Bellarke Sex Oneshots

10 // Detective Griffin (AU)

Bellamy frowned at the murder scene, where dozens of people had seen the last moments of their lives. Tragic, yes. But really, there was nothing he could do anymore than to bring justice.

Bellamy Blake, was a rather famous detective of LA, and he was well known and recognized. He was known for working alone, and catching the bad guys was his job, alone.

The key word here was alone. Bellamy was a solo bird and he liked it that way, where he didn't feel threatened by anyone else taking over his case. He would get down to the bottom of this.

The criminal, which was a male by witnesses, was going to be caught, and Bellamy was going to ensure that he was. This massacre was his doing, and he consoled the mourning families of those who died.

"It's okay, Mrs Winters, I will ensure the justice of your son. The guy responsible will pay for this," promised Bellamy.

Mrs Winters sobbed uncontrollably. The shooting of her son Ryan had made her impossible to quiet, and she wouldn't leave either, not matter how much Bellamy insisted she leave and get some rest.

"Detective Blake," called out his boss and officer in charge of the investigation. Officer Serene examined the mass of dead bodies. "We trust you will catch this criminal?"

"Certainly Officer," replied Bellamy.

The massacre had taken place at the top of an expensive penthouse where a party was happening, filled with famous people. Someone obviously wanted them dead. This was the most influential mass murder performed, as it saw the death of many famous actors and actresses. Producers and directors. Singers and songwriters.

It was plastered all over the news, and if it's on TV, the viewers bought it.

Bellamy had to be quick and witty about it, the police force were relying on him. He wanted to prove that hiring him for the most important case in LA was a good choice.

He was good at keeping the media attention to a bay. That's what the police force liked about him. He was also hired for private cases as well. Bellamy could sniff out a rat when he knew one was lurking. Or even when he didn't.

Jasper, his side man, who sometimes backed him up, came up behind him. "Bellamy," he said quickly. His eyes were darting from direction to direction.

Eyes darting shows he's nervous, someone is here that shouldn't be perhaps? Probably a news reporter judging by the pace he's walking, which is fast meaning it's urgent. Must've taken photos, Bellamy analyzed promptly.

"A news reporter managed to break into the crime scene and get photos of confidential content?" Bellamy guessed.

"How the hell did you know?"

"I'm a detective for goodness sake. I could tell from your body language."

"Smart."

Bellamy did a slight bow.

"But we have to get the reporter out," Jasper asked.

Bellamy stood there and stared at him for a few seconds, then rested his hand on Jasper's shoulder. "I'll leave that to you to do. I've got bigger fish to fry."

He picked up a bullet. "Revolver. Beretta Stampede." Bellamy examined the bullet that had been found lodged in a table. "Shot long range?"

"Face to face actually, forty five degree angle which shows that the victim was on the ground, probably threatened or hiding underneath the table due to the low level angle," a voice behind him continued, "handiwork of Talon Desmond, a fugitive that has recently escaped San Francisco jail."