#i watched the last episode of the sign last night and lemme just say

[fallish]

ive never looked at person and was like “yeah my brain is no longer functioning anymore” but uh. babe? yeah no babe is gorgeous. like ive never looked at a person and been like “wow” at them before. but babe is literally, breath stolen, maybe the most gorgeous person ive seen in my life???

[pippin-katz]

Ooooo I’m in the minority for picking “Merlin with Arthur”

Lemme explain my reasoning:

Arthur definitely fell in love with Merlin right before or during 1x04 because duh, did you watch the episode?

But I think Merlin fell in love faster because he was already showing love signs by 1x02. The way he smiles when Arthur says he believes him is precious.

He seems a combination of surprised, impressed, and affectionate; he probably expected Arthur to brush him off but he didn’t. I think it’s the first time Merlin sees the “good person” in him; the prince who has no reason to listen to him or hold his words at any value actually believes him.

Merlin is also already willing to risk exposing himself to save Arthur. He tries his hardest to convince him not to fight, even after Arthur yelled at him, because he believes he’ll die.

Then he spends the entire night learning that spell, literally not sleeping. Once he gets it, he sprints down to the dueling pitch and uses it.

Boy if you don't put your damn hand down. You weren't pointing at the dog when you successfully casted the first time, you had your eyes freaking closed!!

Literally anyone could've seen this shit, and he would've been screwed.

I do think that Arthur started falling in love here too, but was far too busy with his daddy issues to truly fall in love until 1x04. I think these GIFs kinda sum it up pretty well:

Merlin insults a fucking knight right in front of him:

Arthur genuinely fucking laughs despite that pretty much being a crime:

Merlin sees him laugh and smiles, which makes Arthur immediately go back to "prince talking to peasant" mode:

Everything about Arthur's body and facial language in the last GIF screams: "Shit, he caught me laughing at him and he's smiling at me, quick, pretend like you don't care."

And I am serious about him being busy with daddy issues this episode. Uther pretty much called his own son a liar and a coward in front of the royal court. Arthur's definitely hurt and upset by it, because his own father didn't trust him, and actually believed that he would make up an accusation of magic to get out of a duel.

I think they were definitely both in love by The Poisoned Chalice. That whole episode makes so damn sense when you try to ignore all the implications.

Merlin drinks what he knows is poison just to stop Arthur from drinking it. I honestly don't know what his plan was, because he knew he was going to either get sick or literally die from whatever kind of poison was in there. Did expect Gaius to be able to cure him? Or did he straight up not care if he died, just because Arthur lived? Given that he tells Arthur to leave the flower behind when he's in the cave, I'm thinking it was the latter.

Arthur goes on a suicide mission by himself to get the cure. When he finds out from Gaius that the only way to save Merlin is to get the flower, he immediately chooses to do it, but I think what's interesting is the scene after this where he's arguing with Uther about it. He says "Let me take some men", implying that he wasn't going to go alone. Having knights with him pretty much would've guaranteed he would survive, but obviously Uther says no. He decides to go anyway, and by himself.

What was his plan? Go and get the flower or die trying? And he would have died if Merlin hadn't been able to help him with his magic! Despite being that close to dying himself, he still gets the flower before escaping.

This is the kind of dedication to another person that is used in canon couples of every genre. They haven't known each other that long at this point. At the most generous estimate, maybe a month. Episode two takes place the day after the first because it's Merlin's first day as his servant. Between episodes two and four, it's probably been a few weeks. That is not a long time to know someone, and yet these two are legitimately okay with risking their lives for one another.

This post ended up going for way longer than I meant it to. To summarize: Merlin fell first, Arthur fell harder. Thank you for reading!

[scripts4dreamers]

I literally JUST sat down, pt. 1

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: Nuh uh, nope. Not this again. You did not sign up for this.  Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol, eventual NSFW content

Prompt: After watching 7x07 “This episode is so scary man... Imagine just doing your job which is pretty morbid at times but oh well and then suddenly you have to go to this place where there's a lot of tornadoes and you're like well at least I'm inside and safe and then your boss is like "we gotta go right to these tornado places lol" and then you think "well that's scary but at least we have this handy dandy live map showing us exactly in real time where the tornadoes are so we'll be fine and then the internet is like "haha nope have fun dying in a tornado" 

- @pirateismywayofspeaking​ who is a literal genius.

This will be a multichapter piece! So lemme know if you want to be tagged in subsequent chapters. 

—————————-

Usually, when terrible things happen, people say the same few things: “I never thought it would happen to me! You never think something like this will happen to you until it does!”. You’d never really been that type of person. You were naturally cautious, and an ex FBI agent, you saw danger pretty much everywhere. You’d seen some of the worst things human beings could ever do to one another and, if you’d learned anything at all, it was that bad things happened everywhere and to pretty much everyone. There was nowhere that you could definitively say was safe from violent crime, but this was just ridiculous.

You looked around the ruined bookshop you’d poured the last year of your life into with a kind of detached sadness. Even before you opened the door, you could see the carnage. The shelves were upended, tables flipped, every vase in the building was smashed...except one. You sighed, stepping into the store, your eyes scanning the wreck with a practiced efficiency. No broken windows, the door was still locked when you’d arrived and your security cameras were blacked out, there were no signs of forced entry. If anything that made you more uneasy and, not for the first time since you’d left the bureau, you missed the weight of your gun against your hip. You crinkled your nose against the smell, the copper-iron of fresh blood that you were all too familiar with as you crept through your store.

“Son of a-fuck!” You swore loudly, cursing your luck as you took in the scene.

There was a body laid out in the middle of the Fiction aisle: face covered with a burlap sack, wrists and ankles bound with rope and blood seeping into the carpets you’d just had cleaned. Your training kicked in and you noticed, without meaning to, that the rest of the aisle was untouched. The shelves were upright, books in order, even the vase of white roses you’d put there the night before were all completely the way you’d left them. It was like he’d just completely bypassed the entire section.

Huh.

You looked up at the sky, “Really? Right now? You throw this at me, now? Unbelievable.”

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your chest, along with a nervousness that you were telling yourself was irritation as you pulled out your phone. It had been a long while since you’d done this, but you still knew the number by heart.

“This is agent Jareau with the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“JJ, it’s me,” you said, “you’re not gonna believe this.”

——————————

You sat in the ruins of your store until the cops arrived, wondering who exactly you had murdered in a past life to end up with this kind of luck. You gave your statement without much incident, directing CSU to the body and alerting the detective to the abnormalities you’d spotted.

JJ had promised to get the team on the case as quickly as she could, and you knew JJ tended to get exactly what she wanted in that regard, you just didn’t know how you felt about that. It had been over a year since you’d left the BAU, since you’d done one case too many and just got fed all the way up. It really wasn’t any deeper than that. One day you’d come home and found that you couldn’t sleep. It had all just become too much, so you packed up your stuff, tendered your resignation, and started over.

It had been hard at first, but now you owned a fairly successful bookstore with a little coffee shop where you sold good coffee, and homemade biscuits. And it was nice. You felt good, kinda. You definitely slept better at night. Your life was finally starting to feel normal and now this? A dead body just happens to appear in the center of your bookstore in just weird enough a way to warrant a call to the BAU? No, you’d seen too much to consider this a coincidence. Whether you liked it or not, you were about to get thrown back into your old life head first, the life you’d worked so hard to get some distance from. So why weren’t you more...upset?

“Y/L/N?” A familiar voice called.

“In here,” you answered, your voice raspy from disuse. You cleared your throat and pushed yourself up onto your feet, “I’m in here.” You tried again.

The figures who stepped in were painfully familiar and you couldn’t help the tired smile that slid onto your face, your eyes going directly to the blonde woman walking at the very front.

“Y/N!” She greeted, her voice dripping with relief as she pulled you into a hug, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, JJ,” you assured her as you broke apart, the rest of your old team filing in behind her.

She eyed you like she wasn’t sure, pressing her lips into a thin line as she looked around the trashed store. Derek Morgan swooped in behind her, giving you a second hug.

“Long time, Y/L/N,” he smiled.

You sighed, “Wish it was under better circumstances, Morgs, but I’m glad you guys are here.”

“Y/L/N,” Aaron Hotchner greeted, giving you a firm handshake.

“Thanks for coming, Hotch, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” You admitted.

“No, you made the right call. The BAU has officially taken on the case. Reid, Prentiss and Rossi are coordinating with the local PD from our headquarters, the rest of us are here to help,” he said, pausing and meeting your eye, silently asking the question you’d been waiting all morning for.

“No sign of forced entry,” you started, “the front door was still locked from the outside when I arrived.” You walked him through the crime scene, glass crunching beneath your feet as you went, “It looks like someone sprayed black paint over the security cameras I had installed, everything’s been smashed but there’s no cash missing from the register. In fact, they barely touched the front desk at all.” You explained, “And this,” you gestured at the Fiction aisle, “is where I found the body.”

Morgan stepped forward and, just like that, the team moved like a well oiled machine.

“White male, looks like he’s between the ages of 19 and 27.” Morgan started.

“His wrists and ankles are bound, but it doesn’t look like he struggled against his restraints at all,” you cut in, without meaning to, crouching down beside the body, “it could mean he was tied up postmortem.”

“We’ll have to wait on the M.E’s report to know for sure,” Hotch agreed, “Y/L/N, can I talk to you?” You nodded and let him pull you aside. He glanced over your shoulder and lowered his voice, “I know you’re out and we can do this investigation without you-“

“But?” You probed.

The corners of Hotch’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile, “But, I would also welcome your help if you’re willing to give it. The team is still a man down and, something about this scene has me thinking-“

“That whoever did this isn’t finished,” you agreed, sighing as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Everything was so messed up in your head. You just wanted to go back to bed and start this day all over again. Hotch looked at you and you recognized his brand of quiet concern. It was familiar and comforting, and it helped you process your thoughts.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you frowned, “yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll come back.” Hotch smiled and you wagged a finger at him, “But just for this one case! After that I’m straight back to my boring normal person life, alright?”

“Of course,” he agreed, something almost mocking in his tone.

“I’m serious, Hotch, just one more case.”

“I’m agreeing with you!” He insisted, already walking back to the rest of the group.

But he wasn’t and, much to your chagrin, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as you turned back to the scene of the crime.

“Hotch, Y/L/N,” Morgan called, holding something in his gloved hand, “you’re gonna want to see this.”

“Here we go again,” you sighed.

————————-

Walking back into the BAU had felt like stepping back in time. After you’d gotten everything you could from the crime scene there was nothing to do but brainstorm, but walking through those doors again...well, let’s say you hadn’t been prepared for how it would feel being back. For the most part, everyone had been glad to see you, especially Garcia, but you could tell that there were still some resentments bubbling under the surface. It made sense, the BAU survived by relying on one another, by acting like a family, and you’d left that family.

Still, there was a rhythm to this kind of work, a flow that was almost painfully easy to fall back into. You’d worked together for years after all, bouncing ideas off of one another like it was nothing and that kind of bond didn’t just go away.

“Admit it,” Derek teased, bumping your shoulder with his as you studied the evidence board, “you missed this.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Oh you so did,” Spencer agreed, leaning against the table next to you and giving you a fond smile, “I’m sorry about the bookstore though, it was the only store in town with a proper selection of classics in their original languages.”

You shrugged, “I’ll get it up and running again soon enough, just as soon as we catch whoever did this.”

“Speaking of our UnSub, what do you think the relevance of him leaving the body in the fiction section is?” Spencer asked.

“Maybe he’s trying to say that this is some kind of fairytale?” Prentiss suggested, “Like he’s trying to draw us into his story?”

“Maybe, but this has gotta be more personal than that, right?” Morgan said, “I mean, this isn’t some body in an alley, it was dumped in an FBI agent’s coffee shop.”

“Ex agent,” you corrected.

“Sure thing, Princess,” Morgan teased.

“Why does everyone keep talking like that?” You asked.

“Because you leaving is ridiculous. You love this job,” He replied simply, “you’ve always loved this job.”

You opened your mouth to respond but, before you could, you heard the clacking of heels against the marble floor.

“Um, guys?” Garcia said, coming into the bullpen with a stormy look on her face, “we just got word from the officer who went to Y/N’s apartment.”

“And?” You asked nervously.

“They found something,”

“Another body?” Prentiss asked.

“No, weirder, a letter and what looks like a smiley face drawn on the wall in blood.” She said, pressing a button to display the new crime scene photos on the big screen.

Your heart froze in your chest.

There it was; a crude smiley face drawn right above your headboard and a crisp white envelope resting against your pillow. He’d made your bed too, some small part of your mind noted. How polite. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest as you were hit with a mixture of panic and disgust.

“Of course,” you sighed, “of course there is. Why wouldn’t there be? It’s been that kind of day.”

“Do we know what the letter says?” Morgan asked.

Garcia nodded, “And it’s a doozy. The letter contains a poem written with letters cut out from magazines and newspapers. It reads:

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;

And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain …”

You could feel your friends staring and you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and you could hear the blood pounding in your ears as you thought of a murderer setting foot in your space; him touching your bed, running his hands over the photos on your nightstand, defiling your possessions with his presence. You’d never felt so vulnerable and exposed, and bile rose up in your stomach like your body was physically rejecting the whole thing. Distantly you heard Prentiss and Morgan discussing theories, and you felt one pair of warm brown eyes staring into the side of your head.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like joking around anymore.

“Sorry,” you muttered, standing up and striding out of the room without looking back, “I need some air.”

You were so angry by the time you made it out into the courtyard that you’d balled your hands into fists and your breath was coming out in short little bursts. Hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your chest felt painfully tight.

“Y/N?” You heard Spencer ask.

You sniffed, wiping your face quickly, “Reid, hi. Sorry, I just-“ you let out a slow breath, “I needed a break.”

He nodded like he understood, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stepped towards you. You wanted to tell him to go away, to head back inside and leave you the hell alone, but the words wouldn’t come.

It had always been like this with Spencer. No matter how hard you tried to be tough and brave and put together, he saw right through you and broke down your defenses. At one point, he’d been the closest thing to family you’d ever had, in fact you thought you might…..

Well, it didn’t matter now. Over the last year things had changed, you’d grown apart. It happened, but the fondness was still there, and the trust, and those damn eyes.

“I get it, Y/N, I can't even imagine what this whole thing must be like for you,” he said, “having your home be violated like that….and the store?” He shook his head, “I know how hard you worked setting that place up.”

Your bottom lip trembled and, for the first time that day, you let yourself feel afraid as tears slipped down your cheeks.

You shook your head, “You know, when I saw the glass all over the floor, and all the books….I just felt tired, like bone tired. I wasn’t scared of that, but now?” You paused, glancing up at Spencer, as a tear slid down your cheek, “He was in my home, Spencer. He made my bed before he left, he wrote me a letter.”

Spencer worked his jaw and hesitantly reached out, touching your shoulder gently.

“We’ll catch him, Y/N/N, we always do.” He promised.

“And until then?” You asked, “Do I just pretend it never happened? Go home and act like it’s all okay?”

“No,” another voice cut in from behind you, “you rely on us. We’ll take care of you,” Morgan explained.

“Yeah,” Garcia agreed, her big blue eyes clinging to yours, “We’ve talked about it already. You’ll take turns staying with each of us a few nights a week and then, on the weekends, we’ll all stay with Rossi to go over the case. And we’ll spend every free moment tracking this son of a bitch down for you.”

Emily nodded and, for the first time since you had opened your store that morning, you felt your chest swell with something a little like hope. You knew the BAU was special, you knew that the bonds you’d formed over the years were damn near unbreakable, but this? This was too much. Seeing your friends rally around you when you needed them most just reminded you how much you loved them, and how much they still loved you. Even now. Spencer gave your shoulder a squeeze and you smiled back at him.

“I really missed you guys,” you said with a watery laugh.

Penelope crooned and threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a familiarly bone-crushing hug.

“We missed you too, Sugar Plum,” she promised.

“Really?”

“Hell yeah!” Morgan smiled, joining Penelope’s hug.

“You know we did,” Emily agreed, ruffling your hair and pulling herself in close.

Your eyes found Spencer where he was standing just outside of the group hug, both hands in his pockets and a sad smile on his face. You pressed your lips together and, in response, he nodded.

“We missed you,” he said softly and then, as the hug broke up and you allude your way back inside, even softer, “we still do.”

---------------- 

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

[aalissy]

Videogames

Anddd new chapter doneee!! Lemme know what you guys think <3. It’s another reveal hehehe. My faveeee!! Also lemme know if you saw the new episode. I’d love to hear your thoughts!! It’s my new favorite of s4 and definitely in my top 3 favorite episodes haha!

AO3

Marinette pursed her lips as she tapped her foot against her floor impatiently. Chat was supposed to have been there an hour ago and she was getting restless. After checking the Ladyblog for the countless time that night, she determined that there was no akuma attack keeping him. Crossing her arms against her chest, she huffed, wishing that he would get to her house faster. They were supposed to have a video game tournament tonight and he wasn’t usually late.

Chewing on her lip, Marinette glanced at the time again, wondering if he had forgotten or if he was in trouble. Her gaze drifted sullenly over to the macarons and croissants that she had made fresh beforehand which had now cooled considerably. With a quiet sigh, she turned to her kwami. “Do you think something could have happened to him? Why is he so late?”

“I’m sure everything’s fine, Marinette,” Tikki chirped positively, “Maybe he’s just busy.”

She tilted her head in acceptance to Tikki’s words but turned to her balcony trapdoor to stare at it forlornly. In a bout of Ladybug luck, a soft knock sounded from it. Marinette immediately brightened, rushing up her ladder to open it for him. Running a hand through her hair, she spoke rather breathlessly, “Hi.”

