ok guys so you know how there's an astro knights book, right?

well, I just so happen to have a copy that i may or may not have annotated

and on page 110, Sir Gawain states that he crash landed on the ice planet weeks ago. Which, one, how the hell did homeboy survive on only fish, two, how did nobody else rise up to the task of rescuing the princess at that point, and three, that means Elyana was with bard for weeks. poor her

It's not even specified how many weeks, just at least two

i'm not even going anywhere with this that's literally all i have to say

Hello! I’ve missed your fics so much lately omg. I wanted to make a request for rafe Cameron…again. I love when rafe becomes super protective over the reader and I was wondering if you could write a fic about someone breaking in the house or something and overprotective rafe appears or something like that. I hope you’re doing great let me know if you like the idea.

For as long as we live

Rafe Cameron x reader

Thank you so much for the request and sorry that it took me decades to write this. I really liked writing this and i hope you like it<3

Summary: Someone breaks into the house when y/n is alone. Now she needs Rafe more than anything.

Warnings: guns, swearing, violence, EXTREMLY FLUFFY ENDING THO

I'm laying on Rafe's bed, scrolling on my phone. All of the Camerons- except Rafe- have been out of town for the whole week. So, me and my boyfriend have stayed in Tanneyhill together, spending nights curled up on the couch watching scary movies or laughing in the kitchen making pancakes for breakfast. I smile when i look at the picture i took of us yesterday. Rafe is pressing his cheek against mine, making me laugh. Right now he is out working, closing some deal for Cameron Development. He should be home any second now. I roll on the bed, sighing heavily. I'm so bored without him. I've been alone for maybe 3 hours, but it feels like 3 days. Finally, i hear the door open downstairs. I drop my phone on the bed and almost jump up. I run the stairs down, ready to give my boyfriend a big kiss for working so hard. "Hi sweetheart!" i smile and turn the corner to the door. I freeze. It's not Rafe.

My heart skips a beat as i look at the man. He is holding a phone on his ear, and some weird metal thing in his other hand. My thoughts race so fast, that my body doesn't keep up. He picked the lock with that thing. Who is he? Why is he here? It feels like the time has stopped, but in reality i've only stood there for two seconds.

"Hey man there is some bitch in here", the guy speak to the phone. My body finally responds to the situation and i take a step back.

"I thought that the Camerons were out man i d- HEY DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP!" the man yells at me. I freeze again. He is holding his hand up, pointing at me, like he's trying to use telekinetic powers to keep me still.

"W-who are you", i ask, my voice shaking.

"Just stay RIGHT THERE", he yells again, not responding to my question. I swallow as a single tear drops down my cheek. He is standing right in front of the door. Suddenly a fan turns back on in the living room. The man spins his head towards the sound and i don't waste another second. Bless the broken fan. I start running as fast as i can. But where? My phone is upstairs so i can't call the police. The burglar would run the stairs after me and then i would be trapped. Where does Rafe keep his gun?

I hear the man running after me shouting something. My panic rises. I feel a hand grab my wrist and i scream. I scream from the top of my lungs. I turn to look at him and he punches me. I stagger as sharp pain shoots through my body. I feel blood rushing from my nose. I raise my hand and punch him back. I don't stand a chance against him and he punches me hard. As i fall to the floor, i see a knife on his hand. I cry sobs full of terror and fear as i back up on the floor until my back touches the kitchen countertop. I grab a vase from top of it, not taking my eyes off the man. I try to find balance with my trembling legs as i stand up quickly. I swing the vase back and use all my strength to hit his head with it as hard as i can. The vase breaks into thousand pieces and he shouts in pain, but lets go of my wrist. I keep running and get to the dining room's drawer. I rip open the first drawer and throw all the papers to the floor. Please tell me it's still here. I open the second drawer and empty it again. I almost start crying- if i wasn't already- when i see the gun. I grab it just when i hear the man come running to the dining room. I turn around and point the gun at him.

"Woah woah calm down!" he takes a few steps back. The gun is shaking in my hands and tears are streaming down my face. What am i doing? I don't know how to shoot a gun! I don't know how to aim, i've never even held a gun before. I don't even know if it's loaded. The man's face is bloody too. I take in a shaky breath.

"Don't think it's actually loaded", the man says and laughs. Laughs. In this situation. When i'm pointing a gun at him. He is trying to make me doubt. I look at his fist and see his grip tightening around the knife. I don't have a lot of time.

