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jemej3m · 4 years

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For the mobster/cop au more interactions between Neil and the rest of the foxes. It could be when they already know he's Andrews husband or when they haven't found out yet Btw, your fics are amazing, thank you!!

okay here’s a real short one but i loved this so here u go:

(tw: descriptions of murdered prostitutes)

Dan slowly put her head in her hands, staring at the three photographs in front of her. This had been tormenting her for days already - it was beyond ridiculous at this point. Matt insisted that someone else should take the case, but Dan just couldn’t let that happen.

Before she’d gone to college, and then the police academy, Dan had worked at a club on the edge of the city. The nightclub was probably one of the seediest Dan had ever investigated (she’d pulled it to shreds when she finally became a detective, mostly out of spite) and sometimes she laid awake at night, wondering how on earth she made it out alive. She’d grabbed a fake ID in high school to work there, having felt like she was out of other options.

This case hit a little too close to home.

She was black, her hair matted and bloodied. Her face had become so bloated with death and violence that she was hardly recognisable, but what was even more horrid was the state in which she was found. It was in the middle of a parking lot - she’d been moved there postmortem - splayed on her front with her legs spread, her dress in tatters. Across her lower back were three X’s, two healed, one fresh. She’d been strangled to death.

There were no prints. No weapon. No fluids. No cameras, no witnesses, even the person who’d called 911 had ducked and run. Dan hated it when bodies were found outside of the scene of death: it made the case that much harder, and removed them from their context. She owed it to this poor girl, who was still wearing one of her clear dancing heels, to find out who had done this to her.

With another aggravated sigh, she leant back in her chair and pressed the heels of her hands into her eye-sockets. She needed a coffee. She needed to go home and pick Hannah up from school to make sure she was safe and watch Bridget Jones’ Baby together with Chinese takeout and have Matt braid her hair whilst Hannah painted her nails.

A small scuffle to her left was enough to drag her attention away from the abysmally small file. Across the room, Andrew was leaning back in his chair, a new figure leaning against his desk. Dan watched as Neil handed Andrew a brown paper bag - his lunch - and smile at whatever remark Andrew made.

“How the hell did he get in here?” Dan inquired, exhausted. Matt looked up from his desk and grinned: he’d come to rather enjoy Neil’s company, in spite of the fact that Neil was definitely a seasoned murderer and letting him go was against everything they’d ever learned about corruption and loyalty.

Though, Dan thought, watching Matt clap Neil on the back. Their height differences were rather amusing.

“No personal crap in the bullpen, Andrew,” Kevin groused, glaring at Neil. He still wasn’t over it. He probably would never be over it.

“Did you just call me personal crap?” Neil echoed. At Kevin’s narrowed eyes, he held up his hands in surrender. “I was just heading out anyway. Just dropping off lunch.” He shook Matt’s hand goodbye, saluted Wymack good day and chanced a kiss to the crown of Andrew’s head, very narrowly avoiding his husband’s swatting. He shoved his pockets and walked animatedly down the desk aisle.

His gaze drifted over to Dan’s desk, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Not again.”

Dan’s instinctive reaction was to cover up the photos. Instead, she swivelled her chair to face him, eyebrow arched.

Neil came closer, leaning against the desk to look at the photos. He made a scathing noise and shook his head. “I don’t understand why Striker thinks that’ll work.”

“Who?” Dan demanded.

Neil gave her an odd look. “Striker? I mean, I’m not sure of his real name, but he earned the nickname with the ‘three strikes and you’re out’ policy for his girls. Runs the Catamounts Club.”

“So this has happened before,” Dan managed, fingertips brushing over the photo.

Neil shrugged. “Usually the bodies are shown off to the girls to scare them, and then obliterated from existence. It’s not like prostitutes are ever put down as missing persons, so he’s never been caught.” Neil leaned over the desk to look at the photographs. “Seems like someone finally wants to do something about it.”

“Catamounts Club,” Dan repeated. “Striker. Repeat offender. You think he’d keep trophies? Some way to track the number of girls he’s murdered?”

“She’s only got one shoe,” Neil affirmed. “He keeps the other hanging up on a string of lights above the booze shelves behind the bar. Though with a body found, he would have taken them down. He won’t throw them out, though. They’re reminders for the girls to behave.”

For a moment, Dan just stared. It took a little while for her to process all Neil was saying - which was a lot. It was a lot. Abruptly, she stood up, snatching the photographs and holding them to her chest.