Chat gave her a soft smile, raising a hand in a wave. “Hi, purrincess. Sorry I’m late. My work ran late tonight.”

Her eyebrow rose as her lips twitched in amusement. “You work? Are you sure?”  

He chuckled, shaking his head before he jumped down into her bedroom. He tapped her nose playfully as he said, “Yes, I do. I’m a pawsitively irresistible model that people can’t get enough of.”

Chat flexed in front of her and Marinette scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. Giving him an unimpressed look, she slid back down her ladder. “Sure you are kitty. And my designs are as famous as Gabriel Agreste’s.”

He snickered, following after her as his eyes glimmered with a mischievous, knowing look. “Purrhaps they will be in a few years, Marinette. You’re very talented.”

She flushed faintly, glancing at him softly out of the corner of her eye as she sank into her chair. “Aw, thank you, kitty! That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“You’re welcome,” Chat beamed back, sitting down next to her. His face lit up as he rubbed his hands together. “Now, are you ready for our competition? I think I’m pawpared to finally beat you this time.”

“Good luck,” Marinette shot him a smirk as she picked up her controller. “I’ve been practicing with a good friend of mine. I’d wager that he’s better than you too, so I’m pretty sure I’ve got this in the bag.”

With a pair of teasing blue eyes, she leaned in to flick his bell confidently. She had been practicing. Alya had begun dragging her to more game nights after learning how stressed she was so she and Adrien had begun playing together more often. It was a nice, relaxing break from her usual stresses of Ladybug. Plus, Adrien had actually managed to beat her once. He had pulled off a combo move that Marinette had never seen before, leaving her with too little health to finish him off in the end. Though she had pouted about it at the time, she was grateful for the new combo and even began practicing a defense against it.

Lost in her memories as she was, she barely heard Chat chuckle with a low murmur, “We’ll see about that.”

Narrowing her eyes at him playfully, Marinette then picked up a macaron, gesturing at the plate she had made for them. “By the way, I made some treats if you get hungry. Feel free to take some.”

Chat nodded at her happily, eagerly plucking up a croissant and gulping it down like he had been eyeing it since he sat down. Giggling quietly at his content expression, she booted up the game to catch him off guard.

“Hey!” Marinette heard him shout as she landed a punch that he didn’t have enough time to block. “That’s cheating!”

“Hmm,” she tilted her head from side to side. “I think it’s pretty fair considering you made me wait an hour before you got here.”

Sneaking a quick peek over at him, she saw his lower lip jutted out in an adorable pout. He whined quietly as their characters fought on the screen, “I already told you that it wasn’t my fault.”

Distracted by his pout for that brief second, Chat managed to get a good hit on her character. Pursing her lips in concentration, she focused her gaze entirely on the computer screen as her competitive streak kicked in. Marinette’s fingers moved across the buttons with ease, watching as Chat’s health gradually got lower and lower.

Just when she thought she was about to win, he shouted with pride, “Check this move out, purrincess!”

Marinette blinked in surprise as he began to play the exact combo that Adrien had used to win against her before. Fortunately for her the defense she had practiced still worked and she ended up winning. She wasn’t certain how exactly she had managed to win that game, though. She had just been struck with an eerie feeling of deja vu after Chat had shouted those words. Adrien had said something very similar before taking her down at their last game night and now images of the two boys were clashing and colliding in her head.

“Nice job, purrincess,” his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “I thought that last combo would have taken you down fur sure.”

“It did,” Marinette murmured unthinkingly, her gaze stuck on his messy, blonde hair trying to imagine it neater.

He tilted his head at her in confusion, gesturing to the computer screen. “Huh? No I didn’t... It says you won.”

“No,” she shook her head rapidly, trying to calm her racing thoughts. “I meant that it did before. The friend I told you I was practicing with... he used that combo and beat me.”

Marinette searched his gaze, looking for any sign of recognition or acknowledgment. She got it. Chat glanced away, scratching the back of his neck in a very familiar way. Her heart practically stopped as her breath hitched. She was right.

Lost in her realization, she barely heard him murmur quietly, “You were right, then... he does sound like a better player than me.”

Sucking in a steadying breath of air, Marinette then chewed her lower lip as she hummed, “You know, I don’t think I was right about that. In fact, I’d say that you two are probably at the exact same level. The only reason that move didn’t work on me this time was because I practiced ways to defend against it.”

Chat’s gaze had snapped to hers as he stiffened considerably. He chuckled nervously, his hand leaving the back of his neck to run through his hair. “R-right.”

How had she not noticed it before? It was so obvious. Her lips quirked in amusement as she looked up at him. Nudging his arm, she teased, “Next time, try coming up with a different combo to defeat me, Adrien.”

“I know,” he sighed, seemingly not noticing that she called him by his civilian name. “But you’re so amazing, that it’s so difficult.”

Instead of answering, she continued to stare at him pointedly. Her eyebrows rose after a few more moments of silence and Chat’s mouth eventually dropped open as he realized. He scrambled out of his chair as he held his hands up. “I-I mean, uh, who’s Adrien? W-what are you talking about, purrincess?”

Giggling, Marinette leaned down to stare into his familiar, green eyes. Now that she knew, there were so many signs. She wondered if he’d feel the same when she told him she was Ladybug. Giving him a small smirk, she then said, “That’s you, silly kitty.”

Chat sagged, looking up at her desperately as he pleaded with his eyes. “Please, Marinette. You can’t tell anyone. If Ladybug finds out you know who I am, she’ll probably kill you and me.”

Marinette threw her head back in a loud laugh that she was certain confused him. When she finally caught her breath again, she leaned back down to stare into his bemused gaze, teasing him, “It might be good for you to start running then because Ladybug knows that I know.”

“Wha? How? How could that even be possible?!” He frowned up at her, looking terrified for his life.

“Because, mon Chaton,” she flicked his bell, pointing at herself. “Ladybug’s right here.”

“What?! No! I, y-you can’t be Ladybug. What about Multimouse?” Chat asked desperately.

She shook her head a few times before responding, “Just an illusion. I was using the fox miraculous at the time and--”

Marinette got cut off as Chat tugged her down onto his chest, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. Squeaking with a bright red blush on her face, she hugged him back with all of her strength. This was Adrien. The love of her life. The boy who was currently brushing a kiss against the top of her head, sending shivers up and down her spine.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” he murmured, his warm breath on her head giving her goosebumps.

“Me too, my silly kitty,” Marinette whispered, closing her eyes as she relaxed in his arms. “Me too.”

Right now, everything was perfect. In fact, she’d be content to spend the rest of her life here if he let her. Snuggling closer to Chat, she sighed happily. She needed to remember to thank Alya for those extra game nights. They really were the best.

[anythingandeverything1d]

The tape (part 7)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Your pov:

You made it to the car before the tears started. They were rapidly falling down your cheeks, clouding your vision and your mind. Of course Niall had said that, of course he thought you were making a mistake going back to Harry so quickly. Hell, EVERYONE probably thought it was a mistake to trust him so easily again, but no one knew. They didn’t know how you felt, how Harry felt, or everything the two of you had gone through together. They knew nothing and yet they all had the audacity to judge your actions in the situation. You started the car, needing to get away from his house as fast as possible, but also having no idea where to go. You didn’t want to go home. You didn’t want Harry to see you like this and risk him getting upset and losing whatever feelings he had figured out with Niall, thus being the person to once again ruin One Directions already uncertain future. You also didn’t want to drive to Liam or Louis’ and involve them after your previous conversation where you told them to back off and let you and Harry figure it out on your own. You pulled out of the driveway, looking in the mirror as you left, Niall sitting on the porch in tears, calling out your name. You almost went back, almost gave him another chance to explain, but you also knew he needed to be sober and willing to talk before that would ever work out. 

You decided a drive would be good, but you didn’t have anywhere specific in mind you wanted to go. You just thought that a little wind in your hair with your music blaring was exactly the distraction you needed before going home to Harry and explaining the events that had unfolded. You turned the volume up, rolled the windows down and sang along, “why men great till they gotta be great, woo, I just took a DNA test, turns out, I’m 100% that bitch.” you stopped at the red light, quieting your singing when the car next to you looked over with concerned faces. You probably looked like a crazy woman, tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and singing Lizzy at the top of your lungs, it was almost a cry for help. You heard your phone buzzing and looked down at Harry’s name. You reached for the phone, which had fallen to the floor on the passenger’s side, when everything stopped, your vision went black, and the loud boom of a car hitting yours echoed through the intersection.

Harry’s pov:

It had been hours since (y/n) had left to go talk to Niall, HOURS. It shouldn’t have taken that long. Harry had texted her, called, and yet no response which was abnormal. Normally she would at least send a text back letting him know that everything was going okay. He had complete trust in her, but something wasn’t sitting right about the situation. He dialed Niall’s number, hoping to get some clarification but there was no answer from him either. He paced around the living room anxiously. What if she decided to chose Niall, what if she decided he was right, leaving Harry in the process. Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest, he had just gotten her back, he couldn’t lose her, not again. He clicked another contact and held the phone to his ear anxiously awaiting the answer. “Louis?”

“What do ya want now, fooking hell Harry, can’t seem to do anything without getting a call from you these days.”

“Sorry...sorry....it’s just-”

“Lemme guess, (y/n).”

“She’s been gone for hours...neither her or Niall are answering...I don’t know what to do.”

“Well I’m about to pull into Niall’s so I’ll let you know what they are up to.”

“Why are you at Niall’s?”

“He wanted to watch the game together. I didn’t know (y/n) was going over or I would’ve held off but I’m about there now so its a little late. I’ll send her home to you.”

Harry sighed and bit his lip, “I just want to know she’s okay...”

“I’m sure she is mate, just relax. I’m literally two minutes from his driveway.”

“You don’t think she would-”

“She’s not gettin it on with Niall. I think it’s pretty obvious who she loves and it isn’t the Irish lad.”

“Yeah, I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Exactly. Okay, I’m pulling in now. I don’t see her car...did she drive herself?”

“Yeah...yeah she would have her car.”

“Well maybe she’s on her way home...hang on Niall is on the porch, I’ll ask him.”

“Okay..” Harry’s nerves were going insane, he couldn’t even stand still. Something just didn’t feel right.

“Niall, when did (y/n) leave...” he heard Louis shouting to Niall but couldn’t quite make out the answer. “Are you sure?”

“What? What is it?”

“Niall says she left an hour ago.” Harry’s heart sank. If she wasn’t at Niall’s where was she? “I’m sure everything is okay...” Louis tried to reassure him, but it wasn’t working. 

Harry hung up and dialed her number again, but there was still no answer. He called again, “come on (y/n).....answer.....answer....” No answer. He hung up and texted her, *everything okay? where are you?* He sat down and tried to think of what else to do...he might be able to track the phone but that wasn’t likely..she had blocked him from her location after the sex tape leaked. *Just let me know you are okay....Im getting worried* He dropped the phone to the couch and picked up the remote to turn on the tv, maybe some Friends would take his mind off it. He clicked resume on the episode and tried to focus but his phone buzzing immediately had his hopes up. “(y/n)?” he answered before looking at the number.

“No. It’s me.”

“Louis what the hell.”

“Turn on the news...”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine.” He turned the tv to cable and went to the local news station. “All I see is they are reporting an accident....”

“Yeah. Doesn’t that look like (y/n)’s car though?” 

Harry’s breath was pulled from his chest as he anxiously waited for the car to be shown. There it was. A black car, he couldn’t quite make out the model but it looked like (y/n)’s. “We are currently awaiting police reports from the incident but can confirm there are two dead, and three that were care flighted in critical condition after the accident occurred. We will have more information for you right after the break.”

“Harry?” Louis’ voice cut through the silence. “It’s probably not her...”

“It was her car. I know it was. I mean I think-”

“Why don’t you come over to Niall’s and we can wait for more news...You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Yeah...yeah okay I will.”

“Alright good. See you soon.” Louis hung up and Harry grabbed his keys, trying to shake the thought from his head. Two dead.....was she one of the two? Was she in the hospital? Was she okay? His heart sank, the feeling of pressure on his chest. She had to be okay.

He drove to Niall’s fast, faster than he should’ve. He almost drove by the accident site, just to confirm if it was her car, but the traffic was lined up miles down the road as they had shut the intersection down due to the accident. He made it to Niall’s and pushed through the door, tears already in his eyes. “Are there any updates?” he sat down on the couch not even looking at Niall and Louis. Louis shifted uncomfortably and looked at Niall who put his head down. Harry looked over at them, his eyes searching for answers.

“Well...they explained that the white car there, they weren’t paying attention or some shit and slammed into the two other cars, the black and the what color is that? Green?” Louis was trying to explain it but Harry could barely listen as they showed the totaled cars.

“Two died so far, the other three are in the hospital with serious injuries.” Niall finished. He looked at Harry and sighed like he wanted to say more but also that he understood the situation and that it wasn’t the time.

“Is (y/n) okay?” Liam came walking in, looking around at the others sitting on the couch. 

“We don’t know...there hasn’t been any news.” Louis said looking at Harry for any sign of emotion. Harry didn’t know what to feel. He felt hollow, like there was nothing left. He felt the way he had when (y/n) had pushed him away at Louis’ the night he tried talking to her. If (y/n) was gone, there was no hope left for him, he wasn’t sure he would ever be okay again without her.

“Well has anyone had any contact with her?” Liam was trying to be logical, trying to debunk the theory that it wasn’t her.

“Niall was the last one who talked to her.” Harry spat, looking at Niall. “He was the one who saw her last.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Liam looked at Niall who shook his head.

“We didn’t- she didn’t- we didn’t really end on the greatest of terms.”

Harry laughed, frustrated with the whole situation. “Of course.”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?” Niall stood up walking towards Harry.

“It means, she came to give you a second chance and you must've fucking blew it.”

“You know why I blew it?” Niall poked Harry’s chest. “Because I told her it was a fuckin mistake to trust you and go back to you after you fuckin cheated on her.”

Harry pushed Niall back, “You know what the mistake was? Trusting you with the sex tape secret. If I had told anyone else we wouldn’t be in this problem.”

“I should’ve told her the minute I found out, then at least her leaving you would've been on account for your actions and not mine.”

“She’s not leaving me.” Harry growled. “We are working things out.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall mocked. “Then why was she here? Why was she trying to talk ta me about the sex tape, about everything that happened?”

“Because she’s a better person than you will ever be. She’s trying to mend the relationship she had with you, so that you two can stay friends.”

“Friends? I wouldn’t say that. I think there’s something more there than she wants ta admit.”

“She told me she thought of you like a brother. Maybe you shouldn’t even get the title of friend though after breaking her down once again..”

“Then why did she let me kiss her huh?” Harry didn’t even say anything, his fist collided with Niall’s cheek, sending Niall stumbling back. Louis grabbed Niall, and Liam grabbed Harry, separating them before anything else could happen. “That’s right. She could be dead and the last person to kiss her was me. How’s that make ya feel Harry?”

“Both of you need to shut the fuck up. This isn’t helping anything.” Liam let go of Harry and stepped between him and Niall.

“Seriously. All that should matter is (y/n).” Louis relaxed his grip on Niall and looked at Harry. “You two need to figure out your differences as well, this is getting old. Niall, (y/n) doesn’t love you the way you love her. It’s been obvious for years and we should’ve said something then. Harry you can’t blame Niall. You can only blame the other car for hitting her, if it even is her we don’t know.”

“Louis’ right.” Liam stepped back. “Niall you kissing (y/n) was just stupid, I mean what did you expect would happen. I think anyone of us would hit you after admitting that. Now you two work this out, Louis and I are going to call and order dinner since this seems like it could be a long night.”

Louis and Liam left the room, leaving Niall and Harry sitting on the couch glaring at each other. Neither wanted to speak first, but someone was going to have to. Niall touched his cheek where Harry had hit him and winced. “It was a good shot.” Niall commented.

“Thanks...been working on it for a while.” 

“I can tell, really got me good. PR is gonna have a fit when it bruises.” Harry laughed and tried to be mad, but Niall sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I only did it to see if there was something there. She pushed me off immediately though, said she only ever loved you. I should’ve accepted it but I pushed her farther and she left upset. It’s my fault she is where she is now”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s not mine.” He looked over at Niall. “This was wrong place, wrong time. The rest of the situation doesn't matter. So you kissed her, or got into an argument about me being a dick, you can’t control her, no one can.” Harry laughed lightly. “That’s something I’ve always loved about her. She never does what she’s told. She's too independent for that.” He stood up, pacing the room again, trying to distract himself from the situation.

“She's going to be okay.” Niall stood up and walked over, pulling Harry into a tight hug. Harry felt the tears falling down his cheek, he held tightly onto Niall and nodded.

“Now that’s better.” Louis nodded approvingly.  He carried a couple beers out and offered them up. Niall took one, downing most of it in one sip but Harry pushed the bottle away. He wasn’t in the mood, not when he didn't know where (y/n) was or if she was okay....or alive.

“Have you checked your phone at all Harry?” Liam asked sitting down with a bag of chips. 

Harry looked around and shook his head. “I thought the sound was on and haven't heard anything but I’m not sure...” He grabbed his phone from the floor and looked at it. There were a few twitter notifications but other than that nothing. He dropped it to the couch and stood up. “Should I call the hospital and ask?”

Louis shook his head, “you’re not family, they won’t give you any information even if she is there.”

“Maybe you could call her family?” Niall suggested.

“Who was her emergency contact?” Liam asked, taking another handful of chips from the bag Niall had stolen.

“I was...I’m not sure if she changed it or not...” Harry’s head dropped and he stared at the phone, willing it to give him some kind of answer.

“Check your home camera’s, maybe she made it home and her phone is dead or somethin.” Liam suggested.