That's when i see him. Rafe. I see him in the same suit that he put on in the morning. Same suit that i didn't want to wrinkle when i hugged him goodbye. Kissed him. Told him how proud i was of him for being so smart and successful in his business. In the morning he saw me smiling and laughing. Now he sees me with my face bruised and bloody, tears streaming down my face, holding a gun. I see my rock and my entire world sneaking quietly to the dining room behind the man. Rafe puts a finger to his lips, telling me to not say a word. But the burglar sees my eyes move. He turns around and Rafe punches him to the floor, not wasting a second. Rafe leaps to me in a couple steps.

"It's okay, i can take this", he says and carefully takes the gun from my shaking hands. I let out a sob of relief. Rafe touches my elbow and whispers to me:

"I called the police as soon as i heard you." Then he turns to point the gun at the burglar.

"Get up!" Rafe yells. The man gets up, holding his hands up.

"Slower", Rafe warns. The guy lifts his head slowly to look at Rafe.

"You wouldn't do it", the man says, looking at Rafe, challenging him.

"DO I LOOK LIKE I'M FUCKING SCARED", Rafe yells. I wince, startled. I look at my boyfriend, blood smudging my face. Rafe's hands are steady around the gun, nothing like my shaky hold before. His expression is like stone, no signs of nervousness or fear. He would do it. For me, he would. The man who wakes me up with a thousand kisses on valentines day. The man who brushes my hair when i'm sick. Who looks at me like i'm the most important thing in the world. Who looks at me with the most gentle and caring eyes. The same man who is now pointing a gun at someone without showing any signs of distress. He would do it. I turn my eyes to the burglar. He seems more scared now.

"S-still don't think it's loaded", the man says, trying to hide his shaky voice. I feel like now he is trying to reassure himself. With one small move, Rafe turns the gun away only few inches and pulls the trigger. My heart jumps to my throat. The bullet hits the floor right next to the burglar. I stand there, shocked. I feel like my mind is here but my body is somewhere else. That's when i finally hear the police sirens. The burglar hears them too, and he takes one step back.

"Get on the fucking ground or i'll shoot your brains out", Rafe says. He is not yelling anymore, but his voice doesn't let room for objections. The man gets on the ground slowly, Rafe moving the gun as he does. My knees fail and i drop to the floor shaking, when Shoupe and the other cops barge in.

"It's okay honey, come on let's get up", i hear. I'm staring forward with empty eyes, seeing how the cops drag the burglar out of the house, handcuffed. My mind doesn't respond to the voice immediately. I feel like i'm floating at the top of the room, watching everything happen, not understanding that i'm a part of the scene.

"Y/n it's over now", i feel a hand on my shoulder and i snap back to reality. I turn my head and see Rafe's face. He is crouched down next to me, looking at me with reassuring eyes. My whole being crumbles when i see him. I break down crying and wrap my arms around him, clinging on to him like he could disappear. Rafe helps me up and i hug him even tighter.

"Shh it's okay now. I'm so proud of you Y/n", Rafe comforts me and strokes my hair.

"Honey i know you're tired and upset but Shoupe needs your statement. After that we can be alone, just you and me", Rafe pulls me back slightly to look me in the eyes. I nod and take a deep breath.

Shoupe had a lot of questions, and i hated to go through the horrible events again. After making sure that i didn't need medical help, he and the other cops finally left. Rafe sits me down in the bathroom and cleans the blood off my face. I look at his eyes as he studies my face and arms, looking for any kind of injuries. When i have assured him that i really am okay, Rafe leads me to the living room, never letting go of me. It's like he's scared that i would turn in to ash if he let go.

"Watch your steps", he says as we walk through the kitchen. Vase pieces are all over the floor.

"Don't worry i'll clean it", he assures. I'm still pretty startled, so i'm happy about him touching my back. Keeping me grounded. When we get to the living room, i sit down on the couch. Rafe sits down next to me and pulls me closer to his side. He presses a long kiss to my temple.

"How are you holding up?" Rafe rests his head on top of mine.

"It was so scary", i breathe out. I turn my head and he lifts his.

"I thought i was gonna die", i whisper. Rafe looks at me with eyes full of sadness.

"I'm so sorry that that happened to you", he says quietly. I kiss his cheek and cup his face with my hand.

"You don't know how relieved i was when i saw you", i tell him. He smiles.

