser and go."

"Wait, what?" Stiles frowned, confused. 

"I don't—I need—my control…" Derek growled. "You need to go. Now. I can't—I can't control myself around you."

"Why?"

That didn't make any sense because Derek always had impeccable control. Anytime there was a call involving an omega in heat, Derek was the only alpha his dad trusted to deal with it. Like Scott, most alphas had at least some reaction to an omega in heat, like popping a boner or beta-shifting. Not Derek, though. It had earned him quite the reputation and was another reason Stiles thought so highly of him.

"Because it's you!" Derek growled again. "God, your scent. I can't—"

"What about my scent?" Stiles crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed, even though all he wanted to do was get on all fours and present his ass to Derek for the taking.

Derek let out a pained whine. "You smell like cinnamon rolls and home. Sweet and familiar."

Oh.

Oh.

Stiles's eyes went wide. Derek liked him.

Derek liked him.

But why? Their situation hadn't changed at all. Stiles was still the sheriff's son, and if Derek really did like him, he would have said something before now. Right?

Still, all Stiles could think was, "You mean we could have been together this entire time? Months of sex! We've missed months of sex!" His yell echoed through the trees. Shit. Okay, he definitely hadn't meant to say all that out loud. "Not that I just want you for your dick or anything," he quickly added, "but I'm in heat and horny and you're standing there, staring at me like you wanna eat me."

Derek growled again, and when Stiles glanced at him, it looked like Derek was seriously second-guessing his taste in men. Or, at least, his attraction to Stiles. But Stiles couldn't really focus on that right now because he was in heat, and Derek had already admitted to liking him. So, no, Stiles didn't feel bad about being an antagonizing little shit. Not at all.

Plus, there were instincts at play. He was an omega in heat with a very attractive alpha werewolf looking at him like he was the most desirable prey. Like he'd love to just devour Stiles.

And Stiles was more than willing to let him. So, instead of getting in the cruiser, he smirked and stepped back.

"Stiles." Derek's voice was hard, like he was warning Stiles not to tempt him.

Well, where was the fun in that? So without a second thought, Stiles ran.

A howl rang out behind him, the sound echoing through the preserve. Stiles swore he could feel it in his bones, shaking his very core—Derek was calling for him, and Stiles desperately wanted to answer.

His pulse skyrocketed. He let out a shuddering breath as blood surged to his head, drowning out nearly everything until he heard the snap of a branch breaking. The sound filled him with a rush of excitement. His breath hitched and he forced himself to pick up his speed.

Another branch broke, and then another. The sound grew closerclosercloser, and when Stiles glanced behind himself, he tripped and fell onto his ass in his haste to get away. Rocks and twigs dug into his palms as he pushed himself up. He didn't bother dusting off the dirt as he spun on his heels and started to run again.

There was no way he was making this easy for Derek.

Another howl broke through the trees, only this time, it sounded almost gleeful.

Stiles ran until his lungs burned—until his legs gave out. He was pretty sure that Derek could have taken him down by now, but it was like Derek was teasing him.

Like this was a game, and Stiles was the prize.

Stiles pivoted, trying not to trip again as he crouched against a fallen oak tree. His skin tingled, his stomach swooping, and his heart beating an erratic tempo against his ribcage as he tried to outrun an alpha werewolf.

Thwack.

Stiles banged his head against the tree trunk before hauling himself up. His thighs burned as he ran again, wincing as the leaves crunched beneath his feet, giving away his position.

Come on, Stiles, think!

There was a snap of another branch breaking. Stiles blanched as he fell again, and then—

He was pinned. Derek's hard body pressed him to the ground, his teeth settling against Stiles's neck. All it would take was the slightest pressure to pierce his flesh. So Stiles waited.

Only it never came. He whined as the weight on his back disappeared, and then he heard a groan.

Stiles tried to flip over, but strong hands gripped his hips, keeping him still. He squealed in surprise when Derek shoved his face between Stiles's ass cheeks, inhaling like a man starved for air.

Stiles's hole clenched in response, and a thick line of slick dripped between his thighs. Derek released a pleased rumble-purr and lapped at the wet spot on the back of Stiles's pants.

God, Stiles was so ready for Derek to fuck him now.

"I will," Derek said, his voice low and rough.

Shit. Stiles must have said that out loud.

"Please. Please, Derek." Stiles seriously needed to be filled—needed something as the first wave of heat took over.

"I've got you, baby."

Stiles had never really cared for terms of endearment, but Derek could call him anything right now, and he wouldn't care.

Cold air hit Stiles's ass as the back of his jeans and boxers were ripped open, the tattered fabric falling against his thighs. He glanced over his shoulder and glared, but the look of hunger on Derek's face instantly made him forget why he was mad.

Then Stiles forgot how to breathe because Derek's face was back between his asscheeks, his breath ghosting along the crack, followed by strong, slow sweeps of his tongue over Stiles's hole.

"Taste so good," Derek murmured like he was unwilling to pull away for even a second. "Missed this. Dreamt about tasting you again."

Derek's fingers joined in on the action, and Stiles reached back, brazenly spreading himself wide open for Derek.

It was like every sensation has been amplified by a thousand. Every bead of sweat felt heavy on Stiles's skin; the tickle and scratch of Derek's scruff against his ass sent jolts of pleasure up Stiles's spine. He was so keyed up that it wouldn't take long for him to get off with the way Derek was working him over.

"You have such a greedy hole. So hot and tight, sucking me in like you'll never get enough," Derek praised, his voice gruff as he crooked his fingers just right. Stiles cried out, barely managing to snake a hand under himself to wrap around his own cock before it pulsed, the warmth of his release spilling over his fingers. Still, he kept stroking until he had nothing left and his muscles stopped convulsing.

Derek growled hungrily, flipping Stiles over to lap at his balls and spent cock. Stiles lifted his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers, smirking when Derek growled again. Then Stiles moaned as Derek grabbed his hand, bringing it to his mouth, lapping up the rest of the cum on Stiles's fingers.

"Oh, fuck. That's hot." Once Derek licked every trace of cum from his fingers, Stiles asked, "Are you gonna fuck me now?"

Derek grunted, and somehow Stiles knew that was Derek-speak for 'yes.' Except instead of lining his cock up and driving into Stiles, Derek stood, easily hoisting Stiles up with him, too—one hand settled on his ass to hold him up. Stiles instinctively wrapped his legs around Derek's waist and opened his mouth to ask where they were going.

"Not here," Derek interrupted before Stiles could even speak. "I'm not knotting you in the middle of the woods."

Stiles bit back a grin. He loved that even though Derek's control was tenuous right now, he had enough sense for that. He also loved that Derek slid two fingers into his hole, knowing how desperate he was to be filled. Stiles clenched around his fingers and moaned. Now that he'd had an orgasm, it would be wave after wave of heat for the next four days. He couldn't even bring himself to care that Derek was carrying him through the woods, ass out on display for all to see while Derek was still fully clothed in his deputy's uniform.

"Ah, God, your fingers feel so good." Stiles rolled his hips and mouthed at Derek's neck. When Derek crooked his fingers just right, Stiles moaned again.

It wasn't enough, though. Stiles became frustrated as he keened and pushed back for more.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry," Derek said, adding a third finger. "We're almost there, I promise."

Stiles didn't respond, palming himself until he came again, Derek's name on his lips. Always Derek. Only Derek.

Derek increased his pace, and soon, they were in front of a house Stiles had never seen before.

"Where—?"

"It's the pack house," Derek told him, pausing at the base of the front porch steps. Stiles whined when Derek's fingers slipped out of him. "It's okay, it's okay," Derek soothed. He shrugged out of his jacket, quickly covering Stiles's ass before hurrying up the steps and kicking the door open so hard it splintered the wood.

Stiles blushed at the thoughtfulness.

There was a snort, and when Stiles glanced over his shoulder, he saw Derek's beta, Erica, standing in the entryway. Her arms were crossed, and she had a perfectly plucked brow raised. "The door was unlocked, y'know?"

"Not now, Erica!" Derek barked out, tromping past both her and one of the other betas that Derek took in a few months ago. Boyd, if Stiles remembered correctly. Everything was getting hazy, though. All he wanted right now was for Derek to fill him. He wanted Derek's knot.

Derek growled and carried him up the stairs, but not before Stiles distantly heard Erica call out, "We're going to meet Isaac at the bar. Don't do anything I wouldn't d—"

However, her words were cut off as soon as Derek slammed his bedroom door shut.

Derek was surprisingly gentle when he laid Stiles on the center of the bed, considering he had practically devolved into a caveman. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, illuminating Stiles as he fisted the soft, silky sheets. It was like he was under a spotlight.

"Derek. Derek, please. Want you to fuck me so bad," Stiles said, unable to keep quiet under Derek's scrutinizing gaze. "Need you."

The pleas must have worked because the next thing he knew, they were both naked, and Derek's deliciously warm body was blanketing him.

Stiles trembled as Derek's hands trailed over his body, sliding down his sides to his thighs, urging Stiles to spread his legs. Derek settled between them, cupping Stiles's ass and lifting him slightly.

Derek's fingers were at Stiles's hole again, gathering slick on his fingers, then running them over his—quite honestly—massive cock and getting it wet.

"Are you ready?" Derek asked breathlessly, lining himself up.

Stiles's back arched off the bed as he looked up at Derek with desperate, pleading eyes. "Fuck me. Need it. Need to feel you inside of me. Pleasepleaseplease."

Derek growled and rocked forward, sliding inside him with one smooth thrust. Stiles cried out and threw his head back. When Derek found an angle that had him hitting Stiles's prostate with every thrust, Stiles released the white-knuckle grip he had on the sheets in favor of raking his blunt nails down Derek's back.

The bed creaked as they rocked in perfect rhythm, and Stiles mindlessly murmured his pleasure. Yes. More. Fuckfuckfuck.

Derek growled with each thrust, repeating the same word over and over again. "Mine."

"Yours," Stiles assured him. "Only yours. My alpha."

"Mine."

"Yoursyoursyours," Stiles cried as he dug his feet into the firm, muscular globes of Derek's ass.

Derek growled against his neck, nipping and sucking what were sure to be dark, red bruises into his skin. "You don't even know—fuck—how much I've missed this. Wanted this. God, Stiles—"

Stiles muttered a string of curses and pleas as Derek fucked him mercilessly, sending jolts of white-hot electricity throughout his body.

"Fuck," Derek moaned, rutting into Stiles—faster, deeper, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a syncopated rhythm against their primal grunts and groans and Stiles's helpless whimpers.

His hole pulsed around Derek's cock. His legs clenched around Derek's waist, and he came for the third time that night with a shout, stifling his scream into the crook of Derek's neck as he shook through his release.

Derek kissed him, hot and insistent. Stiles couldn't help but moan into Derek's mouth when his hole stretched even more as Derek's knot swelled. It caught against Stiles's rim a few times until Derek couldn't pull out any longer. Every pulse of Derek's cock sent shock waves through Stiles's body. He'd never felt so full. So sated.

Stiles was hypnotized by the look of pleasure that contorted Derek's face. It was a look of almost-awed pain, as if this were so good, it might just kill him.

Derek ground against him forcefully until Stiles cried out Derek's name again as another orgasm hit him out of nowhere. It was everything he'd ever wanted, yet more than he'd ever dreamed of at the same time. He felt amazing—panting hard and completely out of breath while his whole body tingled with pleasure.

So good, so perfect.

"Mine," Derek said again, collapsing on Stiles's chest. They were slick with sweat, but neither could be bothered to move.

Stiles could tell Derek was in full control again when he trailed a hand down his side, his touch featherlight.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Derek asked quietly.

"No. Feels good. So full." Stiles blushed when Derek pushed up from his elbows to look down between them. As he pictured his hole stretched over Derek's knot, he clenched reflexively, sending another shiver down his spine.

God. His hole probably looked fucking obscene.

Derek made a pained sound and grabbed Stiles's hips to still him. "Keep doing that and it won't go down any time soon."

"How long?" Stiles asked since Derek hadn't knotted him the last time.

Derek leaned down, nuzzling into the crook of Stiles's neck. "Don't know. I've never actually knotted anyone before."

The news surprised Stiles. "You haven't?"

"I've never wanted to."

"But you do now?" Because Derek liked him. For some reason, Stiles pictured Sandra Bullock's character from Miss Congeniality and sang, "You think I'm gorgeous. You want to date me. You want to love me. Marry me."

"Yes. I want that," Derek said seriously before his face softened. "Somehow, despite the fact that you're clearly insane—"

"Hey!"

"—I like you. I always have, but I was being stupid."

"You were," Stiles said with a nod, smiling softly as his heart flipped in his chest. "Not gonna let you be stupid anymore."

"I know. In fact, I already asked your dad for his permission to—"

"You asked my dad," Stiles interrupted, "for permission to date me?"

"I asked him how he would feel if we started dating." Derek held his finger to Stiles's lips to stop him from interrupting again. "It was just a courtesy since he is my boss, but I've been working up the courage to ask you out for the past few months. Him saying yes was just reassurance because if you hated me at all, then I'm pretty sure he would have told me not to bother."

"Months?" Stiles shook his head, not understanding why Derek would think he hated him.

"I know I messed things up when I found out you were my boss's son. You've kept your distance, and I was sure it was because you didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"That's not true! I was respecting your decision."

"I know. I know that now." Derek brushed his fingers down the side of Stiles's face, smiling softly.

Stiles sighed. "Well, at least that explains why my dad was acting weird during dinner last week. He kept grinning. It was…disturbing."

Derek chuckled. "Speaking of which…do you wanna let your dad or Scott know that you'll be spending your heat here?"

"Yeah, I should. Can I borrow your phone? Mine's dead."

"Of course."

Thankfully, Derek's pants were close, so he was able to grab his cell phone with a minimal amount of maneuvering. Stiles sent a quick message to both his dad and Scott so they didn't worry. Then, as much as he hated to admit it, exhaustion pulled at him. Multiple orgasms in a short amount of time would do that to a person.