“You know,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Letting you walk goes against our oaths as a police force. I should lock you up in max security and never let you see the light of day again.” Her breath shuddered. “But - if you can give us information like that - whenever we ask - I’ll be willing to put it aside.”

Neil gave her a quizzical look. “I’ve been informing your cases for years. How else would I have convinced Andrew to marry me?”

Dan had to grin at her colleague. “How did you manage to wrestle him into a ring?”

Neil snorted. “I said that I could be his CI forever. He wasn’t amused. Anyway - yes, Wilds, I will help you out, to keep my ass out of jail. If that’s what it takes.” He gave her a little wave, leaning off her desk and walking towards the exit.

Dan glanced to Andrew, who was still glaring at the elevator, long after his husband had left. She shook her head and sat down, switching on her computer monitor.

She had the Catamounts to bust.

hey psst neil’s a hopeless romantic pass it on

#mobster/cop au #andreil #married #andrew minyard #neil josten #dan wilds #butcher!neil #cop!andrew #cop!foxes #i luv dan #all for the game #aftg #murder investigations!#jem writes

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pizzamaximoff · 7 years

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The Sketch Artist’s Obsession (Jerome Valeska x Artist! Reader)

Here’s a request for @avengers-and-jedis , I’m so sorry its late I've been bogged down with a bunch of school work and assessments AND Inktober. Again I’m so sorry I didn't get it done earlier but damn I’m tired af. I’ve had to change up a little of the canon storyline just to do this how I wanted to. Just adding in some lil bits to add to the case to fit in with the reader being an artist. BTW they sent me some hella good art of Jerome and it kinda inspired parts of this.

Word count: 2,701

Working in the Gotham City Police department had its ups and downs. Sure it was dark and generally solum with petty criminals being filed in everyday and new cases being raised and brought to attention. That was something Gotham was never short of: crime. Yet with all the misery brought in you can’t help but find it thrilling, even though you were the lead sketch artist you still end up working with the main department, often being present for various interrogations.

It was a a cold day when you first met Jerome Valeska. A light snow covered the city but the office was warm with life, yet it wasn’t a reassuring warmth. More like that of raging fire. Full of anger. Making your way from the break room to your quaint little office you stopped in your track in shock at your surroundings. The department was heaving: an entire circus was literally brought in, their brightly coloured costumes contrasting against the dark office area. Your mouth was slightly ajar, shocked at the odd scene you were witnessing. Detectives and officers kept two groups of the circus workers apart. One clearly being clowns, their makeup heavy and costumes absurd. Judging from the tight spandex of the other groups you made an educated guess that they were acrobats. It was obvious their was some form of family feud going on here. The absurdity of the whole situation made you laugh quietly to yourself. You were about to move to your tiny office when you heard your name being called out amongst the babble of angry performers. You turned to see Detective Gordon waving you over, his face dark and brooding as usual. You weaved in an out of the various people clogging up the department to reach him, letting out a sigh once you emerged from the mass.

“What is it Jim?” You asked. He smiled lightly at you, the dark mood in his features lifting for a moment. You had always been the department baby, being the youngest there, he had a soft spot for you. “Just as a precaution, I might need you, the victim’s son said he saw a strange individual around the circus but has no idea who he is. An outsider” He spoke giving you a small pat on the shoulder before leading you into the small office. You rolled your eyes at this, instantly certain that your witness wouldn't be able to give you much to go on. It wouldn't be the first time. Placing your work sketchbook and pencil set on the desk you took a seat next to Jim. Looking up you finally noticed the boy in the room. His fiery red hair was parted and swept to the side neatly. Slight sniffles, the lasting remnants of tears, shook his body in every few moments. Your initial distaste was dropped in an instant as sympathy for the boy filled you. He wasn't much younger than you by the looks of it and you instantly felt terrible for him, if you were in his position you wouldn't be much different. “Hi Jerome, we just need to ask you a few questions to help us find out whoever murdered your mother” Jim spoke sincerely with a gentle but forced smile on his face. Jerome, as you now learnt, looked up from the desk. His sea green eyes were glazed over with tears threatening to spill, his nose and cheeks were a soft pink making him look delicate and vulnerable as ever. He quickly wiped his eyes before muttering a quiet ‘sure’. You couldn't help the small endearing smile you sent him as he glanced over to you. His lips twitching ever so slightly in a shy manner. Jim began to ask him questions and Jerome answered, clear and precisely. You listened intently but as you did so you were unequivocally aware of how pretty he was. Even in this state he was rather gorgeous. You managed to keep these views hidden, for your face was stoic. However it was when Jim asked him of his opinion on his mothers ‘love life’ you cracked. “Sex is a perfectly healthy and normal human activity, Detective” Usually you would be perfectly fine with this statement but with the lingering gaze he gave you and the faintest hint of a smirk you lost it. Your usually composed face was tinged with pink as you coughed lightly and fidgeted with the papers on the desk. As for Jim his eyes slightly widened before moving swiftly along. He asked of the unknown man and if Jerome had seen him before and where. This was your turn to step in. “As you said you got a clear view of this strange character, I’ll leave you with my colleague here to draw up a sketch of the man. With that it should be much easier to identify the suspects.” With a nod to you Jim exited the room leaving you and Jerome alone. You held your hand out to him with a smile. “Hi, I’m (Y/N), lead sketch artist at the precinct.” He softly held onto your hand and gave it a small shake. It was surprisingly warm, contrasting with the cold office. “We’re going to start with a general shape of the man and then move into the features. I’m going to need you to be as specific and with as much detail as possible so we can get the most accurate depiction, Is that okay?” You spoke as you opened the book to a fresh page, setting out your pencils. “That sounds good to me” He spoke, his voice seemed much more confident than before but you brushed it off as nothing, ready to begin the work.