Harry pulled up the livestream and shook his head. “She’s not home.” He sighed, “Maybe I should just drive by the scene and explain the situation. They might be able to give me some answ-” Harry’s phone ringing stopped him dead. He stared at the name and wave of relief washed through him when her name popped up. “(y/n), thank god, you had me worried sick.”

“Mr. Styles, this is Officer Watson..” Harry’s heart fell, the phone fell out of his hand and he sat there frozen, unable to answer. Something had happened to her.

Louis picked up the phone, “Hello? Ah, yes, Officer Watson, this is Louis Tomlinson how do you do?” He looked at Harry and then at the others and then at his feet. “Yes, I’ve got Harry here with me...yeah...yeah I do believe that’s correct that he was her emergency contact....” Harry looked up with tears in his eyes and Louis bit his lip. “Is she- is she okay?”

“Put him on speaker mate.” Liam whispered. 

Louis put it on speaker and continued on, “Yeah...yeah we saw there was an accident...is she okay though?”

Everyone held there breath, Harry looked like he was about to pass out, Niall looked sick, and Liam just looked nervous. “Well...the accident was pretty bad, and unfortunately-” Harry broke into a sob, interrupting the answer and Louis shook his head.

“Sorry about that, do continue.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately (y/n) was injured in the accident. She was taken to the hospital unconscious. I don’t have any more information to share with you, but did want to let you know she will be there and that they are accepting Harry Styles, as her medical contact to show up eventually. Sorry to have to inform you of this...if you have any questions contact our department, otherwise, we hope everything works out.”

“Yes...yeah, thank you mate, Harry will be on his way. We will contact you with more questions in the future. Alright bye.” Louis hung up and handed Harry’s phone to him. Harry’s eyes were rimmed with red already, his breathing fast and unnatural. “Harry...” Louis tried shaking him, looking at the other guys for help. “Harry you need to go to the hospital..”

“What if she’s dead?” 

“He said she was alive when she got there, so come on.” Louis grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him up. “If she wakes up alone, she’s going to be scared to death, do you really want that? Do you want her waking up alone?”

Harry shook his head and stood up. “Will...will you guys come as well?” They nodded and Louis grabbed his keys, ushering everyone in the car. 

The drive to the hospital was silent, no one in the mood to talk and the only sound was coming from Harry who holding back sobs. Louis pulled up to the ER and let Harry out so that he could run inside while they parked the car. 

Harry walked up to the desk, wiping his tears and holding his breath, unsure of what he was about to find.”Hi, uhm I’m Harry Styles...my girlfriend (y/n) was brought in here from an accident....the...the officer said that I would be able to come in and and see her....”

The nurse looked up at him with her mouth open, clearly not expecting Harry Styles to walk in. Harry nervously tapped the counter, waiting for her to answer. He wiped a tear that was falling and stared at the girl again. Louis, Liam, and Niall came running up behind him, looking at the girl as well. “Did ya find anythin out?” Niall asked.

“Not yet...” Harry mumbled. “Excuse me...I’m looking for (y/n)...she was brought in by ambulance or or by careful flight im not exactly sure...”

The nurse stared again, looking from one boy to the other, mouth open in shock. Louis was getting impatient, tapping his foot. “Okay. If you won't give us answers we will find someone else.”

“No..No sorry. Uh, yes. (y/n)....(y/n)...ah she came in an hour or so ago with the other victims of the accident. Uh she is still unconscious...” she looked at the boys again. “I have Harry listed as the emergency contact which means he is able to go into the room but until she's transferred out of the ICU, he’s the only visitor allowed. Her room number is 12A. It’s on the left down this hallway.” she pointed to the right and smiled.

“We will wait out in the car for you Harry. Let us know what happens okay?” Liam clapped Harry on the back and pulled him into a hug. The other guys nodded and followed Liam out while Harry moved to the right side of the hallway. 

“12A....12A....” he finally came to the room. The door was closed and lights dimmed. He had no idea what he was walking into but he knew he needed to see her. He pushed open the door, his breath catching as his eyes caught sight of her. She was unconscious...just as the nurse had said, her small frame in the big bed. Her face had a nasty bruise and some cuts, but other than that he couldn’t tell the damage. He sat in the chair next to the bed and gripped her hand, softly rubbing his fingers over the cold skin. She was ice cold. He placed a kiss on her palm and then touched his head to the back of her hand, whispering, “(y/n)....(y/n) if you- if you can hear me....I-I just wanted to let you know I’m here....and I’m not going anywhere.”

---

So I know this seems a little dramatic....BUT I wanted it to be something big that brought everyone back together....ALSO since I’m already on part 7....I figured I would extend the story to make it an even 10 parts...Now the 10th part is actually just going to be the story and all the parts added together in one extra large story so stayed tuned!

Will (y/n) wake up? Will she be okay? Will she remember Harry and the boys? Will they make it through the next hurdle? 

xoxo

[plaidbooks]

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 9

A/N: Devon and Barba have to find out how to live alone again after almost 4 months of living together. Devon seems to have moved on, going back to work for the FBI. But it doesn’t take long for SVU to call her back into work.

This chapter follows Devon--Barba is mentioned a few times, but he’ll come back next chapter. This chapter also goes through Olivia being kidnapped by William Lewis in the episode “Beast’s Obsession.” I don’t go into super detail, so I suggest watching the episode if you haven’t.

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Tags: normal SVU stuff, gunshot wounds, William Lewis (if he’s a trigger in himself), kidnapping, at the end, I do describe a man taking a school classroom hostage, so if guns + schools aren’t something you want to read, be wary of that

Words: 5k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba (lemme know if you want to be tagged)

FBI Headquarters

Thursday, May 29th. 2:04pm

Devon was in the vault, putting on the familiar bulletproof vest, then a shirt on over it. Looking in the mirror, she examined herself; she could see the outline on the vest under the shirt, but that was fine. The time for subtlety was gone. Ever since Devon went back to work for the FBI, she had thrown herself into as many projects as she could. Anything to keep busy. Jenkins started her off slowly, joining a raid on a sex-trafficking ring, doing a simple UC—only lasting a night or two at most—here and there, maybe throwing in a hostage situation when they came up. But this case had been two weeks in the making. It was a high-level drug-ring. Devon had infiltrated the dealers and found the supplier. There was a team setting up to take him out as she geared up. Her job, however, was to go after the producer. The man was paranoid, armed to the teeth and always with his two bodyguards. It took Devon days to find where his safehouse—where he cooked the drugs--was. But now that she knew, she was taking him out, dead or alive.

Devon made her way out of the vault, heading towards the transport vehicle. She’d be going in first while her team would establish a perimeter, then they would join once she had a visual. The safehouse was small; just a hallway, main room, and kitchen. Which is why she opted for a pump-action shotgun; she wasn’t planning on taking the bodyguards alive, because she knew that she wouldn’t be given the same courtesy. She made her peace with this choice, even though she hated it—and she knew a certain prosecutor would have hated it, too. But she shook the thought from her mind, shutting out how his bright green eyes would have looked at her with disappointment.

 SVU Department

Thursday, May 29th. 2:30pm

Olivia Benson was shaking as the department moved around her. She had just addressed the public, appearing on TV, to confess that she had lied during William Lewis’s trail. She didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care what it meant for her job. All she wanted was to find the bastard—or more accurately, find the little girl he had taken hostage. Though, she also felt a strong pull to find him, too, just so that she could finally get rid of him. Whether that meant jail or death, even she didn’t know, but she just wanted him gone, out of her life. Suddenly, she remembered Devon’s words, spoken softly in her office.

“Do you want me to deal with Lewis?”

Olivia caught her meaning, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s fine. He’s not an issue anymore; he’ll be in jail for life.”

Devon nodded. “That just makes it easier to get rid of him. If you ever want me to, I want to be your first call.”

Olivia jammed her hand into the pocket of her dress blues, clutching her phone and whipping it out. She scrolled through the contacts until she found Devon’s name. Desperate and resolve hardening, she hit the call button.

450 Aloe Ave.

Thursday, May 29th. 2:45pm

Devon crept slowly through the front door, having picked the lock. By now, her team was stationed at the back door, the windows, and behind her at the front entrance. She crouched low, holding the shotgun up and at the ready. She made her way on silent feet down the hallway, towards the kitchen. She could hear utensils hitting various pots and pans, liquids bubbling, people murmuring in hushed voices. The walls were extremely thin; any sound Devon made, they would hear. So, she took her time, lifting one leg slowly, then placing it softly on the ground, toes first, before shifting her full weight onto it, then repeating the motion. It was the slowest she had ever moved, but she had all the time in the world. She made it halfway down the hallway when it happened. She put her full weight on her left foot, about to shift and pick up her right when her phone rang out, deafening in the silence. There was a beat of silence in the small space, broken only by the ringtone muffled in her pocket, before she dropped to the floor, gunfire exploding through the wall above her.

Dust and debris rained down on her as she covered her face, her phone still ringing through the explosion of noise. Once the gunfire stopped, the back door exploded open, the team stationed there running in, while the front team burst through the front. Devon rolled out of the hallway, stopping in the main room, laying on her stomach. Grunting, she pushed herself up, charging to join her team in the kitchen. It was over in a matter of minutes; the bodyguards lay dead, bodies sprawled on the floor, blood pooled around their corpses. The producer had been hit in the leg, screaming profanities at the armed officers, but was otherwise unharmed. No FBI agent was injured in the raid. That is, until someone pointed at Devon.

“Motely, you were hit,” one of her teammates said, pointing to her arm. She looked down and sure enough, blood was pouring out of her upper, left arm. It was weird seeing it; the adrenaline still coursing through her meant she didn’t feel it. But she couldn’t deny the blood gushing down her skin. She reached and touched the back of her arm, but there was no exit wound; the bullet was still in her arm.

“Here,” the man said, taking his handkerchief and tying it above the wound, a makeshift tourniquet. It would work until she made it to the hospital to get the bullet removed. “What the hell happened in there?”

“Oh!” Devon said, remembering her phone. She was cursing herself for not turning it off beforehand; how could she have forgotten? I’m never taking it off silent again, she thought. Looking at the screen, she was shocked to see that she had a missed call from Olivia. She dialed the voicemail, curious to see why she called. Her face fell as she listened to the message. William Lewis had broken out of jail? The hospital could wait; she’d make it there eventually.

“I gotta go,” she said, making her way to the door.

Her teammate was stunned. “But, Motely, you’ve been shot! You have to get that checked—”

“I gotta go,” was all she kept repeating as she left. She made her way to one of the cop cars parked along the street. She flashed her badge, said, “I need to take this. I’m just going to the hospital,” and left the officer standing in the street, looking confused.

Under JFK Bridge

Thursday, May 29th. 4:05pm

Devon called Olivia a couple times, but to no avail; it went straight to voicemail every time. Devon fought the urge to scratch her arm; it stopped bleeding—thank god for tourniquets—but the bullet was still in there, and she knew she’d have to get it taken care of soon. But not until she knew Liv was safe. She debated going to SVU, but she knew they’d force her to seek medical attention, so instead she worked on searching for Lewis. Every time she thought she was getting close, all she found was bodies, still warm from when he was there. It wasn’t until a couple hours later that the trail ran cold.

Fuck it, Devon thought. She knew what Olivia would say if she saw the state that Devon was in, but she didn’t care; she had to know that the Sergeant was okay. Devon sighed, pulling up a program on her phone that she had an old FBI buddy install. It was something that she’d never tell Olivia, or any of the SVU detectives, about, but after spending about a year together, Devon had bugged their phones. She updated the tech every time they had a new phone. Though since the force had changed so much since her UC in California, it was only active for Liv and Fin…maybe Munch and Cragen, if they didn’t change their phones. She felt slightly ashamed about it, but this was the first time she had actually used it. It was to keep them safe, she reminded herself. Sure enough, once the tech synced up, there was a little blip on a map, showing Devon exactly where Olivia—or at least, her phone—was.

Weird, Devon thought, looking at the dot. Olivia was apparently in the middle of nowhere—not a promising sign. Turning the engine on, Devon drove to where the blip was, eyes peeled for any sign of Liv, or Lewis. She got out, looked around for a moment, and found a discarded bulletproof vest, and a cell phone. She squatted down, looking at the tire tracks in the dirt; she could follow them for a little, but outside of that, it was a dead end. Getting back in her car, Devon pulled up the map of surrounding areas. There was nothing around, nothing except…an abandoned mill. If I were a serial killer hellbent on torturing a police Sergeant, that’s where I’d take her, she thought, starting the car once more.

She pulled up to the place, seeing a black car parked at the base of the structure. She parked a little way away, not willing to get too close. If her hypothesis was correct, and William Lewis had kidnapped Liv once again, then any interference could mean the Sarge’s death. But Devon thought she could outshoot the man; she shot Marco first, she could do it again. Only one way to find out. Hold on, Liv.

Devon had a thought; she pulled out her phone, texted a quick message to Fin, then threw it on the seat. Not getting caught by a ringtone again, she thought ruefully, and headed towards the construction, shotgun heavy in her hands. She eyed the structure warily, trying to gauge the situation. Once she entered the building, she realized how lightheaded she was; at some point while driving, her arm had started bleeding again. She looked at it now, and she saw a trickle of blood leaking out of the wound, tickling her skin as it pooled down to her hand. She wiped it on her pants, trying to keep a grip on her shotgun. Using her teeth and free hand, she retied the handkerchief.

As she made her way towards the first set of stairs, she felt her legs beginning to shake. From what Olivia had told her, and what she had researched about the man herself, she was positive that Lewis would’ve taken her to the highest point. It gave him a better viewpoint of the land, plus it gave him more time to do whatever he wanted to Liv. Renewed rage coursed through Devon, and she pushed herself to start climbing the structure.

With every step, her arm started bleeding anew, red gushing out of the bullet hole in her arm, the tourniquet loosening. I’m coming, Liv, Devon thought, regripping her shotgun. She had to make it to the top; no one else was there, though, hopefully Fin got her message about their location. But her vision was fading, her knees were buckling underneath her. No…she thought, sinking down to one knee. She leaned against a wooden support beam, gasping for breath, trying to blink away the spots in her eyes.

She heard car doors in the distance. Over here, she wanted to yell, but couldn’t make her mouth vocalize the words. She could hear footsteps below her—she couldn’t remember what floor she had made it to, she could only hope they came to the same conclusion that she did. Go up, she thought.

“Look, blood,” she heard a voice say. It sounded far away, but whether it actually was far or just her blacking out, she didn’t know. She heard radio static, but it was too far to make out the words. At least I know they’re cops, she thought. She must have passed out for a moment because the next thing she knew, she felt a strong hand shaking her shoulder gently, her face smushed against the support beam, shotgun hanging limply from her hand.

“Devon? Are you okay? What happened? Have you seen Liv?” It was Detective Amaro shaking her awake.

Devon’s tongue felt thick in her mouth as she struggled to answer. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out except a pained groan. It was then that Amaro noticed that she had been shot.

“Shit, we got to get you outta here,” he mumbled. He looked behind him; Fin was moving past him, gun ready and heading up the stairs, Rollins hot on his heels. Another man, older and clearly the one in charge, was standing by Amaro.

“You take her, we’ll find Benson and Lewis,” the man commanded. Amaro didn’t seem happy about being left behind, but he didn’t complain. He took the shotgun, handing it to the man, and pulled Devon’s uninjured arm around his neck, standing with her, arm supporting her waist.

“Top,” Devon whispered out. Before Amaro had a chance to relay the information, however, the radio turned back on, a man’s voice—must be Lewis’s—came through.

“Two chambers left, one bullet.” And then the radio was off again. Even with Devon’s fading mind, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was happening.

“Go,” Devon took her arm back, pushing Amaro towards the stairs. “Go up.” Without him to support her, she slumped against the beam, sinking to the ground. Amaro gave her a hard look, then turned and followed Fin and Rollins. The man holding her shotgun opened his mouth to speak, but then there was a gunshot from above. This head whipped to look up, then he looked back at Devon, then tore up the stairs.

Devon forced herself to her knees, Olivia’s name repeating in her mind, hoping, praying, that that gunshot was her killing Lewis and not the other way around. She started crawling up the stairs before everything went black.

Mercy Hospital

Friday, May 30th. 10:15am

Devon awoke in the soft hospital bed. Her arm stung, but not as bad as it did yesterday. She tested the muscles, clenching and unclenching her hand over and over again. Everything seemed to be working, which was good, though the muscles were weaker. She laid in silence for a few moments before a nurse came in, checking the IV bag.

“How are you feeling today, Miss Motely?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

“Fine, all things considering,” Devon smiled back. She thought back to yesterday, to the botched raid, getting shot. The phone call. Lewis escaping jail. Olivia kidnapped—

“Is Sergeant Benson okay?” she blurted out, jerking upright off her pillows.

The nurse smiled at her, and gently, but forcefully, pushed Devon back onto the bed. “You have a visitor,” was all she said before she left the room. Devon watched her go, confusion furrowing her brow. She remembered the gunshot echoing in her mind, Olivia…was she—could she be--?

“Hey,” a voice said.

Devon turned and relief flooded through her as Olivia walked over to her bed. “Holy shit, you’re okay. I mean, you are okay, right? I see you’re alive, but I know that—”

Liv put her hand up, causing Devon to fall silent. “Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally…this is going to take me…a while….” She trailed off. Devon nodded, knowingly. They both knew trauma and PTSD. All they could do was be there for each other.

Olivia grabbed a chair, brought it over to Devon’s bed. “I don’t want to talk about IAB right now. Right now, I want to hear about why the hell you were found at that abandoned mill with a bullet in your arm. The doctor said you were lucky to be alive, that you didn’t bleed out, that you only have a mild infection.”