He yawned. "'m tired."

"Okay." Derek kissed his shoulder. "Sleep. I'll get you cleaned up as soon as my knot goes down."

Stiles whined at the thought of not being filled.

"Shh...it's okay. Trust me, baby. I'll take care of you," Derek said, giving him a sweet kiss. "Wait, let's—" He wrapped his arms around Stiles and carefully flipped them until Stiles was lying on top of him. "There. How's that? More comfortable?"

Stiles mumbled his agreement incoherently, even though he would have been perfectly fine with Derek's weight over him. Derek's knot tugged deliciously at his rim, but he couldn't stop his eyes from closing. With Derek's arms holding him tightly, he fell asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of Derek's chest against his cheek and a warm, happy feeling in his gut. One that was filled with promises of tomorrow, their future, and forever.

#sterek #sterek fic #sterek au #holy shit i wrote something

[winchestergirl2]

October Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs List

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

The One That Got Away Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | @pink-sparkly-witch

Authors Summary: Childhood sweethearts, Dean and Y/N, are very much in love with each other. When she accepts a full scholarship to an out-of-state college, she finally gets to leave behind her traumatic childhood and abusive father, but it means leaving Dean behind too.

Over a decade later, Y/N returns to Lawrence, Kansas, and finally tries to heal the only wounds she has left… the psychological and emotional scars her father gave her and the heartbreak she endured by Dean Winchester, the one that got away.

Smoke Eater Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | @zepskies

Authors Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

Escape Chapter 66 | Chapter 67 | Chapter 68 | @soaringeag1e

Authors Summary: A serial killer is reeking havoc around Lawrence, Kansas, and Detective Dean Winchester is getting really sick of finding more and more bodies. But one day, he gets a call about another victim. But instead of the location of another body, he gets news that this one escaped the hell of this mans actions.

Massages And More @miss-madness67

Authors Summary: Dean really likes your massage.

Meant To Be Mine @negans-lucille-tblr

Authors Summary: A mix up leads to life changing consequences. 

Sam Winchester

Yellow @idreamofhazel

Authors Summary: I listened to Yellow by Coldplay and got inspired. 

Untitled Sam Winchester Drabble @supernaturalfreewill

Relax @imagineteamfreewill

Authors Summary: It’s almost the end of the semester and your schedule is jam-packed, leaving you stressed, overwhelmed, and overtired. Thankfully, Sam Winchester is the best at helping you relax.

Family Friends and Loved Ones @waywardxwords

Authors Summary: You make it home for Thanksgiving to see your family again, bringing Sam and Dean with you.

The Boys

Soldier Boy

New Blood @wayward-dreamer

Authors Summary: The executives at Vought American are enamoured by the new supe at the annual shareholders party, hoping to make her a new addition to Payback. Soldier Boy isn't pleased with the idea, as he's the only one who gets to decide who joins his team. He tells her this fact, and braces himself for a fight, but gets something much better out of their encounter.

Friday the 13th

Clay Miller

Flyers @plus-size-reader

Authors Summary: Going out with Clay to help look for Whitney and bonding with him in a way that you never have before

Friday The 13th (2009) @bored-writer101

Authors Summary: You are Clay Miller’s girlfriend. He’s taken you to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, looking for his sister, Whitney. She’s been missing for a month and a half after she went on a camping trip with some friends. You and Clay are determined to find her, but there is a hockey masked killer who is waiting in the woods for you.

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Wonderwall @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: teasing beau during work and leaving without finishing. when he gets home he wants to pick up where they left off.

Only Ever Holding Onto You Part 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: When Beau Arlen called and asked Y/N to join him at the Lewis & Clark County Sheriff's Department, she knew she should have turned him down. Sure, he made a great case for her relocation, but it was the sound of his voice that had her put in for an immediate transfer. After all, he was worried and needed her; how could she say no? Yet, the more time she spends in Big Sky Country, the more Y/N wonders if she should have stayed in Houston.

Untitled Beau Arlen Drabble @smellingofpoetry

Montana Stars @spnbaby-67

Authors Summary Just cute one shot between Beau Arlen and his girl, Y/N.

Chicago Fire

Matt Casey

Better late than never @deanstead

Authors Summary: After witnessing Y/N’s interaction with Connor, Matt finally decides to tell her how he feels

Imagine: Seeing Matt at Molly's after returning to Chicago @deanstead

Untitled Matt Casey Drabble @deanstead

Authors Summary: Matt surprising his wife with a puppy

Ten Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

Movie Night To Remember @daughterofcain-67

Authors Summary: In honor of spooky season, The Beach City Grill is throwing a Horror movie night event by putting on the movie Scream! The employees are excited, and so are some of the regulars. Your friends, Piper, Jen and Tish invite you to come because she knows you're another regular at the grill. But the thing is, you hate scary movies, crime shows or anything dealing with blood. Which will be scarier? Actually watching this movie, or embarrassing yourself in front of a guy you like?

The Body @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: tish dared priestly to wear a dress to work in exchange for a week off.

Smallville

Jason Teague

Assistant Hottie @zepskies

Authors Summary: Jason Teague, Assistant Football Coach, meets you in the faculty break lounge at Smallville High. He tries to kick you out, thinking you’re a student. Technically, you are. Turns out, you both go to the same university. 

#winchestergirl2 reads #winchestergirl2 recs #fic recs #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #clay miller x reader #clay miller fic #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen fic #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #matt casey x reader #matt casey fic #boaz priestly x reader #boaz priestly fic #priestly x reader #priestly fic #jason teague x reader #jason teague fic

[beautifuldisaster88]

Forever by my side

A/N: After coming across the gif, this idea randomly came to me. If I get the inspiration, I MIGHT make a part two. I used the same McKenzie/Kenzie, but you can picture reader as yourself or whoever you want. The only description of reader is; female, 17, eye color (mentioned only once) Rafe always called her 'bunny'

Summary: Rafe's girlfriend is John B's twin sister and he tells her everything. She's seen a lot of bad shit, but swore to always keep her mouth shut because she loves Rafe. Ward on the other hand becomes Paranoid that the Routledge girl will go to the sheriff, so he takes matters into his own hands, causing his son to finally snap.

Warnings: mentions of murder, actual murder, violence, Rafe seeing hallucinations not knowing it's not real, cursing, mentions of torture. I think that's it?

Rafe's tall frame appeared in the doorway. The young man looked at his father, Ward Cameron, as he made his way inside his office. What the hell did Ward want from him now? He didn't have time for this shit.

"What the hell do you want, dad? I already told you that I need to find-"

The dirty blonde was cut off by Ward, clearly making Rafe grow even more irritated.

"That's why I called you in here, son. You don't have to worry about that anymore. It's all been ta-"

Ward was then cutoff by a breaking news report on the TV. The older Cameron man sighed, knowing exactly what the news report was about. He was hoping to be the one to break it to Rafe before anyone else.

"Breaking News. Kildare County Sheriff's department was called out to the marsh earlier this morning, witnesses claiming they spotted a body."

The news reporter began, immediately catching Rafe's attention. He ignored his father, giving the TV his full attention. Outer Banks wasn't a big place, so it was more than likely that Rafe knew whoever's body was found. The last thing he ever expected to hear came next.

"According to Sheriff Shoupe, 17 year old McKenzie Routledge's body washed up early this morning. It's still unclear how the young girl died, and the Sheriff's department is currently undergoing an investigation. If you have any information we urge you to call the Sheriff's department. We will update you with new information as it becomes available. McKenzie left behind her twin brother, John B Routledge, not even a year after the death of their father. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends."

Rafe stood there frozen in place, his heart breaking and ears ringing, as tears fell from his eyes. Not his Kenzie, please, anyone but her. Who would want to hurt her, she was always nothing but sweet to everyone and she had no enemies. That's when it hit him.

He violently jerked his body around to face Ward, Rafe's blood already beginning to boil as his heart shattered into a million pieces.

"What the fuck did you do!?" Rafe screamed as he began to pace, jabbing his finger into his own chest. "I-I loved her, dad! She fucking saved me, saw me for me! W-why would you take her from me!? She never fucking hurt anyone!"

"Rafe, I need you to calm down. I did what I had to do.. to protect us... Protect you. The Routledge girl knew too much, and it was only a matter of time before she slipped up and told someone. She had to go, son. I did this for you."

Now Rafe was beyond angry, his vision immediately turning red, blurred with tears. He grabbed Ward by the collar of his shirt and slammed the older Cameron man violently against the wall. Rafe got right in his face, seething like a rabid animal. His piercing blue eyes were now dark.

"You didn't fucking do shit for me! You never have! You fucking killed her for your own selfish fucking needs! She's not like the other Pogues and she would have never opened her fucking mouth! You took away my only happiness! The only girl I have ever fucking loved! I swear to you, I will fucking kill you, but first I'm going to make you suffer, just like you did to my Kenzie. You're not my father, you're nothing but a pathetic, scared piece of shit. The scum on the bottom of my shoe. It's fucking over for you, Ward! I will avenge my love's death."

Rafe had his hand gripped around Ward's throat so tight, that he looked at the man with a sinister smile, tears still running down his face. He watched as Ward tried to gasp for air, clawing at his son's hand as his eyes and face began to turn colors. Rafe was going to kill Ward eventually, but first he wanted him to suffer, until he was begging Rafe to kill him.

A dark laugh rumbled deep from Rafe's chest, a clear sign that the Cameron boy had officially completely lost it. Ward tried to beg Rafe to stop, barely able to speak from his airway being cut off.

"Did you make my Kenzie beg for her life too, huh? Is the last thing you saw were those beautiful emerald green eyes filled with tears, begging you not to hurt her!? She was fucking innocent! Would've taken our secrets to her motherfucking grave... Which ironically enough, she did all because of you."

Rafe then began to repeatedly slam the back of Ward's head against the wall, over and over again, as his fist connected with Ward's face, jaw, nose, you name it. The Cameron boy beat the man he once looked up to to a bloody pulp, before literally dragging him down the stairs and into the basement, where he threw Ward inside the wine cellar.

Weeks went by, and nobody had heard from Ward. Rafe played the distraught son, acting like he was worried sick about his missing father, when the truth was he had him locked away where nobody would find him, Ward's days were numbered. Rafe had used every type of torture imaginable.

The worst part about the Cameron boy finally completely snapping? He held full on conversations with his Kenzie, as if she was standing right beside him, telling her that he was going to kill Ward for her. In Rafe's mind, Kenzie WAS there, even responding to him when he spoke.

"I love you, Rafey. I knew that I could always count on you to keep me safe. Once Ward is out of the picture, it'll be just you and me. We can finally leave this island and start our life together, away from everyone."

Rafe grinned like a maniac, looking directly at his Kenzie, when in reality he was looking at nothing. She wasn't there, she was dead, but he refused to believe that.

"I'll always protect you, bunny. This time next week, you and I will be on a private beach somewhere far away, sipping on cocktails and fucking under the sunlight. Ward is barely hanging on, and tomorrow is when we finally end him. I'm gonna marry you, Kenzie, yeah? Make you my wife and have a bunch of little ones running around. 'm gonna give you the world, baby."

Rafe caressed her cheek, actually caressing thin air, as he leaned his forehead against 'McKenzie's.

"I can't wait, Rafey. Now, come on, baby, we have a gruesome murder to prepare for. Don't listen when Ward tries to convince you that I'm not real. He's just trying to get you on his side, save his own ass. You can see me, touch me, feel me, you know I'm real, right baby?"

"Of course you're real, bunny. I don't believe anything Ward says, talking about he killed you. And they say I'm the crazy one? He's the one talking about you being dead, when I'm holding you in my arms right now."

The next night, Rafe murdered Ward, with his Kenzie by his side, cheering him on. He stabbed him over and over again, the same way that Ward had killed McKenzie, but in Rafe's mind both him and his Kenzie came up with the idea.

After disposing of Ward's body, the same exact way Ward had disposed of McKenzie's, Rafe packed his and Kenzie's bags and loaded up the truck. The two of them, in reality just Rafe, left the Outer Banks and never looked back.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx #unhinged #rafe x reader #my fic #short blurb #unhinged rafe #hallucinations

[strangefable]

The Chariot

Micah Hale, Deputy, Hope County Sheriff Department

The Chariot is a card of willpower, transformation, confidence and determination. It's a card of forward movement and action, determinedly pushing into victory and overcoming challenges. It's a card of intention and resolve, facing obstacles head-on and never backing down.

For Micah, her motorcycle is her chariot, a symbol of her sense of self and her sense of freedom. The wings and antlers are symbolic of both her past and the guiding forces in her life, as well as representing her status as 'Rook' and her place with the Whitetail Militia.

Instead of the traditional wand, she's holding scales, weighed with planes. The allusion to John is obvious, as is her precarious balance between the Resistance and the Project; her torn loyalties and her desire to balance them despite all odds being against her.

Her sphinxes are Boomer and Peaches, opposing forces of their own that she walks between, keeping them together and working smoothly, and earning the loyalty of difficult and varied personalities.

Ultimately, she's a harbinger to both the Project and the Resistance, a hero and villain to both sides of the conflict, desperately, and vainly, trying to forge a path to peace.

She fits both upright and reversed readings of the card, as torn as she is in an impossible scenario she can't win, yet she never quite gives up.

All my deepest heartfelt gratitude to @redreart for so beautifully bringing this concept to life for me. She took my idea and turned it into something beyond my wildest dreams. The details are so perfect, from the colors to Micah's hair... every little bit is all I could've asked for and more. Thank you for bringing my girl to life so incredibly! <3 If you get the opportunity for a commission, don't hesitate! <3 <3

#micah hale #fc5 #far cry 5 #fc5 deputy #boomer #peaches #tarot #the chariot #redreart #awesome art #commission for me #this is everything to me absolutely *everything* #my birthday is next week and i couldn't have asked for better timing #i tried to make a proper write-up but i'm absolutely beside myself over this so forgive me if it's a little incoherent #it's so so so so perfect better than even my imagination #my whole heart is in this piece #it's HER and it's got just the right infusions of john happening and i'm just completely obsessed #my baby my deputy my girl look at her #thank you again redre <3 <3 <3

[the-silver-chronicles]

Far Cry The Inquisitor's Chime AU post #1

Trigger warning: Character death (the kill count is high).

