A/N: i know this part is a little short, but it’s here! thank you for all the support, it really does mean a lot to me! feel free to send feedback, as always, and any suggestions you may have for the story. i have a vauge idea of a main story line, but i’d love your input for smaller ones or whatever you may have! please REBLOG if you enjoyed and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. i also wanna say thank you to everyone letting me know when the tags aren’t working, i know it’s frustrating but bare with me while i figure it out!
SYNOPSIS: a strange case brings you to the Windy City wearing polyester jumpsuits
WORD COUNT: 1693
It isn’t that dressing up as alarm system employees was beneath you, it was that dressing up, in itself, was becoming a more embarrassing part of your job. It was mostly Sam’s idea and at least Dean was on your side, tugging at the cheap polyester clinging to his thighs. “I’ve gotta say, we were doing just fine without these stupid costumes,” he says. “I feel like a high school drama dork.” The costumes were a new development post-operation Get John Back, courtesy of Sam’s desire to keep everything at mute as possible. You and Dean clearly did not share the same mindset.
The suits, in fact, did come from a costume store, completed with a tool box that Dean is carrying as you walk up the streets of Chicago. Horns were blaring, people were yelling and the pollution was thick but you always did have a soft spot for the city.
They were calling it a Sleuth Killer, the thing that killed Meredith Rodgers in her apartment. It wasn’t unusual for murders in cities like these to go uninvestigated. Most of the time they chalked it up to gang violence or a freak accident and that was the end of it but the moment you read this article, the entire thing seemed too fishy to just be a coincidence.
“What was that play that you did?” Dean asks, snapping his fingers and pointing at Sam.
“You were in a play?” You perk up, looking at the younger brother with excitement. It’s always fun finding out new things about the boys, things that happened before you and before this.
Dean continues to snap his fingers as he thinks. His nose scrunching up in focus as you bounce on your own feet waiting for more informtion. “Our Town!” Dean cheers when his memory comes back to him. “Yeah,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “You were good. It was cute.”
“Look,” Sam says, trying to change the subject just as you lean into Dean to ask more questions about this play and maybe if he had video evidence of it hidden somewhere. “You wanna pull this off or not?”
“I’m just saying these outfits cost hard earned money,” Dean says.
You shrug your shoulders and look down at your outfit. It was an ugly shade of navy blue, the fabric made you look frumpy and not to mention the awful shoes. “I kind of like the costumes sometimes,” you say. But mostly when they involved dressing up in tights and a pretty skirt and not like a city laborer.
“Whose money?” Sam asks his brother, ignoring you.
“Ours! You think running credit card fraud is easy?”
+++
The landlord was more than willing to let you inside Meredith’s apartment, which was no longer blocked off by crime scene tape but still had the evidence stained on the white carpeting. It was the only evidence of a crime even happening. Everything else was still perfect, the way that Meredith wanted them. The only weird part, besides the blood, was the fact that Meredith had at least five different deadbolts installed on her door.
“You guys said you’re with the alarm company?” The landlord asks. She’s a short woman dressed in comfy clothes: a long cardigan and t-shirt underneath and her hair was in a bun on the back of her head. You all mumble, confirming her question. “No offense but your alarms are about as useful as boobs on a man.”
You try to stifle a laugh as Sam looks down at you smirking. “Well, that’s why we’re here,” Dean says. “To see what went wrong and to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” The landlord nods her head and glances around the room, shivers a little bit under the grotesque situation.
“Ma’am. You said you found the body?” You ask her. The question was meant to distract her from looking at all the blood on the floor, but it probably ended up making her think about it more. She twists the key around in her hands and nods. “Right after it happened?”
“No. A few days later. Meredith’s work called and she hadn’t showed up,” she says. Most of this information you already read in the news article that Sam was reading out loud in the car on your way but you ask her anyway while the boys check the surroundings as if they were looking for the alarm sensors. “I knocked on her door and that’s when I noticed the smell.”
“Any windows open? Any sign of break in?” Dean asks.You turn your head to look at him. He was holding a curtain open and the view from her window was spectacular. You start to miss it the moment the curtains falls closed.
