hii if you are taking requests,, a confident detective x mute/(semimute) villain,, like if they’re interrogating and villains likes 🙃
directions it takes up to you..
- if you don’t still know that am appreciating your writing a lot !! :D
Awwww, this could be... cute?
Language Barrier
Detective placed their neatly organized files onto the interrogation table with a dull 'thwap'. Pulling a chair out and seating themselves, Villain compared them idly to their files. Both of them dressed in a dark navy blue, with white--maybe beige--underneath.
"Villain, you are being detained under investigative motive for the murder of... Civilian." The detectives' eyes flicked from fixing their cufflinks to the criminal. "Is that correct?"
The villain couldn't help their smirk, but their demeanour didn't change otherwise. They noticed the cursive handwriting on the folder matched the detective's name tag, careful and tidy, just like every other aspect of them.
Upon the stretching silence the detective sighed, pulling their folder close before opening its pages to the villain's keen eyes. Villain found it almost intimate, but they often read into things too much. It was awfully easy when one was constantly stuck in their own head, mulling things over again and again.
Smoothly, the detective slid a large printed photo towards the villain, facing it towards them as they spoke. "This is you, correct?" The image was blurry, taken from a security camera Villain figured. "On the night of the fifth?"
The one in question didn't even bother to open their mouth nor communicate. Truthfully, the one in the footage was them, but purely by incident of 'right place, wrong time'. They had left by the backdoor only minutes later after realizing their error... The backdoor that had no camera to prove it.
This was going to be a shit-show no matter how they decided to deal with it, they may as well have a little fun.
"A simple yes or no will do the trick." The detective deadpanned, expression falling flat as they were losing their patience.
Villain grinned, shrugging as they leaned back in their seat; they were beginning to grow fond of this detective.
The detective made a face, somewhat mocking, somewhat annoyance, before they retrieved the image and shuffled through what seemed to be the next part of their discoveries. "You know your rights?" Holding a text document in hand they looked back up to the villain. "Or you just like being a pain in my ass?" They frowned, putting the document back as they continued their search.
Evidently, the villain said nothing. Tapping their fingers against their lap in boredom as they waited for the other to find what they needed to 'crack' the villain.
"Aha!" The detective blurted, jumping just a little bit off their seat due to their uncontrolled excitement.
Cute.
Villain would definitely have to come back sometime later, or break into their apartment. Either one would do.
Before the villain could blink a paper was shoved into their face. It was an image of text messages, ones off their personal phone which they had kept as private as possible. Apparently not to the detective.
"Proof. That you were the last person in contact with the victim and your conversation is practically a confession." The detective waved their arms around a little while the villain studied the messages, sure they were off their personal phone, but they weren't theirs. They didn't even know the victim, let alone have text arguments with them.
The criminal's mouth hung open, reading over and over the words in bubbles across the paper. Triple checking the number at the top to make sure it wasn't theirs...
Seven-Nine-One Three-Two-Nine Five-Five-Eight-Seven
It was theirs alright.
"Got ya." The detective peered over the print, a smug smile on their moisturized face, giving it a sheen and a soft smell of coconuts. With two hands on the table they leaned forwards even more. "Still speechless? Or have you got something to say now that you've been caught?"
Villain lowered the image back to the table, noses practically touching between the two of them when there was no barrier left. Deftly they swiped the prestigious looking pen from the detective's pocket, flipping the text picture over onto its face as they began to write, ignoring the yelp from the other.
'For someone as thorough as yourself, you still managed to miss the most important detail in your case.'
After twenty-four hours had passed the villain had been released due to insufficient evidence. With the detective unable to get them to 'talk' and the villain refusing to elaborate further, the officers had no choice.
Two days later, when the villain couldn't help themselves anymore, they were one foot through the window of the detectives' house when their eyes caught on the silhouette in the corner. Hunched over a book, mumbling incoherently to themselves and squinting against the light of their computer screen, Villain's heart pounded in their ears when they realized the detective was learning sign language.
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engie and soldier fic where they roadtrip across america instead of talking about their feelings.
The truck is small but its okay, their arms stick together as they fight for space on the center seat. Dell keeps his eyes on the road, laughing as Soldier loudly sings to the radio. The stink of motor oil and sweat, theyre baking in the southern sun. They could drive for days, endless expanses of flat red desert, never tire of each others company.
Tonight, camping under the stars in the back of the truck, they'll love, red faced and dizzy, like they were the only two left on earth.
In the morning, before the break of the sun, they'll be gone, the ghosts of their pasts hot on their tails as they run from New Mexico.
And lord, Montana is cold. Ghost towns, booney, cardboard houses that shut Soldier up for the first time since they set out. Come Scobey, to stretch their legs, wild eyes watch them from broken blinds. animals occupy this land, the sort Sol' hails from; freak and brute, the rough-handed type, he calls 'em.
Dell's back in the car before he registers getting out of it in the first place, a bottle shoved in his hands when he protests, "need'a piss."
"Tavish moved to Canada," Soldier says over fire. Idaho proves unforgiving, and they're close enough together for Engie to see the cagey look in his eyes.
"Yeah?" he prompts, rising Soldier from his two day silent spell.
"Makes sense. Canada..America, just without the America."
It doesnt make sense. Dell reads between the lines.
"That where y'wunna go? Canada?"
Soldier slumps against his shoulder, pokes the embers.
It keeps Engie awake, trapped beneath Soldiers sleep-heavy body. A far cry from the sunny, cow wrangling ranch he grew up on. Far cry from the weight of the Conagher name. Mann Co. Her.
Yet still, when his thoughts drive him to sleep, and Soldiers' loud ass wakes him, he gets back in that drivers seat and heads straight for the border like it was the only thing he knew how to do.
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