Devon grinned darkly. “Well, when I got your call, I was in the middle of a raid. I was injured, and I did plan on going to the hospital, I really did. But then I heard that Lewis was out, and then I couldn’t get a hold of you, and I knew—I knew that he had you. And I was going to shoot that bastard.”

Olivia’s face darkened at her words. “William Lewis is dead. He…he shot himself in front of me,” she chuckled, but the sound had no emotion in it. “He’s actually framing me for it.”

Devon let the words sink in. “Are you kidding me? That…that sick bastard! God, I wish I could bring him back so I could kill him again!” she yelled. “Sorry,” she said, seeing the look on Liv’s face.

“No, I…I get it. He…he definitely knew what he was doing.”

Devon took a breath, calming herself. Liv didn’t need a hothead right now; she needed a friend. “Do you need a place to stay? Or someone to stay with you?”

Olivia reached out and squeezed Devon’s knee. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine. I have a really good therapist, and an even better support system.”

Devon nodded. “Okay. But if you need anything, anything at all, you call me. Deal?”

Liv smiled. “Deal. Though, I feel like last time I called you, I got you shot.”

Apartment of Devon Motely

Tuesday, June 17th. 9:05am

Devon was enjoying a rare day off, stretching on her couch. She groaned as her body burned from her morning workout; she was done with physical therapy for her gunshot wound, but her arm still burned from some of her workouts, the muscles taking longer to heal than the rest. It was getting better, though; she could almost bench press her normal amount, and she could do 3 sets of pullups, compared to her normal 5 sets. But that wasn’t the only reason she was in a good mood; she was going to meet Liv for lunch today. Devon hadn’t seen her since the whole William Lewis thing, only talking to her on the phone; Devon still couldn’t bring herself to go to the courthouse, even in support of Liv, which she felt insanely guilty about. They were going to eat at the precinct—being Sergeant meant she was stuck there most of the time—but that didn’t bother Devon at all. She was just happy to see her friend.

SVU Department

Tuesday, June 17th. 11:10am

Once the elevator doors to the precinct opened, Devon knew something was wrong. The department was alive with activity, officers and detectives alike scrambling to grab their equipment and heading out the door. Devon ran to Liv’s office, catching her right as she was grabbing her jacket and heading towards the office door.

“What’s going on?” Devon asked, instantly alert.

“Got a disgruntled father that took a classroom, including his own kid, hostage. I’ll give you the details on the way,” Liv had responded, not pausing in her flight out of the precinct. Devon followed, mind racing. So much for chatting over lunch.

Once on the scene, Devon had all the facts, plus extras, that she needed. The perp’s kid, Jake, had been sexually abused by his mother for months, hence SVU’s involvement. The father, Steve, had been deeply disturbed by this, and the mother, Delilah, had been taken into custody, though the court date was still looming in the distance. Olivia didn’t know the details on Steve’s reasoning behind the hostages; she only knew the facts. Steve had entered the school—a summer school/day care for elementary kids--with a loaded pistol. He entered the classroom, not letting anyone, even the two teachers, leave, effectively gaining exactly 30 bodies to barter with. The rest of the elementary school was free to evacuate. ESU was already there but couldn’t get a shot on the father—the blinds in the classroom were closed, and they were hesitant to storm the building with so many children in danger. Cops were surrounding the crime scene tape, keeping what looked like the parents, away from the situation.

“Do we have blueprints on the school?” Devon asked as she suited up. She was glad she layered two shirts today: an undershirt and a regular shirt. She stripped off the top shirt, strapping the bulletproof vest on, then stuffed the discarded shirt down the front of it, Rollins and Amaro giving her a weird look. Liv had learned at this point to not ask questions.

“No, but we have a rough outline from the principal,” Liv replied. She mic’d Devon up, and Amaro handed her glasses that had a built-in camera. The glasses were a little annoying at first, but she knew that she’d tune them out soon enough.

“Good enough,” she said, taking the crudely drawn outline from Olivia. She looked it over, picking out and memorizing the path she had chosen. The school had two floors; the entrance she had picked was on the roof, where she could drop into the second floor and on the opposite side from where the hostages were. It was a little harder, but it made it so that Devon didn’t have to be completely silent. She wished she had more info—the type of flooring, whether the doors squeaked, etc.—but she rarely got all the facts before an infiltration anyways. This should be a piece of cake…she hoped. Kids were a sore spot of Devon.

“Am I live?” she asked Rollins, who was in the police van, on the cameras.

After checking audio and video, Rollins gave her the thumbs up.

“Be careful,” Liv said as Devon walked towards the school. She didn’t reply, mind already focused on the task at hand. She made her way to the left side of the school, as far from the targeted classroom as she could be. There was no fire escape or wiring draping from the roof, so Devon had to get creative. She examined the windows, their ledges, and the wall material. She shook out her arms, the soreness from this morning no longer there, but knowing that this was the real test of her injured arm, whether she was healed or not. Taking a deep breath, she climbed on the bottom of the first-floor window, then reached up to the second story window. She was able to get a good enough grip to pull herself up. She struggled her way up the side of the school, arms shaking but never failing her. Once on the roof, Devon caught her breath as she looked for the skylight that the principal had put on the outline—people trying to help often put in too many details, but it would come in handy now. Unsheathing her dagger, she cut a hole in the screen covering the skylight, large enough to fit a hand through it and pop it out from the inside. The glass would be tricky here, but something Devon had done multiple times before. She put pressure on one side of it. It finally gave, popping inward. Like a seesaw, the other side came swinging upwards towards her face. Devon scrambled to grab the side coming at her, catching it before it hit her, or the glass pane fell. She pulled it back out and placed it gently on the roof by the discarded screen. Next, she took the shirt that she had half-stuffed down the front of her vest, and went about cutting it in half, starting a tear with the knife and then ripping it with her own strength. The floor inside was tile, as she had expected with most schools, so she needed to silence her shoes before dropping in. She wrapped her feet in the now ruined shirt and tied it around her shoes as tightly as she could. Satisfied, she lowered herself through the skylight, hanging for a moment before dropping into the second story of the school on near-silent feet.

Devon waited a moment, listening, but heard nothing alarming. Standing up straight, she walked over to one of the classrooms by her, tested the door. It took her four tries to be able to open it silently, but after the fourth try, she was able to continue doing it. There was also a built-in doorstop, a good omen. Plan formed, Devon made her way silently down the stairs. She had unholstered her gun as she crept closer to the classroom. Once crouching outside it, she pressed her ear to the door. Silence. She carefully peeked into the window in the door.

A man with a gun—holding it limply by his waist, pointed at the floor--was standing just inside the door but had his back to it. That meant that 1) he didn’t see her and 2) he had all the kids in front of him. And that meant that she couldn’t blitz him, not when the kids were in danger of being shot.

The kids were either crying silently, hiding under a table, or were pressed into the teacher’s arms. The teachers had a brave face on for the kids, but their eyes betrayed how terrified they really were. But no one looked injured. Good. Now came the hard part; the distraction and the hope that children could keep quiet. Liabilities that Devon hesitated to rely upon but found it necessary to do so. She ducked down, taking a couple steps from the door. She sent a text to Olivia.

Pull him to the window

Devon counted the seconds before she heard a megaphone going off outside. She couldn’t understand what was being said, but she didn’t care, as long as it worked. And work it did; she peeked in the window once more to see Steve head towards the big windows on the far side of the room. He pulled open two blinds to look out, right as Devon silently opened the door. She put the door stopper down, then started to slowly, slowly crouch-walk towards Steve’s back. She had one hand holding the gun steady to his broad back—a bigger target than a headshot—and one hand by her face, holding a finger to her mouth, silently shushing everyone else. She didn’t take her eyes off of Steve, so she didn’t notice if the children or teachers noticed her at her crawling pace.

Steve released the blinds, causing Devon to stop, holding her breath. Steve then put the gun down and leaned on the counter with both hands. Devon forced herself to resume the slow pace, even with the rush of adrenaline that coursed through her seeing him disarm himself. His body rocked with silent sobs, and he put his face in his hands. Once Devon was within reach of the target, she stood to her full height. They were about the same height; that made this easier. She placed the muzzle of her gun against the base of his skull, causing him to jump.

“Freeze, FBI,” Devon said loudly and clearly. “Put your hands above your head.” Steve seemed to think through all of his options in a couple seconds, then made the decision to raise his hands above his head, defeated. Devon reached past him, grabbing the gun and putting it in her waistband before holstering her own gun and cuffing him, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding. This could’ve been worse…much, much worse.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Steve said through tears. “M-my son….”

Devon felt a pang of pity for the man—he was under a lot of duress--before remembering the looks of the terrified children behind him. “I know you are, Steve. But we have to go now.”

She turned him from the window and walked towards the door. At that point, the classroom exploded with activity; teachers started thanking her, children started hugging her legs, voices overlapping in fear and relief. Devon knew it was an elementary school but was still shocked at how small the kids were. This could’ve ended much worse.

“Round up all the children and follow me,” Devon ordered. She suddenly wanted to be out of the building, away from this situation. The teachers set about rounding up the 5- and 6-year-olds and followed Devon out into the hall. Devon gave them all a once-over, checking for injuries, before heading towards the school’s entrance. Something was off in the back of Devon’s mind, but she shook it off, more worried about getting everyone out safely. Once at the double doors leading to freedom, Devon stopped the group.

“Stay behind me,” Devon instructed in a low voice to the teachers and children. Raising her voice, she called out, “Coming out! Suspect is restrained; hold your fire!” She then pushed the handle on the door slowly, showing her face first before dragging out the now openly weeping Steve. The teachers and children came out behind her, taking off towards their parents. A little boy, most likely Jake, gave Steve a sad look, tears running down his face, before running to what looked like his grandparents. Devon handed Steve over to a waiting officer and took a deep breath of relief. It wasn’t until she saw a pair of worried parents looking frantically around that the weird feeling she had in the hallway hit her; there were only 29 people grouped together in that hallway. Saying nothing, she turned around and sprinted back to the classroom.

She almost lost her footing when she made it in the classroom door—she still had her shirt wrapped around her feet, making her steps slippery on the tile floor. She looked around the room, panic raising in her throat. Then she heard it, a little sniffle from under a table. She made her way to it slowly and crouched down. A little girl was underneath, holding onto a stuffed tiger like it was a lifeline, and crying silently.

“Hey honey, are you okay?” Devon asked softly. The girl nodded but made no move to come out. Devon thought for a moment on how to approach this; she knew that her parents must be freaking out, but she didn’t feel right dragging the girl out from under the table. Instead, she asked, “what’s your name?”

“A-Ashley,” she whispered back.

“Hey Ashley. My name is Devon,” she gave her a small smile. Devon sat down on the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Not the easiest thing to do with a bulletproof vest on.

“Hi Devon.”

“May I ask you why you’re hiding under the table? You know your parents are worried about you, wondering where you are.”

“I-I’m afraid,” she sniffled, fresh tears spilling over. The fear in her voice was like a punch to the gut. This poor kid is going to need counseling for sure after this. She made a mental note to talk to the parents.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Devon asked. Ashley nodded, sniffling. “I was pretty scared, too.”

Ashley’s eyes widened with this admission. “You were?”

“Uh-huh. Will…will you walk with me until we’re outside? Please?” Devon asked. She learned a long time ago that most afraid kids don’t want to be told to not be afraid, that their fear isn’t valid. But they liked when they heard that adults were afraid, too, and were more willing to help adults overcome their fears.

“O-okay,” she replied in that small voice. Ashley scooted out from under the table, taking Devon’s hand in her own, the stuffed tiger still clutched in her other. Together, they left the classroom quickly, Devon stopping her short of the doors outside, announcing their exit before heading out in case ESU was still around. Her parents cried tears of joy seeing their daughter safe and sound. Devon handed the mother her business card, telling her to feel free to call her if Ashley needed any help, and to find her a counselor. She squeezed Ashley’s shoulder, giving her a small smile and thanking her for helping her outside, then found her way over to Olivia.

“Great work, Dev,” Liv said once within earshot. Devon brushed her off while taking off the vest, the mic, and the glasses. She noticed in the back of her mind that the whole interaction with Ashley was recorded; she had stopped paying attention to the glasses and mic by the time she had climbed onto the roof.

“Tell the principal that I’ll pay for a new screen and window for the skylight,” Devon replied, half-joking. She knew the city would replace it anyways, but Devon would be a faster route. She placed a bracing hand on Olivia’s shoulder as she stood on one foot, unwrapping her shirt from the other.

Liv smiled, then burst Devon’s bubble by pointing out the press that had been held at the line. “Ready for your 15 minutes of fame?” Devon groaned, taking the other half of shirt off her foot.

Devon already hated talking to the press, but something else had caught her eye. The police van’s doors were open and standing outside them were Detectives Amaro and Rollins. And standing right next to them, already staring at her, was Rafael Barba. Even from this far away, their eyes locked. Devon steeled herself, keeping her face as neutral as possible, even though her heart ached at the sight of him. Barba, however, was not as skilled; she saw longing, remorse, and most apparent, a terrible sadness in his eyes. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, even though there was no possible way that Devon would hear it, but instead, Devon broke the eye contact, looking back to Olivia.

“I, uh, would rather sneak out the back way.”

Olivia noticed the look that Devon had shared with the ADA, but said nothing, nodding understandably—she hated talking to the press, too—before flagging down an officer who was parked away from the front lines. Devon followed him to his car, and he gave her a ride home. He talked the whole way, asking where she learned to climb buildings like that, details about what happened once she was inside, and gushing about how great she was. She gave flippant responses, just hoping to be home and trying to erase that look of Barba’s haggard form and intensely sad eyes out of her mind.

[kumeko]

A/N: I’m having fun writing this. Part 3 of the  @marveltrumpshate fic I wrote for @wombatking

Summary: There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am, to an empty room, with an empty bathroom, and the kitchen all to herself. Kitty hit the jackpot.

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There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am. Absolutely luxurious. Kitty wanted nothing more than to sprawl over her bed, languidly stretching before she finally rolled off. Unfortunately, her right leg was a dead weight to all of this, so she had to settle for lazily yawning and spreading her arms above her. The birds had been awake for hours, her dormmates equally so, and she had the most glorious sleep. She hadn’t even noticed when Rogue had left for training, her roommate for once not waking her up with her extensive morning prep.

 For a girl who claimed that she didn’t care what others thought of her, she spent an awfully long time in front of the mirror. Kitty chuckled at the thought. Rogue was full of strange contradictions and the more she learned, the more she liked. It was strange to think that at one point they’d fought like cats and dogs.

 Well, if Kitty were honest, they still fought sometimes now, but they always made up after.

It was harder than she expected, to get off the bed. Her leg felt weird, her movements even more so—her legs didn’t feel in sync, her left far too light and quick, her right too slow and heavy. Walking was a strange hop and dance. Dressing even more so. She half-wished she had Velcro pants, like the ones Spike used for his stupid “my pants ripped off!” joke. The only problem was that they were ugly. On the bright side, she was more than used to putting a little pain in for her fashion.

 As she passed by a window, she caught sight of Jean and Amara running through the obstacle course, sweaty and tired. “Glad that’s not me,” she murmured, grinning as she stepped into the for-once-empty bathroom.

 She’d been wrong. The best part of her broken leg wasn’t sleeping in, it was the fact that there was no rush. No one knocked on the door, asking her to get out. Kitty didn’t have to bounce impatiently on her feet, waiting for the door to open so she could rush in. Nope, the bathroom was all hers, for however long she wanted.

 So was the kitchen, so was the tv—if she’d realized how good it was, she’d have broken her leg ages ago. Maybe in six weeks she could break the other one. Chewing on a piece of toast, she idly flipped through the channels. News, weather, Say Yes to the Dress, Psycho—

 “Ready to go?” Scott said, suddenly appearing behind her.

 Kitty almost dropped her toast, surprised.  Instinctively, she turned off the TV, flushing a bright red. “I, that—” She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling flustered. This was fine! Technically allowed! No one expected otherwise!

 Yet it was one thing to relax when no one was around, and another to do it in front of her slightly sweaty housemate. Scott’s hair might be carefully combed, but his skin still had a light sheen to it from all the exercise. Noticing her stare, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

 He’d always been a slightly dense brick. Fighting back her embarrassment, Kitty scarfed down her toast and stood up. “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

 “Alright then. I pulled my car up front, so just slip in.” Scott picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, instead of a reality show, you should try watching the news.”

 If Kitty could have, she would have stomped to the car.

 -x-

 “Hey girl!” Kitty got no other warning before a pair of slightly tanned arms wrapped around her neck, hugging her tight. Tabitha pressed her cheek against Kitty’s, her messy hair tickling her neck. As usual, her perfume was as loud as she was. “Heard you got hurt.”

 “Tabitha!” Kitty laughed, leaning into her friend. She’d been getting lonely anyways, sitting in the playground as she was. Kurt had gone to get lunch and unfortunately the track team wasn’t practicing, so she couldn’t even stare at them. “Did Amara tell you?”

 “Didn’t have to, I have eyes.” Tabitha let go and rested her hands on her hips. “I hear Blue is now two for two for training accidents?”

 “It was my fault this time, not his.” Kitty rubbed her neck sheepishly. To be honest, the other time hadn’t been entirely his fault either—Tabitha had a little to do with it. Gesturing at her leg, she explained, “I broke my leg, so now I’ve got that ugly thing.”

 “I know training sucks, but I didn’t think you’d go that far to get out.” Tabitha whistled as she saw the cast. “Damn, that’s clunky.”

 “I know, right! It’s like I have snowpants or something.” Kitty rapped on the top of her cast. “It’s so thick! I don’t want to know what’ll smell like after all of this heat.”