“No. The windows were locked, the front door was bolted. Chain was on the door, we
had to cut it to get it open,” she explains like she was telling an adventure story. One with so many twists and turns it was hard to keep it straight. She has a dispassionte tone about her voice, though. Like maybe telling it as a story was easier than admitting it happened to her.
“And the alarm was still on?” Dean moves his finger around in a circle as he walks toward you and the landlord.
“Like I said, bang-up job your company is doing.” Dean just agrees softly and your eyes dance around the room. The blood splatters don’t seem like splatters to you. Their placement just too perfect and your eyes are so drawn to them, it’s hard to take them off.
“Any overturned furniture? Broken glass or signs of struggle?” At this point, Dean is just fishing for her to say yes to anything that deems this as normal but she just shook her head once again and Dean lets out a sigh. You start to walk the trail of blood, noting how the big ones seem to be always the same distance apart. Only being strung together but smaller spots.
“Everything was in perfect condition,” she maintains. “Except Meredith.” Your eyes snap back to her as her voice quiets down and darkness cover her eyes.
“What condition was she in?” You asked softly.
Without looking at you, she answers. “Meredith was all over. In pieces. The guy who killed her must have been a wack job. But I’ll tell you, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have said a wild animal did it.” You look up at Sam, whose standing by a window and then you look down at Dean, who’s crouched down by the desk chair looking at a pool of blood and you sigh.
“Ma’am, would you mind if we just took a minute? Give this place a once over?” Sam asks and the woman agrees, leaving the key on the coffee table and exiting the apartment as if her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough.
The tool box that Dean was carrying did come with the costumes, however the contents
inside were all your own. EMF readers, blacklights, temperature detectors. All the makings for a ghost hunting were inside. “So, the killer walks in and out of the apartment. No weapons, no prints, nothing,” Dean says.
“I’m telling you, when I read that article. I just knew that something was off,” you say. The moment you saw the heading, you ran over to Sam and showed him and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind either. The EMF reader going off in Dean’s hand seemed to be certain, too.
“I think I agree with you,” Dean mumbles.
“So, you talked to the cops?” Sam asks while he and Dean sweep the room with their gadgets. You, empty handed, walk the path of the blood. Your eyes trained to the ground, following the pattern over and over again trying to make sense of it.
“Oh, yeah. I spoke to Amy,” Dean says absently. “A charming, perky, officer of the law.”
“What did you find out?” You ask, oblivious to Dean’s statement. You both were to engrossed in your own tasks to put much force into your voice.
“She’s a Sagittarius and loves tequila,” Dean says.
“I’m a Sagittarius, too!” You perk up and glance over at him, but he doesn’t look at you and he doesn’t stop talking.
“I mean, whew. And oh, she’s got this little tattoo--”
“Dean!” Sam snaps, turning around to face him with his hands up. Sometimes, you wonder if Sam feels like a dad trying to rangle in his toddlers. Because, quit honestly, that’s sometimes how you feel when the boys fight.
“What?” Dean looks back at Sam and then shakes the thought of Amy out of his head. “Nothing that we don’t already know. Except for one thing they’re keeping out of the papers.” Sam looks back down at his reader and mumbles for Dean to keep going. “Meredith’s heart was missing,” he says.
“What?” You ask, your attention leaving the blood pattern. Sam seemed a little less phased than you, but his eyebrows raised in interest. “So what do you think did this?” You ask softly as the boys meet you in the middle of the apartment.
“Well the landlady said it looks like an animal attack. Maybe it was a werewolf?” Dean suggests. Your fingers dance in the pattern of the blood.
“The lunar cycle isn’t right. If it was a creature, it would have left some kind of trace,” Sam suggests. “It’s probably a spirit.” You nod your head to the side like you’d consider the thought but Dean saw the half-ass attempt at making Sam feel like he was on to something while your brain was already onto the next and the next after that.
“What’s up?” Dean asks you.