Around half an hour later you were finished, the process being surprisingly easy and quick due to Jerome’s immense level of description of the man. You looked over the sketch, something about it seemed familiar but you couldn't place your finger on it. You passed the book to Jerome asking if it was correct. He let out a small noise of surprise before speaking. “Wow, that’s him, you managed to get it perfect…” He trailed up looking at you with awe. It was a heartwarming sight and you smiled brightly in response. You simply looked at each other for a moment, it was strange but comfortable yet it ended as soon as it began. You shook your head slightly and stood. He passed the book to you gently as you spoke quietly. “I’m going to hand this to the detectives, hopefully they can catch the guy who did this.” He looked down again sadness seemingly washing over him again. You reached the door and as you were about to leave you stopped abruptly before turning to face him over your shoulder. “Oh and Jerome,” He looked up quickly, eager to hear what you had to say,” If you ever want to talk, my office is the fourth on the left. Feel free to drop in anytime, don’t bother knocking I would love to chat sometime” And with one last smile shared between the pair of you, you left.

You waited for Jim and Leslie to finish their conversation with a blind elderly gentlemen before walking to them, sketchbook in hand. Exchanging a quick greeting to Leslie you turned to Jim presenting the page of the potential suspect. “Jerome says this is what the unidentified man at the circus looked like. I feel like I recognise him but I can’t pinpoint it” You explain to him, it takes him a few seconds before his eyes widen and shock registers on his face. He jogs to a computer, yourself and Lee following confused and intrigued. He delves into some files and soon after a newspaper scanning is brought onto the screen. A missing person of interest. Deacon Blackfire, for suspicion of leading the infamous Hellfire club. You gasped shocked at the sight. “Do you think he killed Lila?” Lee questioned excitement at the revelation in her voice. Jim shook his head, skeptical. “No, it doesn't make sense, Blackfire hasn't been seen in a decade. Its highly unlikely he comes back just to kill a snake dancer-“ You cut him off speaking yourself. “I’m not sure Jim, Jerome was certain it was him. Blackfire has a memorable face, theres not many psychos like him. You’ve got to at least take a look into this, Jerome lost his mother at least give him closure” Jim sighed, you He was clearly unsure but with you and Lee both pestering him he promised to research into it the next day.

That night, you went home content. Hopeful in the crime being on its way to being solved. After entering your apartment and changing into something comfortable, you boiled the kettle and made a cup of chamomile. Popping the mug on the side table you then not-so-gracefully threw yourself into your armchair, pulling the throw over yourself. You reached for your personal sketchbook ready to express your emotions on the pages. Sharpened pencil in hand you began to draw, built up stresses leaving your body as the graphite dragged on the page. Clowns, acrobats and various characters danced around the edges of the page, you weren't concentrating on the specific subject of your drawings, just eager to create. Once the pages had been filled you placed the book on your lap content with your work. As you looked you halted, there in the centre of the many doodles was a sketch of Jerome. Your palm met your face and a hopeless sigh left your mouth. How did you not even realise you were drawing him? You had been with him for maximum an hour yet he he was forever in your book as a drawing. It came naturally to you, maybe it was his pretty face or gentle sweet nature that was hiding something beneath. Oh wouldn't you like to know what was lurking behind the piercing green eyes. You closed the book and placed it back on the side table. After finishing your tea you prepared for bed for it was late and you were already exhausted. You began to drifted into the realm of sleep, just before you passed over you could distantly hear the buzzing of your phone. Someone was calling you but you ignored it already too far gone. Whatever it was could wait till tomorrow.