 “You’re lucky it isn’t summer, or you’d be roasting in it.” Tabitha scrunched her nose, her lips curling with disgust. “Broke my arm once, on a job, and not only was I utterly useless after, I reeked like Toad.”

 “Seriously?” Kitty didn’t have to ask to know what sort of ‘job’ she was referring to. Wincing, she looked at her cast again. Tabitha had to be exaggerating, right? “It’s not that bad, right? I can’t get it off for six weeks. I don’t want to deal with smell on top of everything.”

 “Just spray some perfume on it.” Tabitha winked. She mimed spraying it on. “Works like a charm.”

 “Eww.” Kitty glared at the offending cast, her heart sinking. Just how stinky could the thing get? She groaned. “So either I smell like Toad or a flowershop.”

 “Hey, the choice is yours.” Tabitha grinned, shrugging. “I bet Logan won’t like either smell.”

 “I don’t think Rogue or Kurt will like it either.”  Resigning herself to her fate, she hoped they’d still hang around her after six weeks were up.

 “Cheer up, it’s not that bad. You get a lot of sympathy goodies.” Tabitha crouched next to the cast, a marker in hand. She started doodling something, just out of Kitty’s sight. “People open doors for you, give you seats, sometimes even food—”

 “You shouldn’t eat things strangers give you,” Kitty warned, worried about that last one. Sometimes, she was amazed Tabitha made it to high school. More often, though, she was impressed the school hadn’t burned to the ground multiple times, considering her short temper. “And what’re you drawing?”

 “You’ll see!” Tabitha replied cheekily, her brow furrowed as she finished her masterpiece.

 Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

 “I’m pretty good at that, ask anyone.” Tabitha smirked up at her. “How’re the geeks taking this? Bet Logan ain’t happy.”

 “They’re like, the only bad part.” Kitty grimaced, remembering Scott’s lectures. And she had to get a ride from him for the next six weeks—her mornings were going to be so ruined. “I swear, Scott and Jean won’t shut up about it, and Logan’s just counting down the days till he can make me suffer again.”

 Tabitha stood up now, laughing. “Sounds like ‘em.” Hand on her hip, she gave her a wry look. “Honestly, you should just ditch that whole scene and join me. It might not be the best place to stay, but it’s the funnest.”

 There was absolutely no way Kitty was staying in that rundown house the brotherhood claimed was ‘livable’. She’d been there a handful of times, and each time she wasn’t sure how the place hadn’t been torn down. At the very least, it had to be filled with lice or something. “I’m not that desperate.”

 “Yet.” Tabitha pocketed her marker and waved before waltzing away. “Lemme know if you change your mind.”

 “Not happening!” Kitty laughed, watching as a garbage bin exploded.

 -x-

 Kitty lay on her bed, examining her cast by her tablelamp light. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d gotten to use that thing without having to cram for a test or something. Today was actually full of firsts—she finished her homework without having to rush, she had dinner on time, and hey, she saw an episode of her favourite drama on time instead of catching a rerun.

 Even now, she was lying in her bed, at 11pm, and not bone-tired for once. Across the room, Rogue snored lightly as she slept, too tired from training to complain about the light. The house was utterly silent at that this time and if it weren’t for the lights-out rules, she’d have snuck around to see just how different the house was at night.

 For now, she bent over her cast, running her fingers along the different signatures she’d collected. After Tabitha had signed it, the rest of her friends popped in, one after another, all ready to make a mark. The once white cast was now a collage of signatures and messages. Rogue had written her name in purple ink, with nothing else added to it, and Kitty couldn’t figure out if it was because she didn’t have anything she wanted to write, or if it was because she was too embarrassed to put anything.

 Feel better soon, Honey, Kurt had written in blue ink, and Kitty smiled as she pressed her fingers on the pink heart he’d drawn beside his name. It was utterly cheesy, but she liked that about Kurt.

 There was a picture of a grumpy Logan next to Spike’s name, and Kitty covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He was a terrible artist, and that only made it funnier. Logan was either a furious hedgehog or he was some new evolution of a bear. Definitely not human, at the very least.

 Finally finished with all the easy to read signatures, Kitty leaned forward and strained her neck to see what was on the back of her cast. More importantly, to see what Tabitha had spent so long drawing. Biting her tongue and squinting, she could just make out the picture.

 It was a dick.

 Of course it was. She flopped back on her bed, and silently swore revenge.

[the-angry-pixie]

Just a buttload of questions

I was tagged by the lovely @jessiohhh. Thank you chickadee. Took me forever to finish, but I got there. :D 

Apparently this is to help you get to know your tumblr peeps better. 

Gonna put most of these under a cut to save y’alls dashes.

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? I guess if I had to choose it would be black. I don’t know why. A good black ballpoint is a lovely thing to have.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? Depends what stage of my life I am in. I want to retire to the country but otherwise wanna live in the city.

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? To sew and make clothes. Gosh how different my life (and my wardrobe) would be if I could fix clothes, alter clothes, MAKE clothes. I want this skill so much!

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Don’t drink coffee. My tea has half a sugar. I worked my way all the way down from two sugars and I’m proud. :)

5. What was your favourite book as a child? My Dad used to read me Enid Blyton books when I was little. My favourite series was probably The Naughtiest Girl in the School series.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Definitely showers. I want to like baths, but whenever I take one I just feel sweaty and gross.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? A fairy. I’ve been obsessed with fairies since I was little.

8. Paper or electronic books? Probably electronic books. Easier to read and travel. 

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? Gosh I don’t know. I literally sat here thinking about it for a couple of minutes and I can’t pick a favourite. I guess by default it falls to the item that I wear the MOST which would be my black combat boots. I wear them almost constantly.

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? Nah I tend to think Laura is a bit boring. I like my middle name Eileen though.

11. Who is a mentor to you? I’m kind of without one at the moment. Thats just the situation my current life is in right now. 

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? I would like to be “Author Famous”. Like have soooooo much money, and dedicated fans who like my work. But nobody recognises me in the street. 

13. Are you a restless sleeper? Yes.

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? No, not in the conventional sense.

15. Which element best represents you? I wish I was earth but I would say probably water. Can be dangerous or calm. Flexible. 

16. Who do you want to be closer to? Hmmm I feel bad that I’m not closer to my godson. But ya see, he’s an annoying lil shit. At least the stage he’s going through right now is really obnoxious. So spending time with him is just... not fun.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? All my Canada friends.

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I’ve talked about early childhood memories on here a lot. I don’t want to repeat a story so lemme think a moment..... I remember being obsessed with pressing buttons when I was younger. I mean, most kids are. But you see my family lived on a dairy farm, and in the dairy where we milked the cows and stored the milk there was like... a WALL OF BUTTONS. And levers, and switches and other doo-dads. And like... I just wanted to press them all. But I wasn’t allowed. Obviously. Only at certain times during the day would my father call me over and lift me up so I could press one particular button. So yeah, I remember that. “Helping” my Dad in the dairy and being excited whenever I got to press the buttons. I never even got old enough to learn what the buttons did before we moved off our farm. :(

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? Hmmm, probably escargot. Snails. They were delicious.

20. What are you most thankful for? My newborn nephew.

21. Do you like spicy food? Yes. But spicy food does not like me.

22. Have you ever met someone famous? Yeah last year I was working on a feature film that had a Disney starlet working on it.

23. Do you keep a diary or journal? No way. Too hard. The only time I keep journals is for really important stuff that needs documentation. Like a medical journal when I’m sick. Or an anxiety journal when my GAD gets real bad.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? Pen I guess.

25. What is your star sign? Libra

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Bit of both. If you can get a mouthful with both then thats like... bliss.

27. What would you want your legacy to be? Do I need to want it to be anything? Cause I don’t. Like I don’t really care all that much. Maybe I will later in life.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I dont think its accurate to say I like reading when I literally never do it anymore. Except for fanfic. I listen to audiobooks a bit. I just finished listening to The Stand by Stephen King.

29. How do you show someone you love them? Cuddles, I’m a cuddler.

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Yes.

31. What are you afraid of? Wasted potential and never really getting where I want to get.

32. What is your favourite scent? That smell after a sun shower. Everything is wet and the sun is making it evaporate into the atmosphere. Love that smell.

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? Not to be cheeky but like, context is a thing. Depends on the context.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? Not terribly different. I would still work. I guess I would travel a lot more. Since that is something that I would love to do but can’t because I don’t have the funds.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Theyre both the same level of scary to me. Yes, I suffer from an irrational fear of pool sharks. So I guess I would go ocean because at least with the ocean you have the surf waves to make it fun.

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? Look around to see if someone had dropped it, then if there was no one, pocket it.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Yes. Last time I went camping there was a meteor shower. Wait, do they count as shooting stars? If not then no.

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? Compassion.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I want to get a bunch of babies-breath flowers tattooed in the middle of my back. Its so specific because I plan my tattoos for a long time before I get them.

40. What can you hear now? The fish tank filter at my brothers house.

41. Where do you feel the safest? In my bedroom. In my bed. Laptop and phone and kitty nearby.

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? My fear of relationships and emotional intimacy.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? I honestly don’t know. There are a lot of cool places (but like, usually only if youre in the upperclass). Ancient Greece maybe? Jane Austen era? Woodstock? I can’t decide.

44. What is your most used emoji? This lil dude. 🙃 I prefer it to the regular smiley face.

45. Describe yourself using one word. eclectic

46. What do you regret the most? Not having my mental health issues diagnosed at an earlier age.

47. Last movie you saw? In the cinemas? A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood back in January (actually got my wallet out and looked at my ticket stubs). Just in general - I watched The Florida Project last night with my bro.

48. Last tv show you watched? My Little Pony. Been watching episodes to help me fall asleep.

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. Derp-a-derp. My bro and I have been saying that over the last few days when we can’t remember the word we are trying to say. Like “go get me the derp-a-derp” or “what was I saying about the derp-a-derp”. Its a good placeholder.

-----

Annnnnd imma taaaaaaag.... like I said, this is a long one so no pressure (it took me like a week to get through all the questions).... anyway I tag @hichie, @thepragmaticrebel, @heavensdick and @serendipitous-magic.

[mythiica]

Reader x Gavin - Officer’s Punishment

Title: Officer’s Punishment

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Character: Gavin

Genre: smoot

Warnings: ;)

Kinks: handcuffs, nipple play, name play, face fucking, fingering, also good ol’ missionary idk

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1905 words

POV: second person w/ (Y/n)

Other comments: okay so i wrote this on the plane but then i got another request for a gavin smoot so i was like lemme really go ham on this and make it ultra steamy and knock out 2 requests in 1 - hope that both of yall like it ;) 

You can feel Gavin’s gaze burning on the back of your neck as you conversate with Victor. Despite insisting there is nothing between you and Victor, Gavin always found himself suspicious of the young business man. He’s wearing too much cologne. He’s flaunting his money too much. He’s trying to bed you. You heard it all from him, so it is no surprise that he interrupts the conversation.

          Victor swallows his words as his eyes rake over Gavin. “Ah, I didn’t realize you needed security, (Y/n). I would have been more than happy to provide.”

         Gavin snarls, but you catch his arm and hold him back. With a wry laugh, you try to keep things friendly. “Gavin is here to celebrate the success of our show and company. And he is also here as my plus one.”

         Victor’s eyes widen, betraying his emotions, but he quickly recomposes himself and takes a sip of champagne. “I see.”

         To add to your statement, Gavin tucks his arm around your waist and brings you closer to him. “Do you know anyone she might need protecting from, Victor?”

         You tug on Gavin’s shirt. “Let’s go talk with Lucien, shall we? I think I just saw him over at the desert table.” You give Victor a small smile before leaving quickly.

         As you had mentioned, you find Lucien prowling the buffet – his plate was loaded with enough to feed a few people, but that did not stop him from getting more.

         “Lucien!” you exclaim, letting go of Gavin. The doctor turns to smile at you, but his mouth is full with food, so when he responds, it just sounds like muffled words. He swallows and smiles at you.

         “Hello. Congratulations on the party, and your company of course.”

         “Thank you.”

         “You are growing ever popular with the introduction of interesting people. Do you think you would have time for me to slip in for an episode again?”

         “Of course!”

         Gavin hands you a plate with some food and stands directly behind you. His aura extends forward in an attempt to scare off Lucien – you can feel it sweeping around you like his jealousy had earlier. It only makes you giggle though, knowing that it would be a very long night if Gavin continued to act like this.

The moment you enter your room after the party has ended, Gavin pushes you against the wall and begins to kiss you deeply. His hands explore every part of your clothed body before throwing you onto the bed. You squeal when you land, but you don’t have a chance to as him what is wrong.

         “Gavin… what’s gotten into you?” You tuck your leg around his waist in an attempt to get him to stop. “Baby?” you ask softly, looking deep into his eyes, searching for his normal self.

         He leans down and kisses your forehead. “I’ve just…” He bows his head. “I think the alcohol has made me more adventurous than usual. Are you okay with that?” His caramel colored eyes go wide, waiting for your response.

         You nod your head and spread your legs apart slightly. “Should I call you Officer~?”

         He straddles you, his knees keeping you down to the bed and reaches from his back pocket. Gavin pulls out a set of handcuffs and lets them dangle from his finger. A smirk dances across his lips and he nods. “That would work…”

         You’re not used to this side of Gavin – after cuffing you to the bed, he kisses you ferociously and drags his hands down your body. If you could move, you would, but the cuffs keep you from squirming away. The metal clanks around against the headboard of the bed as you tense your muscles. He smells like strong alcohol and his lips are hot as they graze your skin. Gavin kisses every bit of exposed skin he can find before leaning back to look at you.

         Your hair is fanned out underneath your head and your makeup is smeared down your face from the passionate kisses. Your clothes are disheveled, but the scene only makes Gavin’s heart beat faster.

         “Officer, have I been bad?”

         Gavin groans and presses his forehead to yours. He is too shy to admit that he likes the name calling, but you understand that he does. Tipping your head upwards, you give him a quick kiss, but then he grips your jaw with one hand as the other one crawls down your torso. His fingers lift the edge of your skirt and he begins to rub the inside of your thigh. “Damn right you have. You act too friendly with the others. I don’t like it.”

         You laugh at this truth; you had not expected Gavin to be the jealous type despite all the obvious signs.

         This makes him scowl, so he leans back on his knees and unbuttons the top of your dress and simultaneously lifts your skirt to your waist. Now, nearly completely exposed, Gavin unclasps your bra from the front and immediately attaches his lips to your nipple. His tongue circles around your bud mercilessly, making you extend your neck.

         Making sure not to leave your other breast unattended, Gavin cups his hand over your mound and kneads your skin. Just like his lips, his hands are warm and send electric pulses throughout your body, making you charge with bliss.

         “G-Gavin!”          “Sh… this is your punishment…” he retorts, leaning up to give you a hickey on your neck. Moans escape your lips, fueling his actions more. “Just a bit more,” he promises before dragging his tongue down the center of your chest. Goosebumps raise in his wake, making you shiver.

         He trails his fingers over your clothed nethers and watches your expression contort. Gavin’s eyes shine with desire, so he gives in to the lust and pulls his shirt off. It flies into a corner of the room, quickly followed by his pants as well. Pressing his body to yours, Gavin tucks an arm around your body to pull you against him.

         You wrap your leg around him once more, inviting him to do more. Nipping your earlobe, Gavin pushes the elastic band of his boxer briefs down, exposing his hardened member.

         It does not take him long to rub himself against your entrance, and you really wish that you were not handcuffed to the bed. You want to drag your nails across his back while he pounds into you, but you know that Gavin won’t humor you.

         “P-Please,” you mewl.

         He positions himself so that his knees are on either side of your shoulders, and he holds his cock with one hand.

         “Open up then,” he barks, licking his lips.

         You do as you are told without delay – saliva drips from your tongue as he pushes the tip of his cock past your lips. You wrap your tongue around his shaft, but choke when he bucks into you. His member hits the back of your throat, causing tears to prickle in the corners of your eyes, but you would be lying if you said that you were not aroused by this position.

         Gavin holds your head with one hand, but keeps the other on the wall to balance himself. He grunts when you rub your tongue against his frenulum, and his fingers rake through your hair. “Nghh… yes…”

         Precum dribbles down your chin, and you know that he won’t last much longer. With your restricted range of movement, you bob your head back and forth until you feel his cock tense up. Another strangled grunt escapes his lips, and then he pulls out suddenly, leaving you a breathless mess.

         He pumps his shaft and curls over, his forehead brushing across the crown of your head. Gavin cums shortly after, his seed landing on your face and chest. Panting heavily, he leans back and runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck.. sorry…”

         Keeping eye contact with him, you flick your tongue out and catch some of his semen.

         His eyes seem to glaze over and Gavin pulls your leg up, exposing your cunt to him. “You really are asking for it…” he snarls.

         With that, he enters you, his member stretching your walls apart. He gives you a moment to adjust to the sensation, but then begins to thrust in and out of you at a rapid speed. You’d call it nearly desperate, but you do not blame him.

         “K-Kiss me.”

         “Oh?”

         You whine as a blush spreads across your cheeks. It is rather humiliating to ask him for something so simple, but with your hands out of commission and the desire blazing strong in your body, you had to taste his lips again.

         “Since you asked nicely.” Gavin’s mouth collides with yours and his tongue invades your mouth. His kiss burns your lips, making them numb from the pressure and faded taste of alcohol. When the tip of his cock hits your most intimate spot, Gavin bites your tongue slightly, making you cry out in surprise. “Be less friendly to them… you might give them wrong ideas. Especially the stuck up and the doctor.”