Information about the AU/Canon Divergences from Far Cry 5 and Far Cry The Silver Chronicles that I have so far:

Joseph, John and Jacob Seed have encountered Silva three years prior to the events of FC5, however, the brothers never get her name. However, Faith does not meet Silva in that time.

Lana and Selena's loved ones hire Silva (at her prompting in Wyoming at a McDonalds owned by Paul's mafia) to find out what happened to the girls.

Nancy's fucking dead. Bludgeoned to death (by Silva) three years prior to the events of FC5, inside the Sheriff's Department, and her ties to Eden's Gate were found (but not enough to rule it as espionage). The Sheriff's Department is now more cautious with who they hire, not wanting to risk Eden's Gate sabotaging any legal work. Therefore (unintentionally on Silva's part) hindering Eden's Gate in understanding when and how the warrant for Joseph's arrest was going to occur.

Mary May's father (named Gary here like in Far Cry Absolution) is killed inside the Widowmaker three years prior to the events of FC5 (by Eden's Gate after he attempted to kill John), and the Widowmaker is irreparably wrecked/inoperable as well.

Silva (disguised as Detective Enid Clarance) manages to deceive John into admitting that Gary Fairgrave's death was not a simple car crash but more self-defence (Gary was trying to kill John after all). Though this manages to destroy the cover-up story that Gary died in an automobile accident and gives the Fairgraves conclusive evidence that Eden's Gate was at least involved and lied about it.

Silva gets Joseph's confession (at gunpoint) on Lana and Selena's disappearances and deaths, but not about their role as "Faith" (when Joseph mentions them being "worthy of Faith" (or something like that), Silva misunderstands his wording and believes he wants to talk about his teachings, not about the actual role, and basically tells him to get back on topic of the girls' disappearances, which Joseph takes full advantage of, knowing Silva would probably not take it well that he's still doing this to other women).

The Seed brothers never get any video footage of Silva. Not even her name.

Silva gets John and Joseph's confessions of their involvement in Gary Fairgrave's death and Lana & Selena's disappearances respectively (however, it's only enough to bring the Fairgrave family and Lana and Selena's loved one's closure or a good indication that Eden's Gate was involved).

Feeney is killed by Silva a month or two before the Arrest on Joseph. Jacob and Silva had raced to Feeney's residence, and Jacob's interference caused Silva to accidently fire upon Feeney, which killed an important figure to Bliss production but denied Silva any information she would have gotten from Feeney.

Kamski Neon (Silva's personal doctor and right-hand man) buys off Feeney's Residence and transforms it into his personal laboratory.

Faith and Silva officially meet either a few weeks/a month or two before Joseph's arrest, at a bus stop in the rain. Neither Silva nor Faith know who the other is, and they just strike up a conversation while Silva holds an umbrella. The topic eventually reaches the book that Silva was reading which Faith recognises from her time as Rachel in the Free Spirit Movement, and they bond over that until Silva has to catch her bus but leaves Faith with her umbrella. This is the point where feelings spark between them, and their romance begins.

Silva (over the past three years) has been building up a good reputation amongst the residents, earning their trust, helping the community, using her resources and connections to repay the debt she feels she owes to the people who helped her eight years ago. (Not determined if they recognise her or not). Most of them don't know about her criminal connections (and the few who do are in league with her since she is actually doing some good which is better than the American Government's done for them).

At one point before Feeney's death, Gavin Turquoise (Silva's friend, John's lawyer rival in Hope County and #1 Eden's Gate hater) gets kidnapped by John and Jacob to try and intimidate him into buying out (unbeknownst to them) Silva's compound in the Henbane River (as they've never noticed it before and want it as an outpost). Gavin (blindfolded) initially freaks out thinking they're with Silva (the first time two of the brother's hear the name but still have no idea who it is) but then realises they're Eden's Gate and convinces them to let him go (he is a very public figure and his disappearance would only prove to the locals that he was right about Eden's Gate, which would decrease converts and bring more trouble than it's worth to Eden's Gate).

Danny (Hudson's former police partner) was a part of Paul's mafia and was helping them weed out any Omar's Guard in Hope County (with Silva's permission since she runs the American branch). However, this got him killed, but he was avenged.

Hudson and Pratt discover Danny's involvement with the Yellowjack Mafia Family, but Paul employs (blackmails) them. The two deputies find they actually kind of like working under Silva, Pratt for the escapism while Hudson can help take down Omar's Guard.

Joseph Seed's arrest is a success (Silva orchestrated the whole thing through her connections, providing Burke and the Sheriff's Department a proper task force). However, Gavin Turquoise represents himself as Joseph's lawyer (albeit reluctantly), and manages to bail Joseph out (much to Burke and the Sheriff Department's frustration). Joseph meets Silva in a car, and he instantly recognises her and the fact he is probably in danger (given the knowledge she's a major criminal member in a mafia largely unknown to the global public). She ensures he knows she doesn't care about his prophecy (in fact despises it) and that Eden's Gate are going to do things differently from now on (working under her).

The Reaping does not happen in this AU, which is a first! This is also officially the second time in an AU the Collapse does not occur either (the first being Far Cry The Harbinger's Salvation).

Since the Reaping doesn't happen... Rae-Rae, Eli, Virgil, Whitehorse, Dutch, Alex and several others are alive.

Burke discovers Pratt and Hudson's (corruption? espionage?) mafia connections, and confronts them (This is a whole plot/arc!). However, he is killed by Silva, who covers the crime up with Hudson and Pratt's complacency (both now realising how deep they're in things now). This is also the point that solidifies to Joseph (which "God"/Phillip confirms) that the Collapse's chances of occurring now is over, and they're all stuck with working for Silva.

The time period that the AU is set in is also around the time Phillip was the (New) God of the Far Cry universe. Which explains why Phillip would allow these events to occur, since he's been trying to stop these Collapses from occurring. Phillip's also really interested in seeing where this thing goes, and dislikes Joseph enough to not stop it.

This is the third appearance of Phillip in an AU (the first was Far Cry The Reverend's Rule, the second in Far Cry The Angel of Death and lastly the fourth will be in Far Cry An Assassin's Absolution or FCA3 for short).

At some point much later in the AU, Mercy (Silva and Faith's daughter) is conceived and later born.

The AU can be summarised as "Violent cult is blackmailed by a mafia family to help fight against worse cults and gangs trying to undermine the American branch of said mafia family." Also includes (but not limited to) family fluff, drama, murder, a God laughing his ass off, romance, dismemberment, revenge, angst, slice of life, hurt/comfort from unlikeliest of people, unhealthy therapeutic methods, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grey morality, crisis of faith, crisis of romantic feelings, light humour, dark humour, discussions of ethnic identity, gender identity and sexual orientation, bonding through shared trauma (both the health and unhealthy ways) and much more!

#far cry 5 #far cry 5 au #canon divergence #oc: silva omar #inquisitor!silva #joseph seed #john seed #jacob seed #faith seed #the seed family #oc: phillip #hope county sheriff's department #hope county #joey hudson #staci pratt #oc: gavin turquoise #oc: kamski neon #oc: mercy seed #literally the most normal au i've ever made #at least this time there's only one god just chilling and watching the chaos unfold #though the “normal” aspects of this far cry 5 au does make it a bit strange compared to so many others #at least this time there's no man made out wasps or a deathwalker or artificial magic you know?

[thebiggerbear]

Only Ever Holding Onto You Chapter 1

A/N: Hey all! I just want to let you know up front that this chapter is HUGE. When writing, I go more by what I feel needs to be in the chapter for setups and flow than I do the length. It's something I'm still working on as a writer so I apologize. The following chapters should not be nearly as long.

I began writing this back in July and at that time, I hadn't watched the rest of the 3rd season of Big Sky so I did a lot of guesswork based on gifs, clips, and posts I had seen on here. So that's why some things might not line up to the show, sorry about that. Also, I completely made up the name of the pharmaceutical company.

This story actually was the gateway to Ghosts so there might be some similar threads you might notice. ;) I hope you like it!

And a huge thank you to my beta Em! You rock, girl!

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for this story. Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated. 😊

You can also read on AO3

Warnings: mentions of animal cruelty, mentions of animal injuries seen by Reader, mentions of kidnapping of minor

Word Count: 13,543

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

Series Masterlist

<-->

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

You rolled your eyes and made a left onto Washington. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what everyone who breaks into a chem lab says.”

“It’s true,” the man currently sitting handcuffed in your backseat insisted. “It’s the corporation that’s doing something wrong. They’re benefitting from those animals’ pain.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to enter the premises illegally,” you pointed out.

“What they’re doing is illegal,” he scoffed.

You couldn’t exactly argue with that one. When the call came in for a 10-62 and it was advised that the prowler was armed and dangerous, you had immediately rushed to the scene, beaten there by two officers from Helena PD and one deputy from your department. The perp had already been secured and in handcuffs, proclaiming loudly over and over that he was innocent as were the animals he had been trying to set free. Deputy Davis informed you that the only weapon that had been found on the man was a pair of bolt cutters, which had barely made a dent in the cages’ padlocks, never mind were they ever a real threat to anyone on the premises.

After contacting the higher-ups of her employer, an onsite supervisor insisted the company wanted to press any and all charges, maintaining that the animals in their possession had been obtained legally and the accusations against them were baseless. One glance past the woman’s shoulder at the cages of rabbits and cats being wheeled into another area showed that perhaps the man’s claims weren’t as baseless as she said they were. You had to keep yourself from hauling her down to the station on some trumped up charge once you noticed one cat in particular that had half of its fur missing and its side was littered with obvious injection sites. One rabbit even had sutures where an eye should be. 

Unfortunately, you had a job to do and the law needed to be upheld. You insisted on taking the perp, one Martin Webb, into the station yourself. Since Davis had arrived on scene first, Helena PD couldn’t say a peep. That was one thing that hadn’t changed with your transfer here: the good ol’ jurisdiction issue between departments. Although, up in these parts, the Lewis and Clark County Sheriff’s Department and Helena PD did play nicer together than most other places you’d been. As Webb continued to ramble on in the back of your car, you were thankful for that little fact.

When he mentioned for the fifth time that he was doing the right thing, your phone began to ring. One quick glance at the screen showed that it was Deputy Poppernak. Without saying a word, you picked up the call. “What’s shaking, Pepper Snaps?” 

You smirked when you heard the slight huff he let out when you called him the cute little nickname you had come up for him. He knew you did it to tease him good-naturedly but it still exasperated him at times. Truth be told, you had a fondness for the guy even though he did prove to be a bit of a suck-up when you first stepped into the station about six months back. Still he had always been welcoming towards you, took your quirks in stride, and he was a decent cop. That put him under the good list in your book.

“Hey, Y/N. The boss asked for me to give you a call and see if you were on your way back to the station.”

Your eyes practically rolled out of your head. Apparently, the sheriff had forgotten how phones worked along with the knowledge that you were more than capable of doing your job. If Poppernak got exasperated with you at times, your patience could be worn thin by one Beau Arlen on a semi-often basis, and that hadn’t changed with both of you relocating to Big Sky Country.

“Pops, correct me if I’m wrong, but when I radioed in to Madge that I was transporting a suspect back to the station, did I say it in Portuguese? French maybe? Japanese? Or in Gaelic perhaps?” You quipped.

“Uh, no. No, of course not,” Poppernak let out in a nervous chuckle. “It’s just, uh…sorry, one second.” You could hear his muffled voice speaking to someone; it was obvious he had covered the mouthpiece with his hand. You nearly rolled your eyes again, knowing exactly who he was speaking to, and instead chose to glance in your rearview to check on the man in the back. He had still been talking when you picked up the call but he must have gotten the hint when the deputy’s voice filled the car. Now, he sat quietly, staring straight ahead. 

“Okay, sorry about that. Madge was asking me—”

You’d had enough, especially when you heard him using a quieter tone than before. “Cut the crap, I know very well who was asking you something. What does he want and why is he not calling me to ask me himself?”

He laughed nervously again. “Uh, well, he was just—I mean I was just wondering, do you mind stopping by The 1889 and grabbing the usual order on your way in?”

Your jaw tensed. You had a sneaking suspicion of the reason why your boss wasn’t calling you directly and instead was asking his employee to do his dirty work, and it infuriated you.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Poppernak added meekly.

You forced yourself to remember that he wasn’t the one who your ire should be aimed at. You’d get to that soon enough after you booked your suspect down at the station. You made another quick turn to head in the direction of the coffee shop. “Call the order in. I’ll be there in fifteen to pick it up and they better run it out to me or no dice. In case anyone at that station is too thick-headed to remember, I’m currently transporting a suspect.”

You heard a relieved breath come down the line. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the—” 

You ended the call before the deputy could finish speaking. Pops knew you weren’t mad at him and knowing him, he’d get right on placing the order at the coffee house you all frequented so the order would be ready in the timeframe you’d given him. 

“Amazing. Animals are being cruelly treated in your own backyard and all you cops can worry about is your coffee order. ‘To protect and serve’...yeah right.”

You shot Webb a glare in your rearview mirror. “You have the right to remain silent, you know. Wouldn’t hurt to exercise it every now and then. Like right now.”

“How can I be silent? Do you have any idea what they’re doing to those animals? Do you have any idea how much pain they’re in? God, you people are heartless!”