“Do we have duct tape?” The boys exchange a look but Dean checks the tool box and Sam digs through Meredith’s junk drawers for some kind of tape and when they find it, Dean hands the roll you to you and you begin connecting all the dots of blood together with it. The pattern was cohesive and with actual lines connecting the dots, you were able to see it clearly on the floor in front of you rather than a foggy image in your brain.
“What the hell is it?” Sam asks as you stand back and look at the final product.
Sweet Pea Series (Part 1 / Part 2/ Part 3 / Part 4 )
Fandom: Riverdale
Pairing: Sweet Pea / y/n
Warnings: lil bit of swearing (but what else would you expect of my writing)
I woke up and rolled over in bed, immediately regretting it.
Groaning, I sat up and dangled my feet over the edge of the bed. I ended up crashing at Jughead’s trailer. He insisted on letting me sleep in his room, while he took the couch.
I stood up and walked drowsily into the living room.
Jughead paced back and forth, while that Archie kid sat on the couch watching him.
I glared at the redhead. Jughead noticed me, and stopping his pacing said, “Y/n don’t.”
I sighed, “Fine.” Then I shot one last glare at Archie, “If Jug trusts you, then that’s good enough for me. But if you bruise up my lovely boyfriend’s face again, I will actually kill you.”
He nodded, taking in my battered appearance and figuring that I probably wasn’t joking. “Noted.”
Jughead turned to me, “We’re going to the station,” he said, “Wanna come?”
“They’re letting people see them now?” I asked with wide eyes.
~~~~~
After a mostly silent ride in FP’s truck, we finally made it to the station. We walked in and gave our names, and they led us back to the visiting area.
One officer led me on one direction while another led Jughead and Archie in another. I shot Jughead a confused look.
‘We’re going to talk to my dad,” he said reassuringly, “Go see Sweet Pea.”
I nodded and followed the officer back into an empty room.
He left and I sat in the chair. The desk in front of me was divided by a grimy sheet of plexi glass.
On the other side, they led Sweet Pea in. I let out a small sigh of relief. He seemed pretty okay, pretty pissed off too, but okay nonetheless.
He sat down on the other side of glass. His eyes widened in concern as he looked me over.
I reached for the phone hung on the wall next to me and he did the same on his side.
“Hey Sweets,” I said, smiling weakly at him.
“Hey baby,” he said softly, eyes glued to my split lip and black eye.
I was just about to ask how he as doing, but he cut me off. “You did the gauntlet anyway, didn’t you,” it was more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah,” I grinned, “Law #1.” Then I saw the look on his face. “Babe you’re not mad that I did it without you, are you?”
“Well I would have liked to be there,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I should have been the one to give you your jacket. I should have taken you home and cleaned you up. Who was it then? Jughead?” he asked irritably.
“I’m sorry, Sweets,” I sighed, “But you know they would have thought I was weak if I called it off. Plus, if you were there, you would have had to hit me. I know how much you didn’t want to do that.”
He sighed, “You’re right babe. It would have killed me to do that to you.” He stared at me for a moment, a look of pride growing on his face. He leaned forward on the table, “So, where’d you get your tattoo?” he smirked.
I placed my hand over the still-tender spot on my ribcage, a small grin on my face.
He grinned, “Can’t wait to see it,” he said suggestively. “Really though babe, I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I smiled, “Thank you, Pea.” Then I sighed, “I can’t stand seeing you in there, babe.”
To be honest it wasn’t the first time I’d visited him at the station. But at least in the past there was a good reason, he had actually done something to get behind bars. This time it was just the Northside ragging on us like usual, because being in a gang automatically meant that everything wrong with this screwed up town is apparently our fault. It was bullshit.
“I know, baby,” he said, “But don’t worry, I’ll be out of here soon enough.”
I raised an eyebrow, “You better be.”
He shook his head, “I’m just glad they didn’t nab you too.”
“They couldn’t pin anything on me,” I shrugged.
“Now they can though,” he said seriously. “So promise me baby, please be careful.”
I nodded, “I will, Sweets.”
He pressed his hand up against the glass. “I love you, y/n,” he said into the phone.
I placed my hand over his, separated by the glass. “I love you too, Sweet Pea.”