You rushed into the precinct a hot mess. Hair was messy and clothes thrown together rather unprofessionally. You had slept in: kept in a blissful dream with a certain ginger. You stuck to the walls, not too keen on being scolded by Captain Essen for being late. You passed Harvey who gave you a quick look over before grinning. “Damn Kid, you look like you just came back from the dead. What happened?” Well at least someone was finding this funny. You rolled your eyes and gave a gruff response. “Slept in” before pushing past, deperately trying to ignore his loud laughter. You loved Harvey, he was a great guy, but damn was he annoying. You walked into your office and not paying attention to your office you walked straight into Jim. You apologised quickly and walked to the desk, not bothering to ask why he was in here. “We solved the case.” He spoke, you pricked up at this, however the dark expression on his face caused your stomach to churn. Did something bad happen, was Jerome hurt? “It wasn't Blackfire who killed Lila Valeska.” He walled towards you a brown case file in hand. Your head tilted in confusion. If not Blackfire than who? They had managed to solve it in the night so it can't have been too obscure a suspect. “It was Jerome.” With that he chucked the file on your desk. The mugshot spilling out. With shaking hands you lifted the photo, gasping in horror and shock. A manic smile twisted his features, this was not the same boy you met in that dark office. You look up at Jim, eyes wide. He held no emotion in his as he continued speaking. “He’s been sent to Arkham, the boy’s insane.” With no more words he left. Leaving you in your shock as you continued to stare at the photo in hand.

Months passed but you still thought of him. You knew it was wrong: he was criminally insane, the boy committed matricide! Yet the attraction never left. He found his way into pages upon pages of your books, getting to the point where you were drawing him at work and hiding from your colleagues. ‘It’s harmless’ you would tell yourself, just a school girl crush. He was locked away so its not like it would blossom into anything. A slightly odd obsession, yes but it would cause no issue. This was the case until you were all called into the main area of the department. A breakout in Arkham, a group of so called ‘Maniax’ were formed, causing chaos in Gotham. There he was. That insane grin, the shocking eyes and fire like hair. Jerome was out of Arkham. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Slipping away from the gathering of workers. Your breathing had quickened. Both fear and excitement coursing through your veins. He was out. You knew he was dangerous, yet the ‘love’ grew inside you.

Gunshots, screams, yells of agony and insane laughter. You hid under your desk shaking like an autumnal leaf. The precinct was being massacred. There was nothing you could do to protect yourself, your job didn't permit you to carry a weapon nor have you ever needed one. The best chance you had of survival was under the dark oak of the desk. Luckily it covered all view of you from the door, but it was an obvious hiding place. Your heart was thumping in your ears and breath shallow. The door slammed open, almost being knocked straight off it’s hinges. Footsteps entered and the door was slammed shut again. Contrary to before your heart seemed to stop as the voice filled your mind. “(Y/N)! I’m back, you did say not to knock!” It was Jerome, his voice dipping with the confidence that you had only imagined you heard before. So that was the real him. “Although you might have to pay for that, does the insurance cover it?” a sickening cake bounced of the walls. It was deranged but in no way did you hate it. You were simply too shocked to respond, frozen in your state of disbelief. His steps got closer, the thin wood of the desk being the only thing separating you from his sight and him from yours. The sound of paper and pages being turned, were all to be heard. He was silent, absorbed in the work. “Well it seems like I have quite the admirer” he chuckled, it was low and raspy, incredibly attractive. A blush filled your face as you began to feel faint. Still without reply he continued. “You”re as good as I remember, although I did prefer your pretty face to your amazing skills” His voice got closer; he was walking around the desk. His legs came into view. “I have to say (Y/N), this conversation is feeling rather one-sided,” he down to your level, his green eyes met your own (e/c) ones. “And I do remember you stating you’d love to chat.” That manic grin stretched onto his pale skin, which was stained with blood, you were unsure if it was his or another’s. At that moment you didn't care, a bright smile made its way onto your face. Shock flashed in his eyes for a short second. You spoke up for the first time. “I missed you, Jerome”. “Well Princess let’s get out of here” Pulling you out from the hiding spot he laughed again and you count help but join in with him. Deep in your head there was a voice, nagging at you to run, to stop this madness and ignore this obsession, but it was too late. You were already in the grasp of Jerome Valeska.

Sorry if its crap I'm having a shit life atm guys but I’ll try to post more often!!

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