“Uh huh.” You brought the car to a stop at a traffic light and took a deep breath. Losing your temper on Webb or Pops or anyone at the station would not help anything, but damn did Beau get on your nerves sometimes with his desire to placate and diffuse things. Most of the time, it was something you heavily respected about him; it was a great quality for a leader to have. At the same time, some people needed to be stood up to, put in their place, and knocked down a few pegs — and that is where you and Beau never saw eye-to-eye. It drove you crazy but you told yourself you would play the long game on this one. Beau knew how you felt. You two had argued about it enough times when it was just you two — but he refused to budge an inch. He believed time would resolve things. Six months was plenty of time in your mind but apparently, he didn’t share that sentiment. So, you did as you always had: you had his back and you followed his lead. It didn’t mean you had to like it sometimes, though. Especially not when—no, you would put it out of your mind for now.

“I’m serious, you saw the animals yourself. Do you really think they’re well cared for like they said? If you only knew the half of it!”

Webb’s rantings broke you out of your reverie. You thought over what he said, remembered the cat with the missing fur, the rabbit with the missing eye, and bit your lip in contemplation. When the light turned green, your mind was made up. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Webb. And that job doesn’t include looking into the history of this company or what they do with their animals when it comes to testing.”

The man scoffed and you knew your words had been chosen well. “Of course not. Why would you care? I suppose you don’t care that the animals are kept in cages night and day. Not only do they pump chemicals into them consistently but they cause them pain purposely to see if their products work. I guess you also don’t care that this is a common practice for this company, or that they purposely pick up strays from surrounding neighborhoods and have even broken into people’s properties to steal their pets when the shelters and pet stores start to get suspicious! And you’re charging me with breaking and entering? What about them? And I bet you don’t care that they purposely starve these animals for certain experiments and that’s not even…”

You made your way to The 1889, keeping your gaze ahead of you as you maneuvered down the streets, all the while quietly listening and at certain points, trying to remember why you’d chosen to become a cop when it seemed like the odds always remained against you and innocents, humans and animals alike, continued to get hurt by every semblance of heartless assholes on a daily basis.

<-->

Deputy Davis, who had beaten you back to the station and waited for you to arrive, led Webb into the station as you followed behind with a tray of coffees and a paper bag full of food. 

Pops immediately hurried over to meet you, a huge grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. You really are the best.”

You handed him both the tray and bag, giving him a nod. 

Webb watched the exchange carefully before yelling out, “Yeah, so glad you can sit and enjoy your coffee and donuts while innocent animals are suffering!” The busy hum in the station dimmed slightly as everyone turned to look, but then it resumed when they saw the man responsible for the noisy interruption was in handcuffs.

“I’ll book him,” the deputy next to you insisted.

“Thanks, Davis.” You smiled slightly at the younger man. “I’ll get on the paperwork.”

“Let’s go.” Davis pushed Webb in front of him who kept yelling as he was being moved away.

 You and Pops watched them disappear around the corner and then turned back to one another. “So, where is he?”

Pops’ amiable smile dropped completely and he quickly glanced in the direction of the sheriff’s office. Bingo. “Uh, I think he’s interrogating a suspect right now…”

“Right.” You then moved past him and proceeded right to the location that Pops unintentionally gave away before outright lying to you. The door was shut but that didn’t deter you. Without knocking, you opened the door and barged right in.

Sure enough, there was Beau, sitting in his chair with the infamous Jenny Hoyt perched on the desk to his left, barely a foot of space between them. Of course. Was there ever a moment in the day the undersheriff wasn’t trying to get into the sheriff’s pants? 

The blonde glared at your intrusion and you folded your arms across your chest. You offered a meaningful look to Beau, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Did you always storm into your boss’ office without knocking like this back in Houston or is it only something you do here?” Hoyt snapped.

“Hoyt,” Beau warned.

Ignoring her sniping and ignoring her presence altogether — you leveled your eyes on Beau alone. “We need to talk.”

Beau glanced between you and his undersheriff, looking uncertain, before he gave a simple nod. “Give us the room for a minute,” he directed to the woman next to him. The corner of your lips lifted in the beginning of a smirk; wise choice on his part.

Hoyt transferred her glare to him but got to her feet all the same. She nearly stomped her way out the door, scowling at you the entire time. You stared her down, all too happy to close the door once she vacated the threshold. You seriously could not wait for that woman to take some vacation time; it’d be like your own vacation kicking in at the same time.

You turned around to find Beau watching you, exhaustion showing in the lines of his face a little more prominently than they had a moment ago. “Y/N, I—”

Holding up a hand, you interrupted him before he could plead with you for peace or make excuses like he had so many times before. “Aside from me thinking that it’s downright pathetic that you can’t even make a simple phone call to ask me to pick you up one of your favorite sandwiches because she’s within hearing distance, I have a bigger issue to discuss.”

Beau sat back in his chair, considering you for a moment. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You moved closer and took a seat. “The man I just brought in, Martin Webb, the one who’s being booked on a B&E charge from Avuna Pharmaceuticals? Turns out he was not armed like had been initially reported to emergency dispatch. He had a pair of bolt cutters on him that didn’t even work and he was not posing a threat to anybody. But the Avuna reps are insisting he was.”

“Who was first on scene?”

“Davis.”

“Any footage or eyewitness accounts that prove this guy threatened anyone before Davis got there?”

“Eyewitness accounts from paid employees and when we asked for footage after noticing cameras placed all around the lab, we were told that their legal counsel advised that unless we had a warrant, we were wasting our time and suggested we should be focusing on the arrest of the assailant in our custody.”

Beau snorted. “Not suspicious at all and damn ballsy.”

You couldn’t help but shrug. “Big corporation, big money. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect it all.”

He nodded in agreement. “Good point. Alright, let’s let the DA take it from here. For now, just book him and we’ll let the courts battle it out on what charges actually stick.”

You tilted your head at him expectantly. 

“And,” he sighed. “I take it you already knew I’d say that and that’s not why you wanted to discuss it.”

“You know me so well,” you teased, giving him a smirk and sitting on the desk next to him on his right, keeping a polite distance between you. “Something doesn’t smell right with this case. If their response to our request to view their footage wasn’t enough of a red flag, then the fact that they’re looking to throw the book at this guy is. I ran him through the system. His record is relatively clean; he’s an activist, not an ecological terrorist.” You bit your lip. “I saw the animals while they were transporting them,” you said in a quieter tone. “I saw some things that... I think this guy, while a little misguided, is actually on the right track. Something’s off with this whole thing.”

Beau leaned over to place a hand over yours. “Darlin’, I know where you’re going with this and while it pains me to say it, I have to. It’s not our job. You said it yourself: big corporation, big money. This is for the courts. We can’t get involved.” You dropped your gaze to the floor and let out a disappointed breath. You knew as much, had said as much to Webb on the ride over, but it felt wrong for that to be the actual reality. 

You felt Beau brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in tender strokes. It was his way of reassuring you and apologizing at the same time. You couldn’t help but give him a thin-lipped smile. You knew he would do something if he could, but he was right. Unless there was evidence to Webb’s claims of the company illegally obtaining those animals, this was not for you or for the department to get involved in. On the off-chance there was proof, that evidence would need to be transferred to the right agency who handled such cases. Your hands were tied and there was nothing you could do from your position, that fact wouldn’t help you sleep better at night or help you forget what you had seen.

“That being said, I will talk to the DA and see what he can do about the charges. I can’t promise anything but I’ll try,” Beau finished, after seeing your reaction.

You turned your hand over, grabbing onto his, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He returned your smile and squeezed your hand before gently letting go. “And thank you for picking up the order earlier. And for not letting Hoyt bait you into an argument.”

Rolling your eyes and getting to your feet, you made your way to the bulletin board on the far wall to study its contents. “Sometimes I wonder why you even asked me to come here.”

You heard a heavy sigh behind you but you didn’t turn around to look. “You know why I asked you to join me here, Y/N. I need someone who has my back.”

“You have plenty of people here who have your back.” You pulled the paper you were looking for off the board and folded it up. “Especially her. She’d have your back, front, and center if she had anything to say about it.” Slipping the paper into the back pocket of your jeans, you glanced back at Beau to find him glaring in your direction. “Am I wrong?” You challenged.

“I really wish you two would try to get along.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “I’m not the one who throws a temper tantrum every time I walk into a room. That would be the woman whose insufferable ass has been glued to yours for the past six months.”

Beau shook his head. “Why do I even try?”

“Why do you?” You agreed. “And why do you defend her at every given turn when you know she’s the one that has a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder?”

“I told you, she’s been through a lot. With her mom and everything…” Beau waved a hand to indicate there might be more to it than you knew. You didn’t think there was; you had heard about it from practically everyone around here, but you also knew Beau was a good man with a big heart. So while you didn’t excuse away the blatant hostility Hoyt had shown you from the moment you arrived, you knew that your best friend tried to be understanding and his patience was longer than the length of the building you were currently in.

“Right,” you muttered. When you first showed up here, Beau told you everything that went down in the amount of time it took you to be able to secure your transfer. You knew all about Jenny Hoyt, her mom, Cassie Dewell, their interesting history, Denise, Sunny, Buck, and everything that happened with Emily and Carla. As a matter of fact, as soon as Beau called you in a panic over Emily’s being taken, you had told your boss down in Houston, Burke Ellis, that you were done waiting for him to stop dragging his feet and you were out on the first red-eye you could book a seat on. As a matter of fact, that was how you and Cassie first met, and how you first came across Hoyt. 

Beau had rushed over to you the minute he had spied you hurrying into the station, asking for Sheriff Beau Arlen and flustering Madge who had no idea who you were but that the man you said you were here to see was having a personal crisis and wasn’t up for seeing any visitors. You darted past her desk, which had further exasperated her, and you practically jumped into Beau’s open arms. You both hugged each other tightly and he nearly lifted you off the ground.

“Thank you,” he rasped out into your ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” You ran your fingers soothingly through the hair at the back of his neck. “Where do you need me?”

He had pulled back and it was then that you could see the toll this was taking on him; the fear, worry, and exhaustion were clearly pronounced on his handsome face. “Honestly?” He croaked out. He then grabbed your hand and quickly led you to an office in the back, both of you moving past many shocked onlookers, a 5’6” blonde woman among them who you would later come to know as the biggest pain in your ass in your career thus far. 

You saw the gold lettering on the door stating this was Beau’s office and he slipped you inside before shutting the door and closing the blinds. He pulled you back into his arms, burying his face into your neck. He surprised you a moment later by picking you up and placing you on the corner of his desk, never once moving away from you. You could feel the wetness against your skin and you saw his shoulders shake as he let out a pitiful sob. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I just… My baby girl has been taken by this murderous son of a bitch and I—” He couldn’t even get the rest out and you shushed him, holding him together as best you could while he fell apart, scared out of his mind at what could happen to his daughter. Emily was like a niece to you; you couldn’t even imagine how terrified she must be, let alone how her father must feel. You knew one thing, though: you and Beau would find her and bring her home. In order to do that, however, you needed to keep Beau from breaking completely and re-calibrate his focus.

You had started to press kisses to the side of his head, promising that you both would do everything to get Emily back safe and sound. “I’m here now,” you murmured into his ear. “We made one hell of a team once, this will be no different. We’ll get her back, Beau.” He sniffled and moved back to look at you, nodding. You gave him a tender smile and wiped underneath his eyes before running your hand through his wayward hair (it had grown slightly since the last time you saw him) and stroking his bearded cheek affectionately. “I’ve got you. Always.”

He stared into your eyes for so long as you comforted him that you didn’t notice that he was moving closer until his nose nearly bumped into yours. You didn’t realize that your breathing had picked up or that your heartbeat had accelerated until your lips parted to let out a small puff of air. His green gaze dropped down to your mouth at the action and then you noticed him wet his lips with his tongue. Your own tongue automatically mirrored his and you swore you felt your heart stop when you saw him take it as a green light and start to lean in, closing his eyes. Alarm bells went off in your mind: this was your best friend who was vulnerable due to the situation at hand, seeking comfort from someone familiar to him that he knew he could fully trust; there was an active investigation going on into his daughter’s abduction and you knew you were on a timeclock; every second counted and there was no time to waste. Yet you were frozen, unable to react and unwilling to stop him from taking the solace he needed in you. 

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined your friendship with Beau possibly crossing the line into something more at one point. While he was married, you had never entertained it, but afterwards, there had been that one night… Nothing had ended up happening between you, of course, but it had definitely been a close call. You had attributed it to too much liquor and the need for consolation during a rough time in his life, being more than relieved when he didn’t appear to remember the next morning. So your friendship continued unmarred by any tension or awkwardness. Now…how could you not give him what he clearly needed from you at one of the worst times in his life? 

You had just shut your eyes, making your decision and waiting for impact, when a knock sounded on his door and then it opened, a surprised gasp emitting from the doorway. You both turned to look, seeing a stunned woman standing there who you hadn’t passed by before. Beau let out a stuttered breath but pulled away from you all the same. It left a funny feeling inside your chest, but you told yourself he had made the right decision which prompted sweet relief to flood through your own veins. Nothing should occur between you and Beau right now, not when everything with Emily was going on and emotions were running high. And what if you had let him take comfort in you and it ultimately ruined your friendship? Not to mention he was now your boss. How complicated would that be? Your best friend meant more to you than one moment of throwing the rule book completely out the window. 

The woman worriedly glanced behind her and seemed to relax when she didn’t see who or what she was looking for. She then gave Beau a small smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Beau cleared his throat and leaned against the desk, next to you, facing the door. You discreetly ran a hand across his back in reassurance. “It’s fine. What is it, Cass?”

Your eyes widened when you heard the nickname and quickly made the connection. This was Cassie Dewell, the local private investigator Beau had told you about. He had mentioned that they had become close friends since he took the job.

“I just came to tell you that I think I might be able to help with Sunny.”

Beau immediately got to his feet. “You think she’ll tell us where Buck’s taken Emily?”

Cassie shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. She’s been married to the man for years. She may not have known he was a serial killer but she knows everything else there is to know about him. She has to have an idea of some spots he might have gone to that we haven’t come up with yet. And we do have the update about Walter as leverage.”