"You know you're my whole world, right?" he grabs both of my hands, holding them as he looks at me.

"I love you too", i say and finally my lips turn in to small smile. He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it.

"And i would never let anything bad happen to you."

"I know Rafe."

"I promise i'll take care of you for as long as we live."

"Then i hope we will live forever."

He pulls me in for a kiss. The familiar feeling of his lips on mine makes me feel like i'll be okay. How could i not be okay when i'm being loved by him? His hands move to my back and then to my hair and neck. Now there is no doubt. There probably never was. I need his love to breathe. I need to be loved by him so that my heart would beat. I pull away from the kiss. I look at Rafe, trying to figure out how to tell him. How to tell him what i feel for him. How can i ever let him know what he makes me feel, how much i care about him and how badly i need him to be in my life forever. I look at him, trying to create the words to tell him. And he looks at me. And those eyes tell me it.

He already knows.

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), swearing, spelling/grammar mistakes.

do not read if you are not comfortable.

summary: When the twins and the reader move into their new apartment in Diagon Alley, you finally confess to George about the feelings you’ve accumulated through the years, which eventually leads to more.

a/n: This was request from anonymous for a george weasley x reader, first time smut, thank you for requesting, I had a lot of fun writing this!

word count: 4k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“Give her hell from us Peeves!” Three voices cry before soaring away into the clear blue sky.

Everyone knows of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The students who disobeyed every rule, every year to save the wizarding world.

In the Hogwarts walls there was another group of students, while not as heroic, were just as well known. George Weasley, Fred Weasley and Y/n L/n were the notorious pranksters of the school. You couldn’t walk ten feet without someone being a victim of their work. For years, the school was their playground, pranks ranging from covering students in feathers, slipping belch-powder in professors’ tea and making products of their own that would take the world by storm in the years to come.

Every student at Hogwarts knew their group by name, swiveling heads in alertness when one of your voices was about, or running the opposite way when a familiar laugh rang out. There was never one without the others, so when your grand scheme of fireworks and sparks flew through the air, no one was surprised to see three brooms zipping about, accompanied by laughter and the screams of the pink toad who had terrorized the school of magic. Your names would go down in history among the students and as you zipped away through the clouds, a giant ‘W’ in your wake. The joyous feeling of freedom breaks free and you join the twins in the life you’d been dreaming about since you met the two in your first year, and away from the hell you’d endured.

With the help of Harry’s generous donation, the three of you set up shop in Diagon Alley, making the most bizarre and far-out designs the three of you could think of. Working long and hard to perfect each and every one of your products for your grand opening in a couple months.

The three of you spent most of your time in the apartment above the shop, concocting your brews and relishing in the new-found freedom you had taken for yourselves. The three of you worked, laughed, high-fived and dusted each other off after bad days, you grew even closer to the twins and with the new atmosphere and life, and feelings you’d accumulated through the years came about that had your stomach erupt in butterflies around your best friend.

If you were to ask anyone in Hogwarts about the mischief trio, first you’d see their head swivel and panic cross their eyes, next they’d tell you. While you were all close and the twins were practically connected at the hip, George Weasley and Y/n L/n had an unspoken ‘thing’ between them, and it was quite obvious to everyone, but them, and although cliché it was one of the castle’s favourite subjects for drama.

While oblivious to the gossip, George had fancied you since the moment he met you in first year. Watching your eyes light up at him and his twins’ antics and then showing them some tricks of your own. He must’ve been blushing beet-red because at that moment he fell. He fell for your sarcastic remarks, your love for books and muggle movies, he fell for the way your nose scrunched when you were concentrating and the way your eyes lit up whenever it snowed. George could go on for hours about all the things he loved about you, but actually telling you was a whole other story. You were such a positive, bubbly person, he could hardly tell the difference between a romantic or platonic action. Did you mean to brush his hand like that? Was that little smirk for a reason? Did you know what you did to him when you bit your lip like that? Or when you walked with a little more swing in your hips.

George wanted nothing more than to wrap you into his arms and hold you close against him, murmuring every moment he fell in love with you into your ear, listening to your heartbeat and pressing kisses across your temple, but at the same time he wanted to make you squirm beneath him, make you scream his name and take away your ability to walk, leave his mark across your skin and taste you. He just wished he had a hint to how you really felt about him.