         “Don’t worry, I prefer police enforcement over businessmen or physicians,” you tease, arching your back against him so that your wet nipples rub against his own.

         The muscles in his arms tense, allowing you to witness the full beauty of his toned body. Gavin reaches for the small key to the handcuffs and releases you. Before you have the chance to hug him, Gavin pulls your arms forward and forces them around his neck. Moaning happily, you drag your nails across his skin as you wanted to.

         Gavin’s thrusts become sloppier, but you are beyond satisfied with the pleasure he delivers you. The knot in your abdomen releases, drowning you in his love. As you ride the climax, Gavin laps at your nipple, overwhelming you with euphoria. When you arch your back, it allows him to hit even deeper into you.

         He cums again, and you feel his warmth spreading into you. Tucking your face into the crook of his neck, you curl your fingers in his hair, tugging slightly. “G-Gavin…” you mumble meekly. “You feel so good…”

         “Ahh, don’t say that,” he replies suddenly bashful about it. He pulls out and sits in the middle of the bed to catch his breath.

         After rubbing the spot where the handcuffs had dug into your skin, you push the covers back and reach out for Gavin. “Come here,” you whisper.

         Gavin looks away for a moment, but then stands up and pulls the blanket upwards. He slips in next to you and grips your thigh, guiding you to keep your leg over his hip. Nuzzling against him, you wrap your arm around his torso and plant a kiss to his collarbone.

         Silence passes between the two of you, and for a moment, you think that Gavin might have fallen asleep, but when you open your eyes, you are surprised to see him looking – admiring you. He brushes his thumb over your lips, and his gaze does not waver.

         “I was going to pick them up and hold them over the edge of a skyscraper to get the message across… but this was better.”

         You burst into laughter and hug him tightly. “There is no need, Gavin. My heart is yours.”

         He blushes again. “Good. Now go to sleep.”

         “Alright, officer~”

[flowerfan2]

Affinity - Ch. 6 (10.06)

McDanno, A03

A continuous story of season 10 episode codas.  Steve may describe their relationship as a dysfunctional marriage, but at some point, will he and Danny take a closer look at what it really could be?   

Chapter 6

“You’ve got to admit it, Danno, you can’t get this with an app.”  Steve is standing and stretching, looking out over the rocky landscape to the shining blue ocean.  

Danny shakes his head at Steve and pulls out his water bottle to take a long swig.  Steve had suggested the hike last night (“we’ve both got the day off – let’s go do something fun”) and Danny had quickly agreed.

The hike out to Ka’ena Point is long and hot, with absolutely no shade, but it’s ridiculously beautiful.  There’s something very satisfying about making it all the way out to Oahu’s westernmost tip of land.  It’s remote and wild and the only way to get there is to hike in (unless you somehow score a vehicle permit, which Steve just scoffs at, noting the danger to the degrading sand dune habitat).

When they set off early this morning Danny had thought that they had scored a perfect day for the trek, and for the most part they did, although it’s not as cool as he had hoped it would be. He did wear a hat, of course - no one on the island hikes Ka’ena without a hat – but it’s just a ball cap, not the floppy more protective get-up that Steve has on.  The skin on the exposed back of his neck is definitely regretting his choices.

Steve watches judgmentally as Danny pulls out a tube of sunscreen, but doesn’t say anything, at least not right away. Danny makes a show of lotioning up his arms first, as if he was just being extra cautious, but they’ve only been hiking for about forty-five minutes so it’s overkill even for his sensitive skin.

“Come on, let me help,” Steve finally says, taking the sunscreen out of Danny’s hand.  “We’ll be here all day otherwise.”

Steve zeros in on Danny’s neck immediately, smoothing in a generous amount of lotion with a surprisingly gentle touch.  Steve’s fingers are cool from his own water bottle, and Danny can’t help but shiver at little at the sensation.

 “You like that, huh?”  Steve says softly into Danny’s ear, and splays his cool hand out over the back of Danny’s neck.

 It’s oddly intimate, standing together in the bright sunlight on a quiet, dusty trail, nothing to see but sand dunes and rocky lava stretching out to the ocean.

 “Yeah,” Danny says softly, not wanting to break the spell.  “Feels good.”

 Steve leaves his hand there for another beat, until it’s no longer as shockingly icy, and then removes it slowly. He slathers more lotion on Danny’s neck, then comes around to stand in front of Danny and, smirking, reaches out and quickly dabs a bit on Danny’s nose.

 “Hey,” Danny steps back, surprised.

 Steve just grins.  “What?  I’m just helping out.”

 Danny can’t come up with a comeback that properly expresses “we were having a moment and then you acted like a child and confused me” so he just shoots a glare at Steve and continues walking along the trail.

 “You don’t want to show up at work with a sunburn,” Steve says, jogging to catch up with him.  “People might think you had done something social on your day off.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go? You can’t tell me you don’t appreciate being able to have any food you like delivered to your door.”

 “Yeah, but it’s not because I’m trying to avoid talking to people.  It’s just convenient.”

 “Convenient?  Sure, that’s part of it.  But you like taking a break from all the demands, too.  From all the people who are always asking you for stuff.”

 “People aren’t always asking me for stuff,” Steve says, but with less conviction.

 “Are you kidding?  Of course they are, all the time.  Remember last Thursday, when six different people asked you for help with things entirely unrelated to Five-0 in the course of one day, and you complained through an entire six-pack?”

 “That was different,” Steve says, and Danny glances at him.  Steve’s got his “I’m thinking my way out of this” face on, and Danny takes a minute to enjoy it.

 “How, precisely, was it different?”

 “Just, unusual, is all.  And if I can’t complain to you, who can I complain to?”

 Danny nods.  “Right.  And that is exactly why an app is helpful.  You weren’t fit to speak to anyone that night, excepting me, who has learned over the years how to handle a Steve McGarrett venting session.”

 “Oh yeah?  How do you handle it?”

 Danny grins over his shoulder at Steve. “With a six-pack of beer, obviously.”

 Steve huffs.  “Obviously.”

 They walk on in companionable silence, stopping every so often to look out over the water.  Sometimes you can see dolphins and even whales, but they haven’t seen either yet today.   Steve stops them at one point to look at what he thinks is a monk seal on the beach, but when they get closer they realize it was just a curvy rock.

 When they make it out to the point they wander around, looking around the point to see the rugged Waianae side of the island.  Danny uses his phone to take a few photos of the amazing view, and then they settle down for a snack.  Steve pulls a bag out of his pack and hands an apple to Danny.

 “Thanks.”

 There are more people on the trail now, and a few groups already at the point, reading the state park signs with information about the nesting seabirds and looking at the remains of the old lighthouse.  Two women with long dark hair and sturdy hiking boots walk past them, the taller one waving to Steve and Danny as they go by.

 “You know them?”  Danny asks.  

 “No.  And don’t try to set me up.” Steve says firmly.

 “Wow, okay, I wasn’t going to go there, but sure.”  Danny watches as the two women pause, one pointing out something to the other. “Just thought they looked familiar.”

 Steve looks at them and shrugs. “Reminds me of Tani and Quinn, maybe.”

 “Yeah, maybe.”  Danny thinks of the Tani and Quinn lookalikes the idiot you-tubers substituted for the real thing in their HPD recruitment video. Tani had taken the news with remarkable calm.  “The two of them make a good team.”

 Steve turns to Danny, looking pleased. “You think so?  I thought they might.  I hoped they would, anyway.”

 “Yeah, they do.”

 “It frees Junior up for other things, you know, not always being paired with Tani.”

 “Junior’s good with Adam, it’s true.” Danny wonders whether to mention the other thing Junior’s been good for lately, but Steve beats him to it.

 “I like having him along with us sometimes,” Steve says quietly.

 “Junior’s fast,” Danny says. “And he seems to have learned how to take down a perp from the McGarrett school of leap before you look.”

 “Oh, he’s looking,” Steve says. “Did you see him vault that chain-link fence and sideswipe the drug dealer last week?  He knows what he’s doing.”

 Danny nods.  “He does.  And he’s good at it.”  He breathes out slowly, focusing on the glittering ocean in front of them. “Takes a little bit of the pressure off of you.”

 He can feel Steve’s hesitance to respond, but the bubble they’ve been in all morning wins out.  

 “Yeah,” Steve says.  “It really does.”  Steve takes off his sunglasses and wipes them on his pants, looking a little glum.

 “Come on, you’re not that old yet,” Danny says, bumping his shoulder against Steve’s.  “Still got a few heroic take-downs left in you.”

 “Gray hair says otherwise,” Steve responds, rubbing at his scruff.

 “Lemme see,” Danny says, leaning in. It’s not as if he hasn’t noticed before, but it seems to make Steve relax to stick his chin out and let Danny commiserate.  “Yeah, definitely some grays.”

 “Not you, though,” Steve says, peering at Danny’s face and then looking up at him.  “Why don’t you have any gray hair?  You worry enough, you should have a head full of it.”

 Danny shrugs.  “Maybe I do, it’s just not as noticeable, you know, my hair’s lighter.”

 Steve squints and takes Danny’s chin in his hand, thumb and forefinger squeezing.  “I think you’d notice.”

 Danny lets his eyes fall shut as Steve tilts his face one way and then another.  “I shave closer than you.  Every day. So I can’t tell.”

 “On purpose?”  Steve asks, his breath puffing against Danny’s cheek.  “I mean, do you shave every day so you don’t have to see if there’s gray in there?”

 “No, of course not,” Danny responds, but when he opens his eyes Steve is looking right at him, and he gets the feeling he doesn’t buy it.

 “Why don’t you let it grow out a few days, let me see what’s there,” Steve says, rubbing his thumb along Danny’s jawline.

 Danny suddenly feels warm, and it’s not from the lack of shade.  Steve isn’t showing any signs of moving away from him, and he’s been stroking Danny’s chin for far longer than can be explained away by their somewhat contrived conversation about scruff.

 “Steve?”  he asks.  “Do you, um, do you ever think about…?”

 “Yes, Danny?”  Steve’s voice is low, and Danny sees Steve’s eyes flicker down to his lips and back up again.  He’s going to kiss me, Danny thinks.  Or I’m going to kiss him.  He closes his eyes, his breath stuttering in his chest, and gets ready to leap.

 “Hey, sorry to bother you guys.” a voice shatters the moment, and Steve’s hand drops from Danny’s face as they turn to see the dark-haired girl who had waved to them earlier.

 “No, no problem, what’s up?” Steve asks, while Danny blinks hard and wills his heart to stop pounding.

 “My friend scraped her knee up pretty bad, just wondering if you had a first aid kit or anything.”

 “Absolutely.”  Steve grabs his pack (which of course contains a comprehensively equipped first aid kit) and trots over to where the other woman is sitting, leaving Danny to stare after him.  He can’t believe the moment is over.  It doesn’t seem remotely fair.  He can still feel Steve’s hand on his face, feel his breath on his skin.

 Danny stands up and gathers their things, cursing inwardly at all the people that hone in on Steve’s relentless capacity to help, even when he isn’t wearing a badge.  But despite his annoyance, he knows something special just happened.   The memory of sitting in the blazing sun with Steve, gazing into each other’s eyes like teenagers, isn’t one he’s going to forget anytime soon.  

[photolover82]

The Masked Singer Season 3 Group A Predictions (Episode 1)

Hey my lovely people of Tumblr. I know I have been MIA for a while, but I am back just in time for the season 3 premiere of The Masked Singer, yesterday right after a small little game probably nobody knows about called The Super Bowl haha... Anyways, this season, the format is a bit different just like my posts... The 18 masks are separated into 3 groups of 6, labeled A,B, and C, that will be facing off tournament style. We will be seeing group A for 3 weeks until the 6 masks become 3 and the same for the other 2 groups until the group is cut in half, leaving us with 9 masks. So, last night we were introduced to group A, consisting of Robot, Kangaroo, Miss Monster, Turtle, Llama, and White Tiger. As always, here are my predictions (with photos, making it more fun ofc): 

Wait a second... Before I do so, let me ***SPOILER ALERT*** talk first about the eliminated constant, who is ***DRUMROLL PLEASE- warning it’s a spoiler*** 

THE ROBOT 

Ok so I am not gonna lie, I am kind of sad about this elimination. I really loved the costume and him as a whole (who I will reveal later, lemme warn you it’s a spoiler). Even though I dd enjoy his performance, you can tell the costume was super heavy for him to handle and he was focusing too much on staying in character and the choreography that his voice suffered a bit. However, I am still sad that he is leaving, I wish he could have stayed... but all the performances were amazing so I guess it makes sense. Anyway, that means that he was unmasked... and revealed as ***DRUMROLL PLEASE****

LIL WAYNE 

So, I kind of knew this based on his voice, but nevertheless I was still shocked that he would do this show. He is probably one of the biggest names the Masked Singer has ever had so far. This reveal didn’t disappoint... oh and guest judge Jaime Foxx’s reaction to it was hilarious af!

NOW TO THE PREDICTIONS OF THE REMAINING FIVE* 

*Note these are not set in stone and some are subject to change, the ones with a question mark after the name I guessed are the ones I am not completely sure about 

1. The Kangaroo 

My Guess: Jordyn Woods? 

Ok so this mask was a very interesting one to me. At first, when I heard her clues and her voice, I was like hmm voice sounds familiar but who is this, I cannot put my finger on how I know this voice. I commented this on the Kangaroo’s YouTube video and someone replied to me saying this is Jordyn Woods and I decided to rewatch the clues and the performance and I cannot get it out of my head that it is her even though both Jenny McCarthy and the people over at Entertainment Tonight think it is Jordan Sparks (whose voice doesn’t match up to the Kangaroo): 

In the clue package, she said that she did some things on her own accord that put her in bad light with the press, which is an allude to the whole thing with Tristan Thompson. 

She also said she lost somebody who held her family together and she did lose her father in 2017. 

I have no idea that she sang, but the tone of her singing voice sounds like her speaking voice. 

2. The Turtle 

My Guess: Jesse McCartney 

Alright, this mask is one of the ones I am 100% sure about. I grew up with Jesse McCartney and he was Justin Bieber before Justin Bieber was famous. So, I did some research and it all adds up I swear: 

In the clues, he said that he likes to go slow and steady and not as quick as his peers, who fizzled out. That could be talking about other boy bands who fizzled out in the late 90s which was when he began his career with a boy band as well, even though it wasn’t as popular as NSync or Backstreet Boys. 

Also, the surfboard in the clues can be referring to the Teen Choice Awards which he won back in 2007. 

His voice, man, I know his voice from a mile away. It took me back to Another Cinderella Story 

3. White Tiger 

My Guess: Rob Gronkowski aka Gronk 

Ok so this is another one that I am way too sure about. I actually know who Gronk is and I have heard of him before, but it wasn’t until I saw people’s reasoning behind why it is him that it makes so much sense:

The White Tiger is a very tall mask which makes the person in it very tall and Gronk is around 6 foot 5 inches so it makes sense 

In the clue package, there’s a mention of an award of clam chuckling which means he is from New England (he did play for the Patriots so there’s that) 

There is also a “5/3″ sign on the clues and he did win the 53rd Super Bowl

Also, in terms of his performance, he has sung the song Ice Ice Baby before this performance as well so it makes total sense. 

4. Llama 

My Guess: Drew Carrey? 

Ok, so I am not so sure about this one, but when I was watching ET’s Masked Singer after show, they kind of convinced me about this one even though I have a bit of doubts. Here are the things that I feel match up: 

In the clue package, the overlying theme was a radio show with the numbers 23.3 and the Drew Carrey Show ran for 233 episodes

A CD was shown in the clues with the name “Sounds of Seattle,” and he is the minority co-owner of the Seattle Sounders soccer team. 

As for the voice, I don’t know his voice, but he is a comedian so it would make sense that he is doing this for fun and laughs.

5. Miss Monster 

My Guess: Chaka Khan? 

Last but not least, we have Miss Monster, which is a female version of the season 1 winner, Monster, who ended up being T-Pain. My initial thought was that whoever was under that mask is related to T-Pain in some way, like worked with him or something. Chaka Khan did present an award to T-Pain so there’s a relation there, but I feel like these clues make me believe it’s Chaka Khan even though people are saying Tina Turner: 

In the clue package, there was a key labeled fun, which is a reference that Chaka Khan is the queen of funk. 

In the clues there was a #10 in the locker and Chaka Khan did win 10 Grammys 

Like omg and her voice is legit Chaka Khan... I am pretty convinced 

So there you have it, on Wednesday, I will be back with my recap on episode 2 and let’s see if I get these right... let me know what you all think. 

[ameliascorsones-blog]

Permanent December ▸ Chapter Three.

A/N: hey guys! sorry for the two week wait between chapters, i don’t think this is going to as long as I originally thought because I’m kind of eh about it and feeling weird about my writing,  but thank you so much for having patience as I’ve been sick and just out of my element. To be honest, this chapter didn’t go as I thought it was going to, but surprise, I guess??? Apparently the story is going quicker than I’d planned. enjoy !! lemme know what you think! also, I think this is pretty much the longest chapter I’ve written. NICE.

warnings: nothing really, owens gf is a bitch though and really doesn’t last long !! 

----------------------

“What the hell is she even doing here? She doesn’t need to be here, Owen! It’s not like I bring my ex boyfriend around you!” The words seemed so far away, they were like a haze quite honestly. It was hard to even open her eyes, she was exhausted. This was the first real sleep that the surgeon had gotten in months, maybe a couple of years. Since she and Owen had split after the teenager in their care had died of that overdose she had light sleeps at best. He always smelled like pine, and fresh air and it lulled her, just like it had that day hence her half sleeping with her head now resting on a pillow but she wouldn’t dare open her eyes. She wasn’t going to involve herself in this fight, it wasn’t her business even if they were talking about her.