Running a tired hand down his face, Beau sighed. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.” He glanced your way and you gave him a nod. Then he started, as if he just remembered something. “Sorry. Cassie, I’d like you to meet Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Cassie Dewell.”

Your head snapped in her direction. “Oh right, you’re the PI from the local agency in town that Em’s been working at.”

Cassie gave you a wave and you studied her, expecting judgment of some kind, yet there was no malice or hostility staring back at you. You had expected such a reaction from her walking in on you and Beau, yet all you could see was curiosity... As well as worry and guilt shadowing her eyes for a moment at the mention of Emily. “Yeah, that would be me. Hey.”

“Y/N’s from Houston.” Beau gestured towards you. “We worked quite a few cases together back in the day.”

Her eyes seemed to light up with recognition which surprised you. “Y/N Y/L/N…I was wondering why that name sounded familiar. You’re one of his former partners, right?”

You quickly exchanged a glance with Beau. “Sort of,” you confirmed.

“She’s transferring here but I asked her to come to help with…Emily…” Beau looked pained as he said the name.

You immediately laid a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

He gave you a thin-lipped smile and you squeezed him in reassurance. 

“Nice to meet you.” Cassie’s voice pulled you both from the moment.

Your gaze snapped to Cassie’s. “Likewise. So, this Sunny…she’s the owner of the campground, right? Close to where the body of the first victim was found some years ago? And she’s the wife of the suspect?” Beau had told you a little about the case before Avery’s death and Emily’s abduction.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. I’m hoping she’ll feel up to talking. Beau, I wouldn't ask but…would you mind giving me a hand? It might help shake something loose if we both take a run at her. She’s more familiar with us, and Walter will give us more of a card to play.”

Beau thought it over for a moment. “Agreed. We’ve got to try anything and everything so let’s do it.” Cassie turned to leave when he called out to her, “I’ll be there in a second.”

She nodded and quietly closed the door behind her.

Beau let out a heavy breath and turned to you. “Y/N, I—”

You shot up, standing before him. “No need,” you spoke softly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed reassuringly when you saw his eyes tighten. “Let’s focus on saving your daughter.” You gave him a small smile and he nodded, pulling you into him to place his forehead up against yours. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, closing his eyes. When you felt him relax slightly against you after taking a deep breath, out of instinct, you did something you had never done before, not when you were this close together and it was just the two of you. You pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, right above his beard line, forcing his eyes to snap open, staring right into yours, and he focused intently on you. 

“Let’s go find her and bring her home,” you whispered, stepping back only when he nodded, and turned towards the door. 

“Do you want me to watch the interrogation or do you need me elsewhere?” You asked.

He came to a halt, thinking about it for a moment. “Interrogation.”

You nodded and opened the door, stepping through to see several pairs of eyes land on you. It might have been intimidating to someone else, but to you, it was just par for the course. Beau had warned you about the small town atmosphere compared to the big city one you were accustomed to, so you weren’t surprised in the least when people started talking in hushed tones to one another as you both walked past without a word to anyone. It appeared you and Beau were on the same page: Emily was priority and introductions to your new coworkers would have to wait. 

He led you to a closed door where Cassie stood, waiting. You glanced around to look for the room you would be led to in order to watch the interrogation but didn’t see it. 

“And who’s this?”

You turned to see the blonde woman from earlier, a forced smile on her face and her blue eyes assessing you.

Beau seemed caught off guard for a moment, his focus on getting to Cassie and then taking on Sunny, but he quickly introduced you. “Y/N Y/L/N, Jenny Hoyt.” You gave her a nod and she returned it. “Cassie and I are going to take a run at Sunny, see if maybe she has an idea of a location where Buck may have taken Emily and Denise.”

The blonde’s gaze softened as it landed on Beau. “Of course. If you want, Cassie and I can do it.” You noticed Cassie’s eyes tighten but she stayed quiet as the woman then leaned into Beau a bit, saying softly, “You’ve been through a lot in the last few hours.” You watched as she squeezed Beau’s arm in support. Ah, so this was the infamous Jenny Hoyt you had heard about. The same Hoyt that had given Beau a run for his money when he first took this job and then continued to be a wildcard in the field. The same one who Beau felt the ridiculous need to babysit. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you watched her gazing up at your friend as if he had hung the moon in the night sky but you schooled your features into polite professional interest by the time Beau glanced over at you. 

“I’m good. Actually, Y/N, I’d like you to join us.” Both Cassie and Hoyt turned gaping expressions on you. While this was certainly a twist, you knew Beau wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have his reasons. Sure enough, he elaborated, “I think a new face might provide the perfect shakeup that we need.” He gave you a meaningful look and like always, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

You gave the group a curt nod. “Sure. Can I see the file real fast so I know what I’m working with?” You held out a hand to Hoyt, assuming that she had Sunny’s file in her hand in expectation of the interrogation, waiting for her to pass it to you.

The blonde glared at you, a hint of suspicion in her eyes, before glancing back at the man. “Beau, maybe we should slow down and think about this for a second. We might only get one shot at this so maybe—”

“Hoyt, my daughter has been kidnapped by a serial killer. She fits his MO to a tee and we need to find her before…” He pressed his lips together tightly before blowing out a breath. “Look, Denise has been taken too, my ex-wife is a mess of tears, Avery is dead, and I’m barely holding it together. Just let me do what I have to do to save my little girl. So give Y/N the damn file.” He spoke the last part through gritted teeth, signifying the end of his patience, and that appeared to shock Hoyt and Cassie. You assumed that this was a new side of Beau that they hadn’t seen before but his daughter’s life was on the line. What did they expect? If he hadn’t said anything, you would have snatched the damn folder out of Hoyt’s hands yourself. Precious time was being wasted with the useless pissing match she seemed intent on engaging in. 

Cassie recovered first. “Jenny.” She gave the blonde an encouraging nod.

Hoyt’s features tightened and her eyes were pure ice as she finally placed the folder into your waiting hand.

“Thanks.” You immediately started scanning the contents. After a minute or so, you felt you had a general understanding of Sunny and her history from the file in addition to things Beau had mentioned to you already. You had more than enough to be able to pull off what he needed you to do. You shut the folder and gave Beau and Cassie a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Cassie opened the door and led the way inside, followed by Beau and then you. Hoyt stared you down as you passed her but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Right now, your priority was the young girl whom you had watched grow up, who you had sat through a blistering hot, cheesy middle school graduation for — all to watch her walk across the stage in a cap and gown. Her life was on the line and you’d make sure she returned to Beau safely no matter what.

You weren’t in there long. You did exactly as Beau had intended for you to do. You teed him and Cassie up very nicely to get what they needed to. Not much time had passed before Sunny admitted she most likely knew where Buck went, especially when Cassie swooped in with the information that her son, Walter, was still alive despite Buck’s attempt to kill him.

Once you left the room, Cassie was intent on finding Sunny’s other son, Cormac, since Beau and Hoyt were going to drive Sunny to the location she had revealed. You were about to offer to do whatever was needed from you when you heard a loud cry erupt to your left. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a woman with dark hair rushing towards you. You barely turned in time for impact when Carla threw herself at you.

You held her as she cried, thanked you for coming, asked you to help find her daughter, mentioned her recently murdered husband, and just overall sobbed. This woman had been through one hell of an ordeal in the last few days. You couldn’t even imagine how torn apart you’d be if this were you, not to mention Carla was one of the most level-headed and toughest women you had ever met in your life. She was definitely tougher than you, and that was saying something considering you had seen some shit in your time. Now, seeing her reduced to tears like this, begging you to help save her little girl, to do whatever you had to in order to bring her baby back home to her…it turned your stomach and only added to the urgency of finding Emily and getting to her before that sick son of a bitch could hurt her. You hoped to hell he hadn’t already. Your stomach turned further at the thought and you could feel an all-too familiar fire that you kept a tight lid on when working cases that involved children… 

You forced yourself to let go of the thought. This was about Emily and her parents, not about you. Ignoring your experience that nagged at you and insisted that, due to the circumstances and the time already passed, there was a likelihood of a bad ending here, you swallowed past the lump forming in your throat and refocused your energy into trying to calm Carla down so you could help find her daughter.

It took Beau peeling her off of you and promising that you both were going to look for Emily right then to calm her slightly. She held onto Beau and you grabbed her hand, ignoring your training yelling at you in your head, and swore you would do everything you could to help bring her daughter back to her. 

“Y/N, Beau, please, you have to save her,” she begged. “Save our daughter!” She threw at Beau before Madge was able to lead her away. Watching her go, your jaw tensed as that fire from earlier threatened to return. You had the desire to find Buck and take the sick bastard down yourself.

Beau turned to you, his green eyes even more haunted than when you had first seen him, and that dulled the fire inside. No matter the anger you felt, it was nothing compared to what he must be feeling. You could only imagine the rage and hopelessness mixed with desperation that was swirling inside of him right now, and you knew exactly what he was thinking because you were thinking it, too. What if you couldn’t keep your promise to Carla? You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts. You wouldn’t think like that; those types of thoughts were useless. You needed to be at your best for him, for Carla, and more importantly, for Emily. Instead, you focused on the positives: you all had a lead right now, two in fact, and that was all that mattered.

You instinctively reached out and cupped his face with your hands, anchoring him as best you could. “Beau, listen to me,” you murmured. “You and Hoyt take Sunny to the spot she told you about. I’ll go with Cassie to find Cormac. Alright?”

He nodded, staring at you, and the movement forced a single tear to shake loose. You wiped it away discreetly before it could be seen and hugged him to you. “Go. Keep your phone on and if you need me, you call me. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find her,” you whispered into his ear. 

You heard a sniffle in your ear. “Right, we’ll find her.” 

“And we’ll take down this sick son of a bitch,” you promised, pulling back to look him meaningfully in the eye. Come hell or high water, you had his back. 

Nodding again, he gave you a smile that was more of a grimace and placed a hand against your cheek. “Yeah, we will.” You reached up to give his wrist a squeeze.

“Beau.”

Both of you turned to see Hoyt and Cassie watching you curiously along with Madge and a deputy who you would come to find out to be Poppernak.

“We should go,” Hoyt insisted. 

Beau glanced back over at you, quietly clearing his throat and removing his hand. “Yeah.” His gaze snapped over to the other man, as if he had suddenly just had a thought. “Poppernak, get Y/N here a vest before she leaves. Get one for Cassie, too.”

“You got it, boss.” 

Poppernak walked away and Beau swung his head back to you. “You call me the second you get anything from Cormac.” At your nod, he laid a hand on your shoulder and lowered his head slightly to look you right in the eye. “Be careful.”

You couldn’t help but smile and say to him the thing you’d said to him every time he told you this in the past: “Always am.” His features softened the slightest bit at the familiar exchange between you. “Now, let’s go find your daughter and bring her home.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out and gave a sharp nod, what you had always called his game face filling his expression. Squeezing your shoulder, he released you and walked away. You watched him go and sure enough, the blonde’s glare entered your vision when she looked back over her shoulder while walking with him out the door. It was the same suspicious glare you’d been getting from her in the last hour, the same one you couldn’t help but notice when Carla had first launched herself at you. You knew then that whatever her reasons, she was going to be a problem for you. 

“Ready to go?” Cassie asked kindly.

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go get Em back.”

“And Denise,” she added.

“Right. Her, too.”

The both of you grabbed the vests Poppernak held out to you on your way out. 

Cormac had actually proven useful and he had thankfully led you to the correct location Emily was being held in. Beau had been practically inconsolable when he called you before that, thinking Emily had been killed in an explosion. Even though you had seen him at the worst times in his life, and had just seen him breaking down in front of you back at the station, you had never heard the pain that saturated his voice right then. You struggled not to break down in tears yourself. Laughter, football games in the Arlen yard, ice cream runs after particularly tough days at school, you teaching her how to make paella and her mom’s smile when Em proudly insisted she made it all on her own later at dinner that night, rides on the ferris wheel at the fair because her dad was too scared to take her but wouldn’t admit it — the memories of time spent with your favorite teenager assaulted you in rapid succession. You forced yourself to focus on Beau, to keep him from falling to pieces right then and there. You knew that’s why he had immediately called you, before he had to tell Carla. 

You were beyond grateful when a minute or two later someone interrupted your conversation to inform Beau that there was no evidence that Emily was in the explosion. The body they’d found appeared to be male. No Denise and no Emily. You had nearly fallen to your knees in relief right then, and you could only imagine how Beau must have felt. 

And soon enough, you, Cassie, and Cormac located both girls, very much alive, and freed them. Emily had held onto you, her young face streaked with dirt and tears, clearly traumatized from all that had taken place over the last week. It broke your heart to hear her terrified whimpers. When she first saw you, she had cried out your name and once you had her in your arms, she refused to let go of you, which was just fine by you. You were grateful she was alive and appeared to be unharmed, but you secretly wished you could have two minutes alone with Buck, that sick bastard who had done this to her. Hell, you wouldn’t have needed your gun at all. 

Beau and Hoyt showed up just as you were all stepping out into the sun and a huge lump formed in your throat when Emily finally let go of you to run to her dad. Seeing them embracing each other forced tears to run down your cheeks which you quickly wiped away. 

You were grateful to Cassie for that day. Her hunch about Cormac and her personal connection to him had helped get Emily back home safely. Not only had the two of you worked well together in that short span of time, but ever since then, you could see that she was good to Beau, and to Emily. Both Arlens had massive respect for her and you could see why Beau had spoken so highly of her before you came to Helena, and why he insisted on having her back professionally despite her being a private investigator. It was common knowledge that law enforcement didn’t always like having PI’s poking around cases, but Cassie had been given full access and assistance. You now saw why and you were thankful that Beau had such a good friend up here, someone who truly had his interests at heart as well as his daughter’s. And now you were also lucky enough to be able to call her your friend. There were many movie nights at Beau’s that were filled with light-hearted teasing and plenty of laughter since you’d settled into life in Montana.