“Oi, George! Get down here, we need some help with this stand!” Fred’s familiar shout shakes the daydreaming red-head out of his daze, cutting his thought of you short.

“Alright ya twat, no need to yell!” George huffs, speeding down the stairs to the shop area and walking towards you and Fred.

“How can I be of assistance, my dear brother.” George smirks as he approaches. “Well this stand won’t fit in between the other displays, we just need help pushing it in.” You shrug, jabbing your thumb towards the empty display stand.

George claps his hands together and the three of you get to work. You did your best to pry one of the displays to the side while the twins push the stand into place. Everything was going well, you made great progress and the display case was starting to slide in. It wasn’t until the twins gave a final heave, that you lost focus, your eyes dropping to a certain twin’s toned bicep, peeking out from his skin tight shirt, and you failed to remove your finger from the crevice.

“Bloody Hell!” You cry as your fingers are crushed in the closed space. Quickly yanking your digits out of the gap, you hold them close to your chest, you double over in pain. “Fuck, that hurt.” You groan, examining your fingers to be lightly scratched and bruised. 

George can only just register your pained yelp before he’s fussing all over you just like his mother would. “Oh my goodness, are you alright love? I left my wand in my room, come on, I’ll fix you right up.” George gently takes your arm and hurries up the stairs leaving a confused Fred behind. 

“Hey it’s alright Georgie, it’s just a small cut!” You try to reason with the persistent ginger, but George doesn’t let go. “Nonsense darling, your finger is bleeding, I’ll heal it in no time.” He continues, sitting you on his bed as he picks up with wand from his bedside drawer and takes a seat next to you.

You extend your hands to George and without a beat he murmurs the healing spell. “Episkey.”

Your cuts begin to close and the bruises fade away, leaving no pain and no sign of injury. “Thanks George, you’re the best!” You giggle wrapping your arms around the tall Weasley and inching closer to him.

It had become something of a tradition for the two of you to heal each other if one of you were to get hurt back in school. Whether you’d scraped a knee or had come to the other bearing Umbridge’s scar, you’d done your best to help one another, learning new healing spells for this specific reason. 

A smile spreads across your cheek as you think back to the days you’d run to George with a burn or a cut, only coming to peace once he’d had a go at it, or at least wrapped it in a bandage.

“Do yo remember, back in Hogwarts, when we’d come to each other just to heal our little wounds.” You pull back from the hug and take George’s hand in yours. 

“Of course darling, how could I forget.” George grins, reminiscing of the days not so long ago. 

Back in your days with the pink toad, George would be the first person you’d run to after detention, small sobs racking through you as you showed George the first of many scratches in the back of your hand. 

‘I must not laugh in class’ 

George had helped you reduce it to a pink scar, but the pain remained with you for long after as the memories of that horrid quill raked your brain.

George was always your comfort, he’d stuck by your side and was there for you when you needed it the most. Long nights of star-gazing, studying, planning and laughing had also helped you come to terms with the love bubbling inside you for George Weasley.

“Thank you for everything, back in school I mean.” You sigh, leaning onto George’s broad shoulder, a light smile gracing your face.

“There’s no need to thank me love, if anything I should be thanking you for saving me from detentions.” George smirks, wrapping an arm around you. You begin to laugh a bit as you think back to when you’d trick filch into leaving his post before pulling the red-head through the long halls. 

“Feels like so long ago.” You murmur and look up towards George, finding him already gazing back at you. “Last time you did it was only a year ago love.” The younger twin smiles, leaning closer.

Your eyebrows knit together and your face heats up at the sudden closeness and a question that has plagued your mind for years spills from your lips. 

“Not to be nosy, but why do you always call me darling or love, Georgie?” 

This was it, George’s thoughts began to race. This was the moment he could finally confess to you, finally know how you felt about him. 

His lips turn up into a huge smile, as he pulls you closer to him and looks down for a moment, gathering courage. 

“Y/n, I’ve fancied you since the moment I saw you on the train. You immediately caught my attention, but once I really got to know you, I knew that I was done for. You’re so funny, beautiful and absolutely perfect, but you’ve never really showed me you fancied me and-” George pauses for a moment, trying to pick his words right. “Well, I just want to know how you feel.” He simply states, looking deep into your mesmerizing e/c eyes. 

Your smile widens as George finishes his confession, and tackling the red-head onto the bed you hug him tight against you. 