“She is Leo’s mother, Carla! It’s something you’ll need to get over!”

A groan fell from the brunettes lips though it was quiet, her head burying further into the couch pillows. God, she just wanted to rest.

“It’s not her weekend, Owen and I don’t think part of her job is cuddling you! It’s her own fault if she’s missing out, she dumped you — you’re mine now.”

“What the hell am I? A possess  —”

No, that was it. They were going to wake Leo and Amelia wasn’t having that. So what if this wasn’t her house anymore, clearing her throat she sat up. “Shut up! Both of you!” The blonde in the room had daggers on her, Amelia wasn’t impressed with her. She didn’t even deserve to be talking at all and she was really pressing her luck. “Listen to me, Carla…”anger because suddenly she was completely awake. If Amelia was honest with herself she hadn’t seen red like this since Betty had called her a hag that one time. “You did this to my kid, you’re the reason he’s got a cast on his tiny arm, and he’s sleeping off the pain with meds they gave him at the doctor.. so do not start with your bullshit complaining. I’m here because he wants me here, and if you really want to fight with someone I’ll fight with you. Really, right here we can fight, and we will if you don’t shut your ridiculously skinny ass up because if you wake my kid I will take you down.” Maybe she was acting more tough than she really looked in her mom jeans and cardigan but it was the thought that counted. It wasn’t a lie either, she really would fight tooth and nail for her kid.

“Are you a psycho, drunk maybe? We all know you have problems with the bottle but I think if you’re craving you should just go get some instead of acting like a crazy bi —” It would take two seconds to hit her, she was like a good one and a half steps away but Carla was lucky, she was saved by the bell. That bell being Leo.

“Mama? Yous still here’s?”

And suddenly all the anger was gone, a tired smile on her features instead as she turned to face Leo. God, he looked so tired and confused. It wasn’t like she could blame him, this never happened, her and Owen never made an effort to truly hang out for Leo’s sake.

“Hi chunk, what’s up? You look so sleepy..”

Behind her as she watched Leo fidget she heard the quiet whispers of a breakup, and then Owen asking the blonde to leave. Confusion was swirling her brain but it didn’t matter because before she knew it, their sons lip was quivering and he burst into tears. It took her by surprise, Leo didn’t cry often but when he did it was usually because he was tired or something happened he didn’t like. Walking over to her son, she bent down to his height, picking him up with ease, it was then she realized. He’d peed and he was still tired. Damn it, this was going well. “I didn’t means to, mama!” It was loud, and right in her ear as she rocked him back and fourth, soothing sounds whispered back.

“I know you didn’t mean to, baby.. it’s okay. Daddy’ll change your sheets and we’ll get you cleaned up.  Try to take a few deep breaths, you don’t want to get sick.”

Owen was already heading toward the room to find new sheets, and she thanked god silently that he still knew her silent cues. Usually they tried not to allow Leo fits without some kind of time out, but there was no way she was giving him time out today, it was fair that he was upset, today had sucked. Instead she headed toward the bathroom, turned on the water and slipped his outfit of choice and got to washing, making sure his cast didn’t get an ounce of wet. After that, she wrapped him in the hooded towel that sat by the door, the only thing heard being his quiet sniffles. Still, the whole time that she was bathing Leo? All she could think about was how she ruined things for Owen again, they were friends. She should’ve just kept her mouth shut so that he stayed happy, especially after being the one to ruin his happiness in the first place.

———————-

Seven O’clock rolled around a lot faster than the four year old that was currently in both his parents care would’ve liked, and after a waffle sans the chocolate chips and more than two bed time stories, the little boy was back out, a smile shining on his face that the mother of the two surgeons hadn’t seen in a while. Leaning down, the brunette pressed a gentle kiss to Leo’s head and made sure he had his stuffed dog before tiptoeing from the room, leaving the door open a crack as she headed back down the hall to join Owen in the kitchen where he was cleaning up her mess as he always did.

“He’s out like a light, poor kid.. he’s had the worst day.”

There was a slight snort that followed and Amelia raised a brow as she leaned against wall. Owen hadn’t turned to face her or said a word through Leo’s dinner of waffles. Was he mad at her? The thought came back that she ruined his happiness and maybe she was right. Maybe he was pissed at her for even coming over, but it wasn’t like that she’d asked for the insults, right? “Good thing, it’s almost eight.” That was it as he set pieces of the waffle maker in the dishwasher and turned it on before beginning to wipe the counters with ease. A sharp response and that was all she got.

“What’s your deal? Are you upset with me or something, ‘cause I didn’t even do anything. It’s not my fault your girlfriend goes way too far, Leo’s more mature than her.” Of course she was instantly on the defence because she felt bad and when she felt bad? Things turned south fast and she either drank or did worse. Silence, she was met with absolute silence and just like day one she still could read him. “You are mad at me,” a scoff to follow as she stepped further into the room, closer to him because she knew that Leo was sleeping and she wasn’t about to wake him up, not like earlier.

“I’m not mad at you, Amelia. Good God, drop it.” Hanging the towel back where it had laid before, Owen stepped past her and from the room. Yet he knew she didn’t drop a single thing; remembered as he heard her gentle footsteps behind him and into the living room. “I said I’m not mad at you. I just can’t do this!”

It took her by surprise; Owen’s louder words. The last time that he’d raised his voice at her? The night that she told him she was leaving. For a moment she almost took a step back, but then he turned to face her, his features guilty and instead she took a step closer. There was something in the air, something different than there usually was. “Do what?” She wondered softly, a brow raising in thought. Sit with her, maybe order some take out like she was thinking of offering? For some reason it made her nervous, caused her stomach to clench like it hadn’t since that morning when she’d heard of something wrong with Leo. But instead of answering her, the ginger shook his head and turned away from her. It was all it took for her to close the distance between them, a hand reaching out to clasp his wrist. “Do what, Owen? What can’t you do?” Was he going to have an episode or something? She couldn’t be sure, maybe he just needed space, she didn’t know him like that any longer. “Please talk to me.. Do what?”

Their conversations had never been so soft, her voice never soft. Honestly, she usually lost her cool pretty fast but this was different, something was causing her heart to beat a little harder in her chest, stomach to twist. Like when she first caught feelings for him, but no, it wasn’t that. She refused to believe that, even if all of the signs were pointing to it not to mention the fear of losing him. The brunette had figured they’d had a nice day together, even if it had been the slightest bit awkward at first and through all the bad stuff so she was more than confused at the anguish on his features as he turned to face her and she couldn’t help but swallow nervously at their close proximity.

“Be your friend, cuddle and whatever else. I can’t do it, it hurts and even if you’re over it, I’m not.”

Quite honestly the tension in the air had suddenly thickened at his words and she opened and closed her mouth. What was she supposed to say? Hand moved from his wrist to his bicep and the neurosurgeon shook her head. “No, that’s not fair. Please don’t say that, okay? I know that I screwed up, that I hurt you but we’re friends.. for Leo.. we’re friends and its good. I was just tired today, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.” Why she was pleading with him was beyond her because she never begged but it was all she could do as her eyes burned with the most uncomfortable tears she’d felt in her life. “You and Leo? You’re all I have,” it was embarrassing that she hadn’t moved on from their family but she couldn’t help herself.  Wiping a stay tear from her own cheek, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and inhaled softly as his own eyes softened.

“Amelia, hang on. It’s not because of you. It’s because of me, I don’t think that you realize how well I slept today even if it was just for a while. I haven’t slept that well since you left, and even when Carla came in here screeching? It felt good like it should always be happening.”

For some reason it felt like a magnet was pulling her closer, wet cheeks the last thing on her mind as she chewed at her lip. Heart beat harder as the words tumbled from her exes lips, and with the way her palms got sweaty, she knew it wasn’t a good idea but still she couldn’t help the way she leaned up, nose brushing against his stubble. This was why they didn’t hang out together alone, there was too much sexual tension that she hadn’t realized before now. Inhaling sharply at his scent, a hand trailed up his arm and to his neck tugging him down closer.

“Owen..” His name a breath oh her lips before she shook her head. “It’s a bad idea.” Who was she trying to convince? Herself or him, she wasn’t sure even though she was the one pulling him closer to her.  The truth was, no matter how many dates she went on, no one had made her feel as special as Owen had just two seconds before. He slept better with her and the thought made her light up inside. Yet of course she wouldn’t admit that, pretending that she was only lonely instead.

A nod followed and the ginger pulled back from the other, hearing a groan escape her lips as she clasped her other hand around his neck to meet the one already there. “It’s a bad idea.. but I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

There was the Amelia that he was used to, the one who smirked just a little and she had him as putty in her hands. “We shouldn’t, it’s not healthy for Leo.” he managed softly though he leaned just enough for his nose to brush against hers.

Two pairs of lips were so close to touching and Amelia was craving it, craving Owens touch for the first time in two years. “I said he’s out. He won’t even hear us, plus as much excitement as he had today, we deserve some too. I haven’t had any excitement in a long time, no strings, no big deal, just for tonight…” The double innuendo wasn’t missed on him, and a soft laugh escaped at her gentle convincing even though he didn’t need it. Not really, he wanted Amelia as much as she wanted him. Was it because of the emotional day they’d had? He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter as his lips came to crash against hers, no hesitation as she kissed him back. With a muttered thank god, he pulled back for permission and she gave a simple nod as he picked her up, legs tangling around his waist as he pressed teasing kisses to her neck.

The way her breath hitched was the only thing on his mind as he carried her to the bedroom that used to be theirs and not how this whole thing would just make it all worse.

[militant-holy-knight]

Benioff and Weiss Were Always Hacks: You Only Noticed Now

Or why you should be worried for the future Star Wars movies made by them

(Disclaimer: this blogpost contains spoilers for Game of Thrones)

With only two episodes left for the series to reach it’s conclusion and the announcement for future Star Wars movies in the horizon made by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss (henceforth referred to as D&D for simplicity sake), not many fans seem to be excited about it as they should due to the creative choices taken in regards to the final season of Game of Thrones. Speaking as a GoT fan, I used to enjoy the show a lot and I believe it reached it’s peak on Season 4 and started to go went downhill on Season 5. If D&D were in charge from the beginning what happened?

D&D’s job was always to adapt the book series by George R. R. Martin, which means any merit to the show’s writing can be attributed largely to Martin while D&D were only fit for it to make it work into a tv show - which is still laudable in it’s own right because there are things in the books that still wouldn’t translate too well into the show. In any case, they did their job well from Season 1 to Season 4 which adapted the first trilogy in the series. Even though there are still five books in total released at the time, Season 5 is where they started to run out of material to adapt because some storylines didn’t find their proper conclusion and they needed to come up with their own unique deviations.

Season 5 is considered by many fans to be the low point in the series because of it’s extremely low pacing and controversial liberties taken: the biggest ones have to be the Dorne subplot because that meant axing popular book character Arianne Martell, Stannis Baratheon turning irredeemable evil and paying with his life and Sansa’s marriage to Ramsay Snow leading to her rape, which is still a very hot button among the fandom to this day (and understandably so). Season 5 did have some moments like Hardhome which showed the strength of the true villain of the series, the Night King, the leader of the White Walker invasion who brings winter with him. He is the Thanos-like menace who is teased since the very start of the show with the very first scene opening with a White Walker killing some Night Watch’s rangers and warning us about the danger he represents.

Season 6 fixed some of these problems by giving a more dynamic pacing and build it up with the Battle of the Bastards as the climatic encounter instead of something completely anti-climatic like Season 5′s finale where Stannis Baratheon’s forces were liquidated by the Boltons offscreen. But still, it was an entire season wasted to fix another one’s problems and it still had some individual problems. 

And then Season 7 came along and it all went to waste. I wouldn’t say it was as bad as Season 5 because at least shit happened and it wasn’t boring, but it was still full of groan-worthy moments like trying to force some romance between Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen which doesn’t work because they have no chemistry and they are related by blood, curing Jorah Mormont who has been infected with a dangerous disease that will turn him into a snow zombie by simply cutting out the infected area, and of course lest we forget the Wight Hunt in Episode 6 “Beyond the Wall” which broke all suspension of disbelief. Lemme sum it up for you what happens in that episode so you can get the idea and let me put up a map so you can get it from reference.

The heroes come up with the idea to capture an Wight and bring it South to convince Cersei to from a truce.

The travel by boat to the Wall from their base on Dragonstone.

After reaching the Wall, they walk into the land beyond it to find a wight.

They find one and send one of their members back to ask reinforcements having to sprint a indeterminate distance.

The team gets surrounded by the Night King’s army in a frozen lake for a indeterminate amount of time.

The allies at the Wall send a raven back to Dragonstone requesting help.

Daenerys summons her dragons to fly to the land beyond the Wall to rescue the heroes.

They are fighting to the last against the advancing horde of the Night King just before Daenerys arrives in a triumphant moment to save them.

And all of this happens like... Within a hour apparently. Several days should have taken place between this exchange but time moves at the speed of the plot, but D&D seem to be relying on emotional torque to get viewers to ignore all internal logic and be mindblown by the crowning moments of awesome. And this is the core issue with their writing.

D&D write their scenes the same way they film sex scenes apparently, hoping that the emotional moments will make the audience be carried over. Thing is... I realized this after thinking up about many moments in the past. Hardhome was one such example in Season 5 to make up for its abhorrent dullness and even Season 6 wasn’t safe from this. For example, remember how Rickon Stark died just so he could provoke Jon Snow to act irrationally and spur him into conflict? Why didn’t Rickon run in zig-zag when Ramsay began firing arrows at him? Why did he run into a straight line? Did these writers not watch Prometheus to learn their lessons from it’s mistakes? This problem was carried over in Season 8 and amplified a lot in the Long Night. Many people pointed out the several military blunders made by the protagonists when fighting against the Night King’s army.

I could talk about the moronic choice to film everything in absolute darkness and make it impossible to see shit.

I could talk about how idiotic it was to waste your cavalry against the enemy bulwark.

I could talk about how they didn’t create trenches with tar or use fire for more effective manner against the undead.

But I’d rather talk about that moment.

Arya killing the Night King.

You know at first I was okay with that because:

I wasn’t being a fan of Jon Snow in a long time.

Arya wasn’t a Mary Sue, had skills that justified her, so I could buy it better.

But the more I thought about it, more I came to the realization that it was a wrong choice all along.

Arya never had any investment in killing the Night King. She was a character defined by a list of people she wanted to kill including the Freys, Cersei, Joffrey and others.

Arya was trained as an assassin yes... But her training in Season 5 and 6 was very lackluster. She spent some time doing menial works, impersonating some people and trying to spill some poison on someone’s drink. She never learned invisibility, teleportation or any other cool shit.

And most importantly... Melisandre predicting that Arya would shut down “blue eyes” way back when they met in Season 3. If she sensed she was always destined to kill the Night King why did she ever support Stannis? Why did she even support Jon Snow? She even referred to him as the Prince that was Promised. Some fans can try to spin this as much as they want, but it breaks the plot retroactively very hard.

The actress herself didn’t think she deserved it

Of course all of these things were ignored by a large part of the fanbase, more specifically the “woke” crowd because YAS QUEEN SLAY. Little did they know that the very next episode would force them to eat a real shit sandwich when “The Last of the Starks” seemed to turn the narrative against Daenerys Targaryen by turning her into the Mad Queen, killing her handmaiden Missandei and setting up Jon to be the next King of Westeros. Not helping matters is that a series of leaks not yet confirmed as of the time of writing were released prior to the episode (but I personally feel they were legitimate due to some specific things but that is not the point) which sent many Daenerys fans into panic mode.

Speaking as someone who really doesn’t like Daenerys Targaryen, I can actually sympathize with them at some level because this shift appears to be very sudden specially now that the authors favored her more until this very moment. Some viewers can argue that there were always signs like her burning the Tarlys for refusing to bend the knee, which I personally took issue with before but it never really came across as the sign of an insane ruler since she offered very valid rebuttals. It all seemed like the plot was tailored to take her side no matter what and I considered Dany a Mary Sue. But just because they seem to be turning her into a villain now, it doesn’t make me hate the story any less.

Now... I spent an inordinate amount of time bitching about Game of Thrones and if you are an Star Wars fan that doesn’t know anything about it, you might be lost to anything I am writing. Well I needed to give an proper context to both GoT and SW fans since those seem to overlap now and give you a warning because Star Wars seems to be more lost now than ever. D&D were never particularly good writers, they were incoherent about continuity, care more about spectacle over substance and seem to share a thing about subverting the audience’s expectations like a certain Ruin Johnson who succeeded in completely ruining a franchise like there was no tomorrow. The key difference between D&D and Ruin is that the duo doesn’t share the same flippant attitude or picking up fights with fans on Twitter - on the contrary, D&D understand the power of fanservice even if it means daggling the metaphorical shining keys in front of the audience. 

As we come close to Game of Thrones conclusion, I have a feeling that nobody will truly come out satisfied with it should the story take the direction that we are really dreading. I’ve seen interviews about how Emilia Clarke sounds really sad and deflated, seemed like she was really disappointed with how the show ended. Whatever happens, the blame can be laid on the feet of Benioff and Weiss for their frankly baffling creative decisions. This season has been disappointing through and through with two or three episodes being needlessly long and filler to booth and to make matters worse, it was supposed to end earlier than 10 episodes. Why did they need to rush it and yet fill the series with so much dead air?

Now can you imagine a Star Wars movie made by them? With all these things I listed? The next trilogy is already dated, we don't know if it's D&D or Ruin Johnson yet. We are talking about a couple of writers that have no sense of realistic scale, continuity or logic, but rely on cheap emotional tricks to have the audience invested until they begin thinking about it. I would laugh until I was sick if this season turns everyone against those two fuckwads that Disney changes their mind about putting them in charge. If the world was a just place, this is what would happen at least.

