#contrarymuses

The clattering of heels against the floor filled the gallery among the low chattering, the woman with long dark hair and even darker eyes strutting with purpose; red painted lips pressed together, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as her upper lip curled in a not so subtle sneer. She marched on, gaze flickering around the room in search of her target. And upon catching him in the midst of a conversation, her pace quickened, the clicking of her heels piercing through the babbling around her. Eventually, she came to a halt less than a few feet from the blond haired man she had seen in pictures on her son’s social media. 

“Excuse me, are you Nathan Chambers?”

Mason pressed his lips to the top of Riley’s head before resting his chin on her head again. Her being shorter than him had advantages sometimes. How easily she fit against his body was definitely was that he loved. 

“Mmm. I just got in,” he murmured, reaching around to steal veggies off the counter. As she turned to face him, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Some of that for me?” he asked, grinning widely. 

@ashesrisen

@ericbrandonrp

@av3ngersassvmble

@contrarymuses

@thc-wrong-side-of-heaven

@cupido-periculosa

@shesboundtolose

@telekineticdivinity

éile was surrounded by doctors and cops. she could barely sort out what was going on- everything was loud and overwhelming and blurry. her head hurt so fucking much. as her vision slowly cleared, so did her head. she was in the hospital! not the damp, dark basement... there were cops and doctors... she’d been found. how long had it been since she was kidnapped? éile’s eyes darted to and fro, looking desperately for something familiar. she couldn’t get a grip, and no one seemed to realize that she was awake. idiots. 

❝for fuck’s sake,❞ éile hollered despite how badly it hurt her throat, ❝get out! get out, get out, get the fuck out!❞ there were too many people and it was making her uncomfortable. too many doctors... she hated hospitals... too many men. everyone whipped around to look at her, wide-eyed with shock. éile’s heartbeat spread up and she struggled to breathe, because anxiety was clawing ferociously at her throat. suddenly she could feel the iv in her arm and she bit back a scream, her eyes starting to tear up. she would curl into a ball if she felt like she could move without putting herself in immense pain. 

oh, her ribs hurt so badly. everything hurt. everything was so loud, so bright. she wanted it to stop. she wanted to go back to sleep. 

the doctors finally unfroze and rushed her, all at once. éile finally did scream. she screamed and screamed and screamed every time one tried to touch her. she couldn’t see because her eyes were so blurred by tears. 

normally, éile would never lose her composure. 

this was not normal, even beyond éile’s standards of ❛not normal❜. 

This would never happen if Old Man Kitchner was back home on the ranch. Despite being twenty-six and very capably leading her own life, Alison would rather drop dead than allow her grandfather to catch her in such a shameful state. Well, shameful come morning as right now she couldn’t be more proud of herself. The journalist from the city should not have been underestimated just because she was an out of towner - she had country roots after all and she proved to those boys that she could round up drinks and knock ‘em back just as good as they could. But now she had a bit of a problem - how was she going to get home? 

Alison may have been drunk but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t about to drive back to the ranch in her condition, not that she drove into town to begin with but the ones she did get a ride from were also shit faced, probably just as much as her if not more. Though she staggered about and she spoke with a slur in her voice, Alison managed to ask one of the other party guests who hadn’t been drinking to dial up a number on her phone, the only number she could call. 

@contrarymuses 

“Hey, Lily-Lucy, why don’t you go see what the other kids are doing? It looks like they’re having fun. I’m gonna go talk to your teacher.” Hour fixed the hair pin in her daughter’s hair and then directed her to the group of other students with a gentle hand. “I’ll find you before I leave, but Mommy has to go to work still. okay?” At the bright nod from Lucile, Hour straightened up and adjusted her jacket, eyes scanning the room. 

Teaming up with another department wasn’t out of the ordinary, whether cases crossed over or not - sometimes lending a helping hand and a fresh pair of eyes could good for an investigation - never hurt to get a second opinion as the Chief always said. It wasn’t so much being involved in another department’s investigation that bothered her, though, it was what she was assigned to do rather that tested her patience. 

The murder of a young girl, early twenties, had been brought to homicide’s attention and the case was given to Kimberly to lead. But when it was discovered that the victim was a missing persons suspected to be involved in a sex trafficking ring, the sex crimes unit had to be called in to participate. And it was here that Kimberly met her new partner. 

As said, it wasn’t a big deal for a temporary merge to happen, so why was it to the detective one might wonder? Well, that was just who she was honestly. Kimberly was a creature of habit and not a fan of change at all. It took nearly two and a half years for her to consider her current partner in homicide as a colleague, let alone a friend (mind you, having been forced to work with another person when your first partner and mentor’s death was still fresh in your mind didn’t help matters at the time). It was nothing against the detective himself, she just didn’t like working with someone new; she’d put up with it of course, but that didn’t mean it pleased her.

After dropping her boys off at school and grabbing herself a much needed extra-large black coffee (sugar on the side just in case), Kimberly drove down to the station to meet with Detective Matthews to run through any possible leads his unit might have come across since their last brief encounter. Along the way, she repeated a mantra to herself, a method of calming her nerves and taming the annoyance the situation brought with her. It went as followed:

“Play nice. It’s not his fault you’re stuck with him. Don’t stress out. You'll be fine.” 

Ha...there was that word again: fine. Oh, how it was her favorite lie.