“I fancy you too idiot! Why else do you think I’d only go to you for my scars and bruises, why I’d save you from detention all those times, I’ve fallen in love with you!” A melodic laugh rings from your lips as George wraps his arms around you with a hearty chuckle, pressing kissing on your head just like he’d dreamed of doing. 

Rolling the two of you over, George now on top, the blushing ginger admires your laughing form beneath him. You were positively angelic and he couldn’t help himself from what came next.

George leans down and captures your lips in his, snaking his arm up to hold your hand against the mattress while the other cups your face. The kiss is chaste at first as George familiarizes himself with your lips, truth be told he hadn’t had his first kiss yet, only daydreamed of doing it with you. Now, with your lips finally against his, he wanted it to be perfect.

Running his tongue against your bottom lip, George wordlessly asks for permission to deepen the kiss, nipping lightly on your soft pink lips. Parting your lips you allow George to run his tongue around your mouth, as your teeth clash and your tongues swirl around each other. 

George eventually pulls away to catch his breath, never letting go of your hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that love.” the prankster smiles, pressing a small kiss to your nose. 

“Oh I can imagine, especially with that pressure on my thigh.” Your eyebrow raises in a teasing tone as George goes a brilliant shade of scarlet, his freckles seemingly disappearing under the dark hue. 

“I- uh, I’m sorry. It’s just-” George begins to ramble, trying his best to explain himself to no avail. 

A small smirk plays on your lips as you capture George’s lips into a loving kiss again. 

“It’s alright Georgie, I want this too.” You sigh onto the gryffindor’s lips, circling your hips around underneath him.

George lets out a low moan at your action, squeezing your hand and looking back into your eyes, pupils dilated and dark with lust. “I’ve never done this before.” You admit, running a finger up and down George’s side, glancing down at his lip caught in between his teeth. 

“I haven’t either, but I’ve imagined doing this with you before.” George shrugs, removing his hand from your cheek and placing it on the waistband of your shorts. “That makes two of us.” You tease, running your free hand up the beater’s toned chest. 

George doesn’t hesitate to crash his lips onto yours again, rolling his hips against you. Your mouth parts enough for him to slip his tongue past your lips again and explore every inch of your opening as his hand pulls the waistband of your shorts down your thighs before promptly flicking them to the floor. George uses his long digits to tease your clit through your panties as he kisses down your jaw and collarbone nipping and sucking, leaving a path of pink marks down your upper chest. “So wet for me already love?” He smirks as his fingers find the soaked patch on your heat, eyes darkening as he pushes harder against your clit.

“Yes George, f-fuck, right there.” You plead softly as George continues to ravage your clit, hitting the sensitive bud perfectly and sending waves of pleasure through your being. The gryffindor obliges, rubbing your heat faster and harder as your eyes shut and your head falls back against the soft pillows, allowing George access to your neck, sucking dark hickeys onto your skin as you writhe beneath him from the stimulation from his fingers and lips were granting. 

Slowly inching your fingers up, you pull the beater’s shirt up to his chest, motioning him to take it off as your fingers move lower to the waistband of his trousers. George removes his fingers from your panties to teasingly pull off his shirt, sitting up a bit to show off his toned abdomen, taking his sweet time to throw the shirt aside and fix up his short hair, sending a wink down at you. 

Your hands seem to gain a consciousness of their own, slowly tracing down each muscle, drawing dangerously low before George leans down to push your shirt up your chest. Raising your arms, your shirt joins George’s on the floor. “You’re absolutely stunning love.” George praises as he reaches behind your body to unclasp your black bra, quickly throwing it away and pressing kisses across your breasts. 

You begin to run your hands up the toned red-heads chest when he takes hold of your hands and pins them above your head against the soft cushion, his grip soft, but firm, unabling you to move despite how hard you squirmed. 

“Don’t bother darling, now stay still like a good girl.” George smirks, lust evident in his low rasp as he kisses down your naked chest, swirling his tongue around your nipples and massaging them with his calloused hand. Your attempts to escape George’s grasp are forgotten as his teeth begin to nibble on your sensitive buds. Head falling back between your arms, you arch your back against George, silently begging for more. George grins into your skins and pulls back to admire your pleading form, reaching down to undo his belt with a small fumble, eventually pulling his trousers and briefs down completely. Your eyes fly open at the feeling of George’s hard cock brushing up against your inner thigh as George’s dark, brown eyes display a playfulness as he teases his tip against your clothed core. 