As for Hoyt…well, things hadn’t really changed on that front. She certainly wasn’t a fan of yours, no two ways about it. 

You had gotten to know Poppernak a bit after you arrived but he was still in suck-up mode, so you decided to turn that to your advantage. It really didn’t take much to get it out of him; Hoyt had a thing for Beau, nothing you already hadn’t caught onto. Hell, she was practically all over him at his movie nights as well as anytime there was a meetup arranged at the local bar; if she wasn’t present for one reason or another, she was calling him constantly, either saying she needed a friend to talk to or it was under the guise of discussing ongoing cases. Beau never got a day off and there wasn’t one day he spent with Emily that didn’t get interrupted by a phone call from Hoyt. There had even been times he’d had to call you and ask you to take Em to a movie or keep her entertained because Carla was out and he had to go help the blonde on what should have been a case that a rookie fresh out of the academy could have handled. The kicker was that this was after what Em had been through, Hoyt knowing full well that Beau needed some time with his daughter after that ordeal. Not even you interrupted them, though both father and daughter had invited you to join them quite a few times.

At one point, you remembered the other thing Poppernak informed you about: rumors were circulating around the department that Beau and Hoyt were involved and had been secretly seeing one another. You knew Beau would have told you if he was seeing anyone, but it was no secret that Hoyt had appointed you as her archnemesis and you didn’t care for her at all. What if the rumors were right and Beau was too embarrassed to tell you? Or what if he thought it might make a bad situation worse? What if he wanted to find what he considered to be the right time to tell you? And if he was indeed seeing her, it would explain the incessant calls, the moon eyes, the distaste she had for you — all of it. The doubt continued to gnaw away at you and you didn’t sleep so well the first few nights after the talk with Poppernak. 

Finally, one day you asked Beau point-blank if anything was going on between him and Hoyt. Once he closed his gaping mouth and put his eyes back into his head, he assured you they were just friends and he was her boss. She had been through some ordeals herself and he was just trying to be there for her, to give her support when she needed it. Nothing more. You knew it was complete and utter bullshit or Beau wouldn’t have been so suddenly interested in the case file on his desk. A case file you knew had been sitting there for the past two days.

There was no way that Beau was ignorant of Hoyt's attraction to him. The woman practically had a flashing neon sign on her forehead every time she looked at him, not to mention she had pulled out all the stops to let him know she was very much interested. Beau was an affectionate person by nature so little touches here and there between you were par for the course with him if you were his best friend, as long as they were welcomed and didn’t cross any lines or make you feel uncomfortable. There wasn’t a single opportunity Hoyt didn’t take to get her hands on Beau or to get those little touches out of him. Of course he knew; he had to. All of this was so blatant, everyone else around them knew, too, hence the rumors swirling around the department. Even Carla knew, as she’d mentioned to you one afternoon, and if you thought you didn’t care for Hoyt, then the former Mrs. Arlen downright despised the woman. People who Beau and Hoyt didn’t know knew, as evidenced by a witness at a crime scene asking to speak to the sheriff’s girlfriend again. Yet, if he was willfully ignoring her consistently throwing herself at him, then there was nothing more you could say. To his credit, you had never seen him return any flirtation or interest, no matter how hard Hoyt was putting herself out there, before or after your conversation with him. 

There were a couple of times you discreetly noticed the hurt in Hoyt’s face when Beau chose to accompany you on a case, if he and Cassie were laughing together, or if he was extra tender with Carla when she would drop by the station to talk about Emily. It quickly became clear that this was more than a crush or some simple attraction; the blonde had serious feelings for your best friend. Knowing Beau the way you did and everything he’d been through the past few years, it shouldn’t surprise you if he was purposely putting blinders on when it came to this topic. Beau had dated some since his divorce, but he wasn’t ready to get serious with anyone. At least that’s what he’d told you time and time again, back in Houston and now here. It had taken him some time to get over his ex-wife and now Emily and his job were his top priorities. While deep down you might have a very tiny trace amount of sympathy for the blonde, Beau was the one who mattered to you in this equation. If Hoyt wanted to keep chasing after her emotionally unavailable boss, then that decision was on her. It wasn’t like Cassie hadn’t warned her, something the PI had mentioned to you one night after a few drinks while you both sat at a table, watching Hoyt pulling Beau onto the dance floor despite his clear reluctance. So if your best friend lived more comfortably in the land of Hoyt-is-just-being-extra-friendly-because-she-appreciates-my-friendship, then who were you to burst that bubble? 

It did bother you tremendously though to see Beau not putting up any kind of boundaries whatsoever with Hoyt even though they were sorely needed. So, in your own subtle way, from time to time, you tried to suggest he put one up… Maybe two. He would humor you and hear you out, but then he’d either pick up the phone the next time she called him on a day off or he’d refuse, saying she was in a fragile state right now and he couldn’t afford to put distance there when she needed his support. After a few instances of this craziness and Hoyt’s attitude with you grew, you stopped being subtle which resulted in arguments that turned into yelling matches, tense silences on the rare ride-along, slammed doors (usually at your place since a slammed door at Beau’s would most likely have knocked that thing over; Pedro’s door was a good replacement though—that thing may be old but it was strong like a tank), refusals to look at one another, crossed arms, and sometimes radio silence for a few days if the disagreement had reached a bad enough point. You were always professional when on the clock and you always resolved things eventually, but this was one sticking point neither of you budged from. You knew Beau was a good man and had a heart of gold, something you loved and respected about him, but he could sure be infuriatingly stubborn at times.    

And while you could admit Hoyt was a decent, hardworking cop, she was also a decent-sized, hardworking pain in your ass. You knew she’d be a problem for you and boy had she been. Her whole thing with the sheriff aside, it was no surprise that the source of her hostility towards you was the man himself, namely your friendship with him. You both were close and even though nothing had ever happened between you, it became clear that the blonde detested any familiarity or affection shown by either of you to each other. You thought it was ridiculous and you refused to change your relationship or how you did things just because she was eager for your friend to look at her the way she had been looking at him. In fact, whenever you were around, she turned her obvious coyness and see-through flirting attempts up a notch. Presently, as of a few weeks ago, Hoyt had taken to physically marking her territory, or what she considered to be hers, like her sitting on Beau’s desk—right next to him. She’d slide in beside him in your usual booth at The Boot Heel or she’d take the chair next to him during movie nights which would force you and Cassie to sprawl on the deck with a blanket, struggling to get comfortable on the hard wooden planks underneath. You fully expected one of these days to walk in on her jumping Beau right there in his office chair, something you hoped to hell you never did because you would never get that sickening image out of your head.

Sure, you had talked with Beau plenty of times about her open hostility. He had begged you to try to make peace which always made you laugh because you were not the intentional catalyst of all of the contention in this situation. 

“I have to make peace. Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of your beer that Beau had offered to you when you arrived at his place a couple of months back.

Beau threw his head back against his chair in disbelief. “I’m just asking you to maybe extend an olive branch. This thing between you two is killing me... And everyone else in the department.”

“Maybe you should tell your undersheriff to, I don’t know, act like an undersheriff?” You ignored Beau’s loud groan and continued. “Isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Run the department while you’re out? My God, Beau, she can’t even go to the bathroom without your permission. You know that, right?”

“Y/N…”

“You and Em were supposed to go fishing last weekend with Cassie and Kai. I was going to take Carla out for the day to catch up and keep her mind off things while Em was gone. Remember that?”

You ignored Beau rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted.

“And what happened?”

“Y/N, a case dropped. Alright? It happens. When a dead body pops up, I need to know about it.”

“Know about it, yes, not work it.” He turned to meet your unflinching gaze. “No more bullshit, Beau. You didn’t make it to Sheriff by being stupid. You’ve worked in a bigger department before, dealt with way more crime, and overseen a bigger force. All on your own. If this were anyone else, you’d have told them to do their goddamn job by now, or you’d get someone else to fill the spot. You’re making excuses for her and you’re holding her hand like she’s a damn 5 year old.”

Beau dug his teeth into his bottom lip, staring at you in thought. “I told you, she’s been through a lot these past two years.”

“And you haven’t? Cassie hasn’t? Your daughter and her mom? Really?”

He let out a deep breath and sipped from his bottle. “We all have. That’s why when one of us needs a hand, we give it without question. When one of us falls, no matter how often or how long it takes, we help them get back up, every single time.” 

You swallowed the argument on the tip of your tongue and sat back in your chair, staring down at your bottle and playing with the edge of the label. “Okay, Dr. Phil.”

A laugh erupted from the man and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shaking his head. “I’m just saying we all help each other as best we can. If that means she needs help on a few cases, I’ve got her back.”

“I think you and Hoyt have very different ideas of what the word few means.”

“Y/N, if it was you, if it was Cass, I’d do the same thing. You know that. Look, she was there for me when Em was taken.” You did your best to hide your flinch but it must not have been well enough because his hand suddenly covered both of yours. “You all were,” he clarified. “I’m just trying to return the favor.”

“Sounds like you two are a lot closer than either of you let on,” you mentioned quietly.

When he didn’t respond to that, you snuck a glance up at him. His eyes were glued to you but after a minute, he retracted his hand and dropped his gaze to the deck. “We’re friends.”

You felt a weird sensation in your chest, like something fell into the pit of your stomach with those two words. Beau was a very direct person. He looked you in the eye, he shook your hand, and he didn’t bullshit. That meant if he wasn’t looking at you, if he was feeding you this same line of bullshit, you knew that wasn’t the entire truth. You weren’t sure if it hurt because your best friend was lying to you yet again, possibly still not trusting you with the truth, or if it was due to what he’d said. Either way, you refused to look at it too closely, not wanting this feeling to consume you as it seemed intent on doing. It was easier to put distance there in your mind, to tell yourself that Beau Arlen was a grown man and he could make his own decisions. You just wished he’d get involved with someone better suited for him, like Cassie. Granted, Cassie was with Cormac and they seemed happy, but why couldn’t Beau find his own version of Cassie? Someone who wouldn’t interrupt his time with his daughter, who wouldn’t selfishly absorb all of his time off, who didn’t physically embody the definition of clingy, and who wouldn’t treat his best friend like shit day in and day out?        

Honestly, you could care less about what Hoyt thought of you or how she acted towards you. For you, this was all a one-sided issue that Hoyt herself was making. You saw through her bullshit and you didn’t take her crap, and that infuriated the blonde. But what did she expect? After working a short stint in homicide in Manhattan and then with cartels, drug rings, and all sorts of other mess in Houston, very little had the power to intimidate you these days. Certainly not some little Miss Perfect whose work uniform appeared to consist of band t-shirts, leather jackets, and thick long heels as an undersheriff (how did that make for a successful running down of a suspect? seriously), who also batted her eyelashes at her boss and scowled at you from the moment Beau addressed your existence. You’d seen some things in your time and Helena’s runner-up for this Regina George wannabe was a mere speck on the windshield of shit on top of shit. You had no time for it. You just wished sometimes that Beau would stop trying to put it on your shoulders to do something about it, especially when he knew who the real culprit was.

And almost as if he had just heard your thoughts, he hit you with: “I’m asking you if you can be the one to reach out, Y/N, because I know I can rely on you. If I ask her… With Jenny, it’s complicated.”

“Not my problem,” you snapped out, taking another sip and refusing to look at him.

A very tense silence followed for the next few minutes as you both nursed your beers. You half-wondered if this night was going to end in yet another argument about a woman that wasn’t worth wasting a second over. This much disagreement was uncommon for both of you and you hated it. Oh, sure, you’d had your spats over the years but they were pretty minor and easily dissolved. And the silences… Usually, if a silence fell over the both of you, it was comfortable and felt overall peaceful. Not lately, which always seemed to follow a mention of Hoyt in some fashion.

You felt the all-too familiar burning in the corner of your eyes when you had the thought that had been getting louder and louder as more time passed: perhaps your transfer here had been a mistake. You didn’t regret being here to help when Emily was taken, but maybe once she was safely back home, you should have returned to yours. While Beau had made room for you in the department, there wasn’t really a place for you here; as much as you enjoyed spending time with your favorite family and new friends like Cassie, the person you had dropped everything and moved across state lines for was on the other side of a huge chasm that hadn’t been there before his move up north. It was growing every single day and you had no idea how to stop its progress or bridge the gap. You did your job well and deep down, you knew you would be more efficient elsewhere. You settled into the Montanan lifestyle as best you could but you had to admit to yourself that you knew it wasn’t a perfect fit. The more time passed, the more and more you believed your decision to be a mistake. The man you cared most about in this world had called you, told you he needed you, and you jumped without hesitation, not sparing a single thought or even looking to see where you’d land. Were you really that surprised that things were turning out this way? And every single time Hoyt threw hostility your way, it reinforced what you already knew to be true, the very message she had been sending you these past six months: you didn’t belong here. You turned your head to the side to discreetly wipe away a tear that had managed to escape and you took a breath to prevent any more, telling yourself to get it together.  

You waited for your eyes to clear, to push back down the swell of emotions inside you, and took one last sip of your beer. Just as you were about to announce it was time for you to head home and thank him for the drinks, Beau spoke up. “See that?”

You glanced up to where he was pointing and caught the tail end of a shooting star. A small smile formed on your face as you took in the night sky. You had never seen anything like that before. That was one thing you’d give Montana. It was hard to believe but the sky was so different compared to Texas and definitely not the same as New York. Everything up here was so clear and beautiful. Big Sky Country indeed. 

One night you, Beau, and Cassie had taken to trying to pick out as many constellations as you could find on Cassie’s smartphone. You were not completely successful but there were a lot of laughs as you all tried your best and then there had even been a very interesting conversation about UFOs and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. That had been a night for the books, especially when you and Cassie broke out into fits of drunken giggles when you grabbed Beau’s nose and made a weird mix of a boop and honking sound when you all discussed how you would greet aliens should they ever show up but were not hostile towards humanity. Beau had merely rolled his eyes in good humor and promptly cut you and Cassie off for the rest of the night, taking car keys from the both of you.