[dynowrites]

Could I pretty please request a Sonny x Reader with the same senario as the episode with Sonny and Amanda where they almost kiss, except its the Reader insted of Amanda? And insted of the Reader having a onenight stand its the readers brother that he sees when Sonny brings her breakfast, and inturn he gets jealous and brushes her off then Reader confronts him and they end up confessing to eachother! (Fluffy and long) Thanks so much!

I may have shipped Rollisi if they actually kissed… but who am I kidding. I dislike Amanda for a few reasons. Here you go, love!

You joined SVU the same week as Nick and Amanda. You had transferred from West Virginia and when your current case had you going back, you were excited. Especially since it took you to your hometown. You were partners with Sonny since the moment he joined the squad. You had a crush on Sonny, and you couldn’t pin point the exact moment that you had fallen for him. As you two were driving down the road, you were basically bouncing in your seat when you saw the sign of your hometown come into view.

“You know anything about this bar?” Sonny had asked you. You had slowly turned to him and gave a quick shrug of your shoulders.

“I used go there with friends, occasionally the SVU squad I was in here. I haven’t been here in years.” You had said as you and Sonny continued to drive into town until you found the motel. You had offered to just share a room since it would cost less but Sonny had suggested you two have separate rooms. Once you two had gotten dressed and gotten some dinner, you two headed to The Barrel.

Walking into the bar, it felt almost like you had never left West Virginia. The smell of all the cigarettes and alcohol brought back memories from a few years ago you had almost forgotten. It was like you got lost in your thoughts until you felt someone grab your arm and gently pull you. You noticed it was Sonny who had taken you over to a table where Chuck was, the man you two would talk about Heather with. Once he left to use the restroom after consuming three shots and two beers, you began to look around. That bartenders changed and you sent to see if you could get information. After a few minutes of talking, you returned to Sonny.

“So, how does it feel to be back home?” Sonny asked before taking a sip of his beer. You laughed some and stared at the bottle in your hand.

“I miss it honestly. My friends and I used to come here once a month after we graduated college. Once they started settlin’ down, the less I’d see ‘em until it was just me coming by myself.” You had spoken before taking a sip of your beer.

“I came here for my twenty first birthday, alright? I was getting free drinks all night from guys that were at least twice my age. Lemme tell ya, I had never been as hungover in my life than the day after. I threw up in my friend’s car, in her bushes outside of her house and her kitchen sink before I passed out on the couch, one heel on, the birthday sash around my arm and my crown just barely on.” You had thought back of that night. Sonny smiled before he laughed. God, that smile and that laugh you could fall in love with over and over again. 

Soon, Sonny had gone to go check on Chuck while you looked around the area. Another around of shots had come, this time from the bartender. You just stared at the two shots that you had yet to consume before you noticed some guy yelling at your partner. You instantly got out of your chair and watched as the male pushed Sonny against the table you were at and swing his fist. When Sonny was dealing with the man that was a few inches taller than him, you were dealing with an older dude who picked up a chair from your table. Instantly, your fist connected to the side of his head as you went to help Sonny. 

After a few minutes of fighting, you and Sonny were finally pulled apart from the man and him and his girlfriend left. You sighed as you finished that shots, or what was left of them, on the table before you and Sonny left. Honestly, your adrenaline was pumping after that and you could feel the alcohol finally kicking in. As you and Sonny laughed and talked before getting to your motel door, you turned to look at him. Your cheeks turned a slight pink as you watched Sonny lean against the door.

“Y’know, you’re one hell of a partner.” Sonny had said. You just stood there and stared at him and he slowly got closer and closer to you. You knew exactly what was going on, he was coming for a kiss. The problem was you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or if he truly liked you like you liked him. You awkwardly turned away and bit your lip.

“I should get to bed. I’ll see ya in the morning.” You said as Sonny just watched you. He chuckled some as he turned and began to walk back to his room while you unlocked you.

Once in your room, you felt like an idiot. Why did you not just kiss him? A sigh escaped your lips as you heard your phone vibrating from your purse. As you walked over, you smiled at the name that had come up, your older brother. You had quickly answered it and told him where you were so you guys could spend some much needed time. Once you both had waken up the next morning, you had informed your brother that you were most likely leaving to head back to New York. You had walked him to the door and said your goodbyes before he left.

The entire drive from West Virginia to New York was extremely quiet. Sonny rarely talked unless he asked you about the directions to get back to the city. Once you two were back at the precinct, you had moved to sit at your desk and Sonny went off to do whatnot. You were trying to figure out what happened, since last night you almost kissed and now he’s completely ignoring you. After a good few hours, you had enough of it. You had grabbed your partner and taken him to one of the interrogation rooms and closed the door behind you.

“What is your problem!?” You asked in an extremely annoyed tone. Sonny watched you and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nothing. I want to get this case done. Can I get back to work now?” Sonny had said instantly. You just stood there and watched him, seeing the pain in his blue eyes.

“Is this about last night? About how I turned away from the kiss?” You had asked. Sonny just stood there and quickly shook his head as he looked away from you.

“If you had a guy back home, you should have told me. I wouldn’t have wasted so much time tryin’ getcha.” Sonny had said. You had connected the dots and realized what was going on.

“Sonny, that was my brother. He had heard that I was home due to the bar fight. Probably someone that knew the both of us. Are you saying that you like me?” You had responded back. Sonny realized how much of an idiot he was and slowly turned away from you. It took the male a moment before slowly turning to look at you.

“Yeah. I realized that I liked ya when we went to get a few drinks together after a few two months ago. I just thought you weren’t interested or you didn’t like me.” Sonny said. You laughed softly as you grabbed his hands tightly in yours.

“Dominick Carisi Jr, of course I like you. I didn’t know if the kiss last night was the alcohol talking or not, since we both had a bit to drink. This time, I know it’s not because of the alcohol.” You had said as your had gotten up on your tip toes to press your lips against his. Sonny moved his hands from yours and slowly wrapped his arms around your body. There was a quick knock at the door before it opened.

“When you two are done, Barba needs to see us at his office.” Fin had spoken. Your cheeks were red from being caught by your Sergeant. Once you two had pulled away, you looked up at Sonny.

“So…”

“So, dinner at my house after work tonight?” Sonny had asked. You smiled some as you quickly nodded your head.

“I’d like that.” you said as you turned and soon left the interrogation room, Sonny right behind you has you gathered your stuff before heading to a car to drive to Barba’s office.

[dcuglybooks]

A short story collection featuring stories that are either mean and ugly like that turd that thudded you in school, or sweet and cuddly as a little gloomy kitten; or puppy if you’re more of a dog person.

Stories Christians don't have to read backwards. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LGB4HGN/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glc_fabc_UIpaGb2VC4BBX

Here’s a free short.

WAP: WEIRD ASS PHANTOM

“There’s a ghost in this house. There’s a ghost in this house.”

Linda was getting tired of the shit. Every day at exactly noon her alarm would play this shitty overdubbed version of a Cardi B song. The original song wasn’t her cup of tea to begin with, this new version that sounded like drunk karaoke was even worse. Most times she would be sitting there and the sound of a drunk sorority girl would make her jump out of her skin. She couldn’t even find the song or alarm in her phone to do anything about it.

Linda and her girlfriend, Melissa, moved into this old house last month, the rent was so damn cheap; landlord said it was because it used to be a party house so he never charged much. The logic didn’t make any sense but at $300 a month and a mile outside of town, how were they not going to sign that lease?

“I think,” spoke Melissa one night while watching her phone float around taking pictures in the air, “the reason rent is so cheap is because it’s haunted.”

“You think?” Replies Linda while snatching the phone out of the air. “I just wish this damn ghost would stop posting pictures of our bedroom to our Instagram accounts. Did you see the caption last night?”

“Oh you mean ‘Pumpkin spice is almost here. Basic bitches, rejoice!’ The comma is what set me off. Why did she put a comma in that? Why bother? It wasn’t even used correctly I don’t believe.”

“We’re being haunted by a basic bitch.”

“I think that may be offensive.”

“I hear it all the time, it just...... yeah ok maybe. I guess I shouldn’t assume this ghost is a bad stereotype, I won’t say it again.”

“True, this girl may have more going for her than just these annoying social media posts from our accounts”

“Remember the mirror though?”

Last week as the couple were eating dinner they heard a clatter and crash from the upstairs bathroom. Running full speed ahead up the stairs and around the corner Linda saw all their makeup in a pile in the empty sink. She could see a pair of red lipsticked lips floating in the air while eyeliner was seemingly drawn onto the air in a cat eye shape. She sighed and said “What now?” These types of things had been going on since the first night so at this point it was old hat.

The lipstick went to the mirror and wrote “I am finally going to kill you.” Linda took a step back prepared to flee until the lipstick wrote below it “JK LOL YOUR FACE” and then the face floated off into the wall leaving behind the makeup like some sort of painting.

The first time anything strange had happened, a pizza showed up at the front door; delivery for an Amanda Perkins. The girl who moved out recently, they took the pizza because it was already paid for and assumed the girl had made a mistake. They were sure of this as they sat and watched old re-runs of home improvement and munched away; then they noticed the slice floating over in the air above the recliner and the chewed up pile on the seat. They screamed and ran outside, Melissa forgot her phone inside and Linda’s made a ding from inside her pocket.

“Hey I know this is really weird, it’s weird AF for me too. We can make it work though, ladies. I swear I won’t bother you, I already cleaned up my mess.”

They inched inside looking around like scared toddlers and sure enough the mess was cleaned up. After that they just rolled with the weirdness.

“Are you sure Amanda left, Mr. Morris?” Linda was on the phone with the landlord.

“Yes. Positive. Why would you think she still lived there?”

“There’s been..... some things.”

“Drunk college girl, she probably stumbled home one night and forgot she went home for the summer. Its no deal. Not big or small.”

“Are you absolutely positive there is no deal? Big, small, medium, or slightly larger than medium but not quite large?”

“What do you think? I know her ex and he killed her and then buried her body in the basement so now her ghost is haunting you. This is why I charge so cheap rent! No. I don’t believe what you think. I will be going.”

He hung up without ever realizing Linda never once mentioned any of that other stuff. Linda thought, Why does he talk like that?

Turned out that’s exactly what had happened. After doing a quick google of the ghosts name they found out she never came home. After a quick Facebook search they found her ex boyfriends page. After some scrolling they found a post that said “Amanda and I broke up again and I am going to kill her.” The post had six likes and four comments.

“Get her bro!”

“Bitch ain’t appreciate you anyhow bet!”

“U need any ting lemme no”

“Fuk gr8 ass tho. Mind if I hit her up?”

These people were insane. Did not a single one of these people see the part about wanting to kill her? Actually PLANNING to kill her.

The police found it interesting enough to look into it, they found reason to arrest the guy. After a long court trial Amanda’s ex-boyfriend, Brent, was sentenced to life in prison for murder. The body was exhumed and buried at a family plot. The rent got more expensive because Mr. Morris was in prison for helping cover a murder so his aunt took over.

You win some you lose some.

Amanda did not leave though. The ghost hung out still to this day four months later. The social media posts kept going. The pizzas kept getting ordered, only now from their pockets because Amanda’s parents closed her bank account. Amanda was irritated about that, she was cut off from her parents money and stuck living with two other people.

Linda and Melissa tried to make her feel as comfy as possible, they left a pen and notebook in each room so she could communicate with them. Usually the notes were always about how bored she was being a ghost and how if she tried to leave the house it got all bright and she started floating. Amanda was “for real afraid of flying” as she wrote on a notebook.

Amanda’s behavior got strange at some point. She began doing things like drawing stick figures on the bathroom floor in shampoo, she would wrap herself in toilet paper and roll down the stairs creating the illusion of her body disappearing, the worst of it was when she would lay in bed with Linda and Melissa startling them when she pulled the blanket. It was like living with an invisible insane person. Either her mind was slipping or she was just a strange character. She would turn the TV on and watch the same episode of “King of Queens” for ten hours straight while they were at work. They wondered what would happen if they deleted it from the DVR but didn’t want to face that at all.

The alarm kept going off too; Linda had to hand out awkward smiles and apologies when it happened at work or in public. One time she had to apologize to a middle aged woman when it went off in the cereal aisle while shopping and her son started singing the lyrics to the original version as loud as his voice would allow. The mother gasped at all the words her kid knew and knocked a shelf of maple syrup over. The bottles burst all over the floor, Linda tried to help clean it up but she was shooed away by a guy with a mop bucket and a face that said he wanted her dead as shit.

They asked her multiple times what they could do to get her to move along, to which she would always write “sno-cone” on her notebook with no explanation.

Linda woke up sick on a Tuesday and didn’t go to work, she came into the bathroom and seen a note written in lipstick on the mirror that read “Baby, all my life I will be driving home to you.” She blushed, Melissa had left her a really sweet note on the mirror. When Melissa got home she surprised her with a bout of some of the best sex they had ever had, despite Linda being sick she felt overcome with love for her partner.

“Wow. What did I do to deserve that?” Asked Melissa after.

“The note.”

“Oh yes. The note, got you good with that one. So, if it was so good mind telling me what it said?”

“You know what it said!”

“Of course I do.”

She didn’t know what it said. She had no clue, but she wasn’t going to raise a stink about what just happened. No way, no how. She got up and went to use the restroom, as she sat on the toilet she looked up and saw the words on the mirror.

“LINDA!” She yelled. “I DIDNT LEAVE THAT! THATS THE GODDAMN LYRICS FROM THE THEME SONG FOR ‘THE KING OF QUEENS!’”

Linda didn’t know what to say; she shook her head and internally accepted defeat on this one. The couple didn’t talk about it again, the ends justified the means on this one they silently agreed; thanks Amanda.

The trio had carried on life like this for months, seven to be exact, when they heard a bang and a crash from the front door. Assuming this was yet again Amanda doing some goofy nonsense they ran downstairs to clean up the mess only to find a man standing their pointing a shotgun at them.

“You’re the dykes who got me locked up, aintcha?” Said a freshly broke out of prison Brent. “You know, usually I’m cool with like loving whoever and like rights and like equality and shit but tonight is not your night. Go sit.”

They were tied together on the couch while Brent sat channel flipping on the TV.

“Amanda is still here,” spoke Linda “she’s a ghost, at some point she’s going to help us and you’ll probably get hurt. She’s probably posting pictures on Instagram right now so she’s a little busy, but I promise when she finds out she’ll come running.”

“No she won’t.”

“Ok? So you think her post is going to get a ton of likes then?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Ugh are you generic ‘I beat my girlfriend’ guy number seventy or not?”

“Not.”

“Then why is she afraid of you?”

“I’m bigger than her…… I guess?”

“She’s a ghost.”

“I’m still bigger.”

​“How can you be bigger than an incorporeal being with no mass or weight?”

​“See, she doesn’t way anything.”

“You didn’t think any of this through did you?”

“Not one bit.”

“It shows. Why did you kill her?”

“Hey I’ve never been what you’d call a planner. I killed her because she broke up with me for the fiftieth time that year and all my friends were giving me a hard time about how I would just crawl back to her. I said ‘can’t crawl back to her if I kill her!’ They all thought it was funny so I did it.”

“Ah………Makes perfect sense to me.”

“A guy has to watch his reputation, right?”

They sat there watching late night infomercials in silence for another half hour. Linda nudged Melissa as she seen a phone floating around taking pictures of a floating can of soup.

Of all the ghosts in the world, why was theirs like this?

“Brent, there’s some stuff on the DVR” Linda told him.

“Good I hate infomercials. Oh yuck, ‘The King of Queens.’ I hate that show, Amanda loved it. That fat fucking heifer guy gets to make it with that babe every night. Fucking loser ass UPS guy”

They could see the phone slowly lower and start hovering towards Brent. They let him rant.

“And that Deacon guy, what a fucking idiot, he leaves his wife at one point which is silly because she’s so fucking hot.”

The can of soup hovered behind him.

“That guy that dates the ugly chick from the bowling alley, now I can’t tolerate him at all.”

The soup can shook with rage.

“He ends up living with the other guy right? Like what the fuck? Are they like a thing or not a thing? I didn’t pay enough attention. I did pretend to though to get some action every now and again, show fucking sucks though. Here I’ll do you guys a favor.”

As he deleted the episode from the DVR the can came slamming down into his head.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

They heard a voice yell “MY BONES ARE GETTING WEARY! MY BACK IS GETTING TIGHT!” As the can of cream of chicken turned Brent’s head into cream of Brent’s brains.

After the violence stopped the notebook hovered in front of them and said “Sorry, I was on TikTok, I’ll clean this up tho.”

Much like the first night that’s exactly what happened. They were untied and they watched as the mess was cleaned up. Brent’s body floated over to the ground and the can of soup was laid on the table. The phone floated over to Melissa who dialed 911.

After the legal mess was cleaned up they decided that having Amanda around maybe was not such a bad idea. No one could really kill them, it was like having a built in security system. They did eventually add a third line to their cell plan and let her set up social media for herself as a reclusive twenty something who couldn’t leave the house due to a skin condition.

Her pages were ok, they didn’t get much interaction or followers but Amanda was happy. Sometimes people would say they wanted to hang out with her because they lived close, Amanda just said her skin condition was contagious AF. No one ever thought to say “Hey, what exactly IS your medical condition?” People could be so polite sometimes.

Christmas morning as they all opened gifts Linda and Melissa cried as Amanda opened the complete series collection of “The King of Queens.” The three sat on the couch together that evening and watched all of season one.

Baby all my life I will be driving home to you.

The next day they heard a familiar song. Together they both smiled and thought that yes, there was a ghost in this house.