“A shooting star,” you whispered in amazement. “I think you’re supposed to make a wish on them, right? Did you make one?” You kept searching the sky, hoping to see another one so you could do just that. The other one was too fast and you desperately wanted to wish that things would get better and you could make your new home work like you had in Houston. The thought immediately saddened you when you remembered how a certain Texan and his family had helped in that department. You swallowed the lump back down and kept watching the sky, hoping like hell the universe would help you out just this once. Just one more. You weren’t wanting a meteor shower to suddenly happen of course, though that would be amazing to witness. You made a mental note to yourself to google it later to see when and where you could see one.

“Already did.”

Your brows furrowed at his response and you turned to find him watching you closely, almost as if he was waiting for you to realize what that wish had been. When you did, you scoffed and got to your feet, second shooting star and your wish be damned. “I’m not doing the olive branch thing so you can forget it. Not even some small rock from outer space is going to force me to do that one.” You stretched, feeling slightly more energetic than you had a moment ago, most likely due to the irritation you were currently experiencing. “Well, this has been fun but I should head home. Thanks for the beer.”

A hand pulled the nearly empty bottle out of yours and another dug into your jeans pocket, pulling your keys out before you could react. “Beau, what the— I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Listen, you know the deal. You need to sober up before you leave.”

“I’m not drunk! I’m not even tipsy!”

Beau shot you a look. “It’s late. There’s a possible ice warning for later tonight. You’re staying.”

“I have work tomorrow!”

“Good thing you have such an understanding boss then, huh?” He gave you a wink which made you roll your eyes and fold your arms across your chest.

“If you’re so worried about my blood alcohol level, maybe don’t serve alcohol when I come over?”

“What, and miss great moments like…” He reached up and grabbed your nose, making the same boop-honking sound you had made weeks ago. 

You pushed his hands away. “First of all, that is not what I sounded like. Secondly, I’m no lightweight. You know that. How many times have I drunk you under the table?”

He lifted a finger and opened his mouth to argue but then thought it over. “Good point.” You gave an approving nod. “But that was one time, in San Antonio.” He was referring to the day trip you had taken so you could visit the Alamo. You had never been and when you mentioned it, he insisted on being your guide. Carla and Emily were supposed to go as well but the latter had gotten sick so her mom stayed home with her. Beau didn’t want to leave Emily and you were willing to reschedule but Carla insisted you both still go. When you visited a bar later on, Beau issued a little friendly drinking competition between the two of you, as long as one of you was still sober enough to drive home. He had been convinced he would emerge victorious; he was wrong. That had been a long ride on the I-10. By the end of the night, Carla had her hands full with two sick people, each having their own trash baskets by their bedsides. It took some time but she eventually forgave you.

You held up two fingers. “Twice actually. You didn’t really think I’d let you forget Austin’s birthday party at that place in downtown Houston, did you?”

The man winced. “Alright, alright. Twice.” You nodded in approval. “Now, all the talk about drinking aside, you did just remind me how my time with people I care about has been interrupted quite a bit lately. Even if you’re set to drive, just stay. We can watch a movie and you can have the bed.”

A part of you wanted to accept but the other part wanted to retreat to your sanctuary, where you could break down in tears or mope around in peace. “I don’t really want to spend another night in the tin can,” you whined. “My bed is so much more comfortable and I feel it calling to me right now…” You glanced longingly in the direction of the road.

Beau’s jaw dropped. “Tin can? Between you and Em, I swear… Why can’t my girl get any respect around here?”

“Because you refer to it as a girl. You know how I feel about that.” Another eye-roll. “Beau Arlen, you keep rolling those eyes of yours at me, they’re going to fall out of your head. You just wait.”

“Sure they will.” He laid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer and giving you a smirk. You couldn’t help but lean into him, hoping to feel that closeness between you again even if it was only physically. “What if I whip out some marshmallows? Whaddya say?”

“Are you really trying to bribe me to spend the night? With a gooey, sugary, yet very deliciously fluffy confectionery treat, no less?”  

“Is it working?”

You shrugged though deep down you knew it was. Marshmallows over a fire were your kryptonite and the son of a bitch knew it. “Tell me you have graham crackers and some chocolate that’s not expired, and you’ve got a deal.”

He beamed at you like a kid seeing wrapped presents under the tree on Christmas morning, making your heart feel a little lighter. How could you say no to that?

A few s’mores and quite a few more beers later, you were snuggled into his side, rapidly falling asleep. He had insisted you sit with him in his chair so you could both huddle under his one blanket for warmth on the cold night. Your drunken giggles may have made a reappearance as he worked to adjust the both of you for maximum blanket coverage but you would never admit to it if ever questioned in open court. You swore you’d buy him a few more blankets, especially when the thought popped into your head that there was a possibility that he and Hoyt had cuddled and done God knew what else under that thing. You’d even tried to wiggle it off of you since the thought took root in your stomach and soured (or maybe that was the beer), but Beau kept tucking it around you and pulling you closer until you finally gave up and settled against him with a sigh. The sound of his heartbeat and his deep voice as he spoke to you lulled you into slumber almost immediately. You thought you felt his lips brush against your forehead and you could have sworn he said something akin to “Definitely came true” but you had practically drunk your weight in beer and you were exhausted from the late hour as well as all of the roiling emotions inside of you so you couldn’t be sure it wasn’t something you dreamt instead. When you woke up with a massive headache the next day, alone in Beau’s bed with the blanket completely wrapped around you while the man snored from the couch, a dream was definitely what you chalked it up to.

And now here you were, yet again, at another impasse over the insufferable pain in your ass named Jenny Hoyt. The woman barely interacted with you, preferring to act like you didn’t exist or to silently glare at you from across the room, and she wasn’t even here, but somehow there she was, always in between the two of you. It really made you miss the old days, back before things went to shit for Beau in Houston. Back when things were a lot less complicated. 

“Davis is booking Webb so I’ll go finish up the paperwork.” You turned to head towards the door.

“Y/N,” Beau sighed, giving you a pleading look.

“Thanks for the talk. I’ll catch you later.” You sent a forced smile his way and slowly spun out the door, closing it behind you. Passing by Poppernak on your way to your desk, you snatched a muffin right out of his hand. 

“Hey! That’s the only blueberry from the bag. Madge got the other.”

“That sucks,” you teased before breaking off a piece of the top and tossing it into your mouth. “I thought you liked chocolate chip, anyway.”

“Nah, not anymore. It gives me bad heartburn,” he confirmed sadly.

You couldn’t help but arch a brow at him. “And blueberry doesn’t?”

He shrugged. “Not as much.”

With a roll of your eyes, you tossed the muffin back at him and he caught it with a bright smile. You slipped the paper out of your back pocket and punched a familiar number into your phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Your mother, Pepper Snaps.” Poppernak frowned over at you. You couldn’t blame him; you were being a total crankpot. It wasn’t just your recent conversation with Beau or Hoyt’s attitude or even your most recent case. You hated that you had to sit at a desk in the middle of a busy station while Beau and Hoyt got to have their own offices. Normally, you wouldn’t care, but when it came to phone calls or conversations best kept away from prying eyes and overeager ears, it was frustrating. You weren’t a deputy — you had as much authority as Hoyt, and Beau had made that perfectly clear to the department when you started (though you had a different title due to politics and budgetary reasons). Due to lack of room, however, you were forced to share a space with them, your deskmate being Poppernak. Not that you minded but damn the rest of the department could be so nosy sometimes. When you noticed a couple of other deputies watching you, you asked loudly, “Can’t a girl get some privacy around here?” All of them looked away, not willing to enter into yet another glaredown with you. They never emerged victorious in those encounters, even Miller who could be a real jerk when he wanted to be. They had all learned very quickly in your first week that you could hold your own and you could go endless rounds with the best of them. You could stand the heat and before long, it would be your kitchen and they’d be burnt to a goddamn crisp or running for the door. 

“Mind your muffin,” you grumbled to Pops.

When the line connected and the operator asked you who you were trying to contact, you cupped your hand over the mouthpiece and asked for the department you needed. While you were being transferred, Pops arched his eyebrows at you in question since he had overheard you because no damn privacy.

You let out a sigh in resignation and shook your head. “I’m following up on a case. It’s nothing.”

“Sure sounds like something,” Pops said through a mouthful of muffin.

Giving him a look, you sat back in your chair and listened patiently to the public information that substituted what normally would be hold music. You thought back to your ride over to the station and what Webb had said while in the back of your car. You may have pushed the right buttons to get him to open up and say enough to help you make the decision you just made, but you didn’t have any evidence that anything he’d mentioned was the truth. Still, you knew what you saw and you knew what your instincts were telling you. Like Beau said, you couldn’t get involved but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do something.

A few minutes later, after consistently turning Webb’s words over and over in your mind and listening to the same public safety message for the twelfth time, someone finally answered.

“Agent Sanchez? It’s Y/N Y/L/N. Not sure if you remember me from the Carter case last year. How’ve you been?” Carter had been an escaped convict that a manhunt had been on for last year, and it had been an all hands on deck situation. You and your partner had been stuck with Sanchez and this other dickish agent whose name wasn’t even worth remembering, but you and Sanchez had gotten along well enough to help get the job done. In the end, Carter had been apprehended and dumped back in prison thanks to the cooperation and joint efforts of all of the agencies involved.

You made a little small talk and then you got right to the point. “Listen, do you happen to have any contacts in the branch office in Montana? You do? Do you think you could put me in touch? I have a case up here that I think one of their departments might want to take a look at.”

Sanchez gave you the name and number of his contact, told you to keep him updated, and let him know if you needed anything else. He also mentioned you should call him to go for a drink next time you were in town. Remembering the wedding ring he had been sporting, you gave him a vague but polite noncommittal, thanked him, and promptly hung up. You glanced up to find Pops staring at you wide-eyed.

“What?”

He glanced around, seeming unsure, and then leaned in closer. “Does the boss know you’re doing this? Because if Hoyt finds out you’re pulling the Feds into this, she’s going to—”

You held up a hand after you dialed the next number and unfolded the paper from your pocket, looking at the information you needed. “Pops, let me stop you right there. I spoke to the sheriff already about this case. What Hoyt does or doesn’t do, doesn’t concern me, and the same goes for her where I’m concerned. Understood?”

Poppernak shook his head and leaned back. “Okay but it’s your head if she finds out. Just warning you.”

You gave him a wide grin right before the line connected once again. “She can try.”

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #big sky fanfiction #beau x reader #beau x y/n #beau x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau x female reader #only ever holding onto you #beau arlen

[svalleynow]

Wanted by the Marion County Sheriff's Department

If you know the whereabouts of any of the subjects pictured, please contact the Marion County Sheriff’s Department at 423-942-2525, or if they are not in Marion County, please contact your local law enforcement agency.

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#Chattanooga News #Haletown #Jasper News #Kimball News #Marion County News #Marion County Sheriff&039;s Department #Monteagle #New Hope #Sequatchie Valley News #South Pittsburg News #Whitwell News

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

deep dark valley | rhett abbott x oc, time travel au

Summary: A year ago, Rebecca Abbott went missing. Now, Rhett is nowhere to be found. The Amelia County Sheriff's Department has put together a search party. One of the volunteers: Tessa Abernathy. But it takes more than searching on horseback for her to find him out in the west pasture. (wc: 3631)

Warnings: background ocs, 🕳 the hole 🕳, language, a bit of a cliffhanger and a flashforward

✎……To start off falltober on a slightly spooky note: the time travel au! I'm really liking how this story is going so far. Please let me know your thoughts and if you want me to continue this! I have so many thoughts and ideas!

✎……MAIN MASTERLIST || FALLTOBER MASTERLIST

Don’t go out in the fields at night, Where the black sky opens at your feet And swallows you whole A god with a sickle,  tearing through time Don’t go out in the fields at night, You’ll disappear without a trace Not to be found, not to be home And come back later Not completely whole Don’t go out in the fields at night,  Unless you want To risk your life

Rhett Abbott went missing three days ago. Sent out to check the fences on his family’s ranch on Wednesday and he never came back. The Abbotts thought he was just off doing what Rhett did — drinking or bedding some girl he didn’t know for a few days. So they didn’t call the police until he had been missing for a full forty-eight hours. Worry starting to settle in when they finally seemed to notice that his truck was still parked up by the barn just north of the house.

The sheriff put out a call that a search party should gather at the Abbott ranch at two o’clock after the missing person’s report was finalized and an initial investigation had been underway. Rhett was still out on Abbott land somewhere, of that much the police were certain. Possibly hurt. And he needed to be found fast before anything worse happened to him out there — the weather forecast showing his impending doom as a great storm cloud approached the region. 

Tessa Abernathy, along with her father and mother, answered that call. Arriving at the Abbott ranch with their horses in tow to search the land as best they could. 

Tessa couldn’t imagine what Royal and Cece must have been going through. It wasn’t even a year ago that their daughter-in-law Rebecca went missing on their land. Went out for a walk to cool off one night and never came back home. Her father, the cynic he sometimes was, said it was a little suspicious that another person just disappeared on their property. He wondered if they should just start digging instead of looking for that boy alive. 

His wife and daughter both told him to stop talking like that. His defensive what? making them double down on their efforts.

“You went t’school with’im, didn’ya, Tess?” her mom asked as she peered into the back bench seat where her daughter sat with her knees scrunched up. 

“Yeah,” she answered, unable to look at either of them as she turned her head to look out the window, watching the endless Wyoming landscape zoom past. “Graduated the same year. I — I hope he’s okay.”

“M’sure he’s fine. Jus’got a little lost s’all.”

“On’is own land? That don’t happen! Unless he’s drunk…”

“Nate! Will you quit!” her mom hissed, hitting her husband lightly on the arm with a pointed look back at Tessa.

It wasn’t like she was close to Rhett. She barely spoke two words to him in school and not a single one after graduation. Their friend groups didn’t mix and she stopped doing rodeo stuff. They might have lived in the same small town with not much to do, but the two of them just never seemed to cross paths. Still, a pit, an open maw that gnawed at her insides, had opened up in her gut when she heard the news that he was missing. It hadn’t gone away since and only worsened when they turned into the drive that branched off into the Tillerson and Abbott ranch entrances. The simple rought iron gate with that circled A looming over them like some omen she didn’t understand and didn’t want to. 

What anguish the Abbotts must be experiencing, what worry. What tears had been shed. And what if Rhett was out there somewhere? Injured and alone. Hungry and cold. It made her guts twist up and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Hand reflexivly curling around the bag she brought. Filled with a fresh bottle of water, food, and a first aid kit — just in case she found him. Just in case he needed it. 

Tessa hadn’t prayed since she was a little girl and her parents still dragged her to church every Sunday. But she closed her eyes and spoke to the Lord then as their truck pulled up to the Abbott ranch house. 

Please let him be out there. Let him be okay. Let someone, anyone, find him.

Her father killed the engine and they all climbed out of the truck. The sheriff and deputy were already there, standing on the Abbotts porch talking with Royal and Perry. Cece was out in the yard, talking to a few other women. There were about twenty people there already. All with their four-wheelers and gators and horses to aid them in their search of the expansive land. The sky was growing dark, greyed over in cloud, a wind blowing in from the east.

That storm was coming in faster than anyone expected.

When Cece noticed them, she wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself, and approached with a tight smile. 

“Thank you f’r comin’,” she almost whispered as she wrapped Tessa’s mom up in a hug.

Her dad patted her on the back, all skeptism gone as he said, “‘Course. Can’t even imagine. Anythin’ else we c’n do t’help — jus’let us know.” 

“I’ppreciate that,” Cece said as she pulled away from the embrace. 

Then she caught sight of Tessa still standing by the truck, hands stuffed in her Carhartt pockets, trying to blend into the background. But there Cece was. Walking up to her with tears in her eyes and the wind blowing her brown hair across her wrinkled face. 

“Thank you,” she said as she took Tessa by the shoulder firmly. 

What do you say to someone who keeps losing family left and right? What do you say to a mother whose son is gone — and might be gone forever? Tessa surely didn’t know as words and phrases that all seemed cliche and insincere rolled and tumbled on her tongue until they all felt like a knotted mess in her throat. Clogging her up until all that came out was: 

“N-No problem.” 

That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say. But Cece didn’t seem to mind. She only smiled and gave her shoulder another squeeze. Then let go to talk to her parents some more. Tessa heaved a sigh of relief as she slipped away, turning on her heel to check on the horses in the trailer. 

A few minutes past two, the sheriff rounded up the search party and gave designated zones of land for people to search. The Abernathys and the Brownings were going to search the west pasture until dark. The section of their land that Royal said Rhett was supposed to be checking the fences of — that butted up against Tillerson property. 

None of the Abbotts’ neighbors showed up to help with the search. Not even Luke, who seemed to be the only one with his head on straight. But neither Royal or Cece seemed to mind. It was probably best that they stayed away, considering the two families' history of bickering and petty squabbling that Tessa only heard in gossip her parents liked to share around the kitchen table. 

At the sheriff’s call for everyone to head out, Tessa mounted her horse. 

Peaches stamped her feet and whinnied softly as Tessa settled into the saddle, a loose hold on the reigns. Her horse was excited to explore the new land, having not gotten off her own family’s ranch much since Tessa retired from barrel racing some years ago. With a click of her tongue and a light kick of her heel into Peaches’ side, they were off at a trot towards the west pasture. 

No one spoke. Abernathys on their horses and Brownings on their four-wheelers. A heavy tension in the air that could nearly be touched. Nothing to fill the silence save for the high-pitched whine of the small engines and the distant sounds of thunder. Tessa looked to the east, one hand on her thigh as she guided Peaches forward. The clouds were still a few miles out, but they were dark as night, lightning already shooting out. The wind whipped at her face. It even smelled like a storm.

“Y’all go north from’ere! We’ll go south!” Mr. Browning shouted over the noise. 

The three Abernathys nodded, and turned their horses to the north. Into pasture that seemed neverending. And after only a few minutes of riding together, they split off as well. 

Tessa veered even more north, towards the treeline. The trees felt like a logical place for him to be. If he got injured and lost his horse, it would provide at least some cover from the elements. Her eyes darted this way and that, focused on the ground, never stopping for long, just enough to make sure there was no sign of Rhett. Picking over the land slowly. She hoped and prayed for the toe of a boot, a scrap of blue jean, or a flash of flannel amongst the dried leaves and ferns and long grasses. Hoped that she would recognize it if she did see it. 

But so far, there was nothing. 

Nothing but empty fields and silence and an incoming storm that would surely cut their search short. 

Sighing, Tessa looked up from the ground for the first time in ages. Her parents and their horses were nowhere in sight. How long had she been looking? How far away were they? A knot formed in the pit of her stomach, her hands tightening around the reins as Peaches shifted anxiously. Tessa didn’t like being alone out here. With the grey and infinite sky, the unsettling howling of the wind, a missing person nowhere to be found. 

Only a mile ahead, she could see the fence line, barbed wire and thick posts, that separated the Abbott land from the Tillersons. Hopefully, if she followed the fence line and headed south from there, she would run into her parents eventually. She guided Peaches in that direction and took off at a faster pace than she had been going previously, eyes still scanning the ground for any sign of Rhett despite her discomfort. 

Suddenly, a hum filled the air. It sounded nearly mechanical — but also animalistic. Otherworldly, coming from a certain point but also coming from everywhere all at once. It made a shiver run up Tessa’s spine like a finger of ice as she turned her head towards what sounded like the source of the noise. Just a little further north. What appeared to be nothing. 

But what if it was Rhett? 

What if he had heard the same strange noise just before he disappeared?

Tessa pushed down her fears, wrestled them into a pit at the very center of her gut that sat heavy and insistent, as she got down from Peaches’ back. She wasn’t about to run off because she was scared. Rhett needed help, and this noise could lead her right to him. So she walked forward. Leaving Peaches behind.

The humming got louder the further she walked. And when she got to the source, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her veins felt frozen. Her lungs seized up, her chest heaving. And despite every instinct telling her to turn back, get back on her horse and run — she couldn’t move.

A horrible void was laid out before her. Large and gaping and utterly black. A dust floated and danced just on the surface. The hum was coming from deep within. Gentle and continuous. It was shaped like a perfectly circular hole in the ground. With no sign of a bottom at the end of it. Just great consuming blackness and swirling dust. Like the opposite of the sun, it seemed to sap what was left of the light trying to stream through the clouds. Casting the field in shadows that stretched and stretched to meet their maker at the center of it all. Even the noise of the wind and the coming storm and small creatures thriving in the tall grass ceased. 

And the void, humming and consuming, called to her. 

 Her feet moved of their own accord, unable to resist as they carried her forward towards the hole. 

Standing mere inches from it now, she could feel the pull of it. The tug that drew in the light and the shadows and the noise. It pulled at her gut. It wanted to take her as well. Another step forward, and she was at the edge. Like standing on a cliff.

Run, run, run — get away everything inside her screamed. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked deep into the void just past the tips of her boots. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the wind blew past her. All around her. But the hum of the inky blackness sang just for her. She felt herself leaning forward. 

Then Peaches whinnied somewhere behind her. Tessa turned sharply — and suddenly she was falling back.

Infinite cold. Infinite darkness. Nothing and everything all at once. There was no ground beneath her and no sky above. Floating through a nothingness that cradled her on all sides with a hum. Because it wasn’t falling. Not quite. Tessa felt there would be no end to this. She would spend the rest of time and space surrounded by void. Consumed. Gone forever.

Just like Rebecca. 

Just like Rhett.

Wait. 

Grass.

Grass beneath her palm. She was touching grass. No longer falling down but crawling up. A desperation filled her to be free of the inky dark and cold, as she dug her fingers into the earth and pulled with all her strength. A gasp escaping past her lips as her head broke through the void and she was staring up into pale blue sky. Like she was finally breaking through the surface of water. 

Then a hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her up. Tessa cried out as she was yanked belly first onto the grass. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Like she had been holding her breath for too long. There was a ringing in her ears that wouldn’t stop. And the sun — the sun felt so bright after what felt like an eternity, an entire life age of the earth spent in darkness.

She was then rolled onto her back, a pressure and weight placed on her cheek. There was a muffled voice, like listening to someone through a wall. She tried to open her eyes; blinked against the harsh light of the sun. But quickly, the form of someone’s face was taking shape.

Rhett Abbott’s face. 

“R-Rhe…?” she tried, but the sound of his name came out heavy on her tongue.

Blue eyes looked down at her with concern pulling his brows down over them. His chin and jaw were covered in a layer of scruff. And his hair…It seemed longer than in the picture the sheriff passed out. His face looked harder too. Like he had seen things he shouldn’t — or more than he should have. 

“Hey, hey, c’you hear me? Y’r gonna be alright. We just gotta…” He trailed off as he looked away from her. Then his expression dropped. “No, no, no, no! Not again! Shit — fuck! Come on! Fuck!”

His face disappeared from her sight completely. The weight of what she could only assume was his hand falling away from her face.

She could look up at the sky without squinting at least. Pale blue. The color of early morning. Not a storm cloud in sight. How long was she…Gone? Where even were they?

The only way to find out is if she sat up and got her bearings. Even if all she really wanted to do was go to sleep and try and pretend this was all just some bad dream her friends would think was crazy. But this couldn’t have been a dream. The grass was damp beneath her, wetting her clothes and sending a chill over her skin. It poked into her bare hands. She could smell smoke and hay off in the distance. Those things didn’t happen in dreams.

So she pulled herself up into a sitting position with a groan, blinking hard to further adjust to the light. 

Rhett was sitting beside her. Elbows over his knees with his head hung low against his chest. Her brow furrowed as she took in his attire. Brown pants and worn, dusty boots; suspenders and a white button up that looked too big for him. Not his usual style if she remembered him right — or remembered what century they were in for that matter. 

“Wha —” she tried to ask, but her voice cracked. She coughed and tried again. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’ve been stuck’ere for six months,” Rhett grumbled, not even looking up at her as he spoke. “‘N’now y’r stuck too.”

“Rhett…Y’ve been missin’ for three days…?” 

He finally turned his head to look at her, brows furrowed as he ticked his jaw to one side. “Guess that makes sense. Considerin’ when it fuckin’ spat us out.” 

Drawing his hands over his face with a sigh, Tessa only became more confused. Besides the sudden change in weather, and maybe the sudden change in the time of day (and his clothes and the fact she just fell into a black hole and Rhett Abbott pulled her out of it), everything seemed normal. They even appeared to be in the same field as the one she found that hole in, which was gone now. No hum and no all-consuming darkness. But now that she looked around…There were more trees surrounding them than she remembered. And when did that hill rising to the east with the little log cabin sitting on top, get there?

“I don’understand…” she said with a slow shake of her head as she looked around.

“I don’understand much either. But what I do know s’that I fell n’a hole six months ago n’climbed out of it here — in this field. N’now y’re here. So, same thing must’a happened t’you,” he replied, blunt and bitter.

“I — yeah. I-I guess so. I’s out on y’r family’s land…Lookin’ for ya.” His head jerked over to look at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “Didn’know I’d have t’fall n’a black hole n’order t’find ya, though.” 

A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, but then he looked away again with a shake of his head. “M’sorry. This…Shit…It ain’t gonna be easy.”

“What?” she asked, a sudden and acute fear gripping at her heart.

“That hole didn’jus’ spit us out n’a different place. It spat us out n’a different time.”

Grass beneath her palm. She was touching grass. No longer falling down but crawling up. A desperation filled her to be free of the inky dark and cold, as she dug her fingers into the earth and pulled with all her strength. Which she knew there wasn’t much left of. A gasp escaped past her lips as her head broke through the void and she was staring up into brilliant blue sky. Like she was finally breaking through the surface of water.

Her other hand found purchase in the dirt and she pulled. With a cry and a soft groan, she landed belly fist onto the grass. Gasping for breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire, she rolled over onto her back.

At least the sky felt familiar. At least her body didn’t ache like she thought it would. Like it did before she jumped. She did wonder though, as she laid there trying to adjust, how she was going to get up from the ground. She was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten down in the dirt for twenty-odd years.

Distantly, like from a different room of the house, she heard a groan and a thud as another body crawled out of the black void. She felt his presence at her side, like he was always supposed to be, solid and warm. Tessa smiled. 

Good. He made it too.

She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. 

What she saw was not what she expected. 

It was a picture of herself. Young and beautiful. The glass protecting it stained from rain and sun, leaned up against a lone fence post. The large picture was surrounded by smaller ones. Wilted flowers. Crosses. Teddy bears. Wreaths. And candles long burnt out. Tessa craned her neck to see what else was there. On another fence post was a picture of Rhett. Handsome as the day he pulled her out of that hole with his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t have as many things surrounding his picture, but still, there were flowers and candles and a few belt buckles strewn around.

No. It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t spit them back out right where they left off.

Would it?

Tessa turned her head towards where Rhett lay beside her and her chest heaved. Her heart raced in her chest. Her limbs felt heavy.

Handsome as the day he pulled her out of that hole. Unburdended by time and years upon years of hard work. Strong and lean. Before she even knew she was moving, Tessa rolled over onto her side and leaned against his chest. She took his smooth face between her hands, hands ungnarled with no wrinkles in sight, as a shaky breath escaped her.

Rhett opened his eyes, blue and dark as an oncoming storm. Blinked against the harsh light after infinite darkness. And then widened at the sight of her.

“Sunshine?” he whispered, fingers curling around her waist.

She smiled down at him, tears stinging her eyes. “This ain’t gonna be easy.”

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