You begin to struggle against George’s grip again, wanting to take his throbbing length into your mouth and make him beg beneath you. Unfortunately, George has different plans and his clutch stays firm. 

“Ah ah ah, just let me make you feel good y/n, save that for another time.” George purrs, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs. Your arms grow limp as George uses his hand to spread your thighs apart and place himself between your thighs. Right in front of where you needed him most. “Please don’t tease me anymore George, I-I need you.” You beg shakily, desperately rolling your hips to gain any friction, your timid demeanor being overthrown by overstimulation and need. 

“Patience darling, you’ll get me I promise.” George smirks, closing the space between you to press another heated kiss to your lips and continuing to coat himself in your slick, sliding himself up and down. Bringing his free hand to your clit again, George pushes his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves, swirling it around with a light pressure, swallowing your loud moans into the kiss. Once you were squirming beneath him again, back arched and hips thrusting up for more, he finally begins to push himself into your soaked core.

A feeling of ecstasy and satisfaction runs through your veins, bringing a whole new feeling of pleasure and clouding all your senses as George pushes deeper into you, awakening an intoxicating new feeling you could get addicted too.

George pauses for a moment, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to check in on how you were. Your eyes are shut, your mouth agape in a small ‘o’ and with the loss of his lips, desperate moans spill past your lips, mixing beautifully with George’s name. 

The toned red-head begins to thrust in and out, incoherent groans falling from his lips as your core clenches around him and your hips buck up to greet him. Picking up the pace. You cry out George’s name over and over again as he continues to snap his hips in and out of you, your body growing limp and your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust. George continues to pound deep into you using all his strength to go deeper and harder, reintroducing his fingers to stroke your clit as he desperately swirls and thrusts his hips. 

“Fuck, you make me feel so good darling.” George growls against your ear, peppering kisses to your jaw and burying his face into your neck to try and stifle his loud moans. 

With George whispering sinful praises into your ear you can feel a knot tighten in your lower stomach, and your hips begin to buck again and again, begging for release. “Oh fuck George, d-don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.” You mewl breathily.

George, fueled by your moans pushes himself even more, thrusting and swirling his hips until he feels your core clench deliciously against him and your shaky moan cry out.

As your coil snaps, spots flood your vision and your body tenses as shockwaves of euphoria shake your body and your hands beg to grip onto something, cries of pleasure mix with the sound of George’s skin hitting yours as the beater continues to snap his hips into your throbbing core, his cock twitching and pulsing deep inside you as you ride out your orgasm and his release builds up. 

George throws your leg over his shoulder in a desperate action for release, using the new angle to push deeper into you and feeling your core contracts to grip his cock, driving him absolutely insane. 

“Oh my Godric, George you make me feel so fucking good, please let me help you.” You look up to your constricted hands and back into George’s dark orbs, pleading with him to release you. 

George gives a couple more lazy thrusts before he releases your hands and pulls himself out of you. Despite your legs being unsteady, you lay George’s head down on the other end of the bed and begin to kiss down his sweat stained body, slowly making your way down his long body.

Licking a stripe from the base to the tip of his cock, you slowly take George’s length into your mouth, swirling the pulsing tip around your tongue and hollowing your cheeks before going deeper. George’s eyes shut once again as you take him, burying his fingers into your hair and helping you to guide your lips down. Taking what you can’t fit into your hands you start to bob your head up and down, using your lips and hands together as you lick and suck at the sensitive skin. George begins to spew profanities and buck his hips into your mouth, pulling your hair up and down a little more forcefully as you begin to gag lightly. George continues to buck and moan, your name being sobbed from George’s lips as he feels his orgasm taking over him and hot cum floods your mouth. You try your best to swallow every drop, only a couple beads sliding down your chin as you lift your head from George’s length. 

“God you look so gorgeous with my cum dripping down your face.” George smirks pulling you onto his bare chest and kissing down your cheek. Your only response is a blush as George continues to stare down at you as if you were his last meal, drinking in all of your post-sex features. Messy hair, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and swollen lips. Sighing, he pushes those thoughts away as he pulls you up to see him face to face. 

“That was amazing love, thank you.” George grins, pulling you against his chest and playing with your soft hair.

“Of course Georgie, but Merlin my legs are sore.” You groan into George’s chest as his chest vibrates with a chuckle. 

“I’m afraid Episkey won’t cut it for that darling.” The red-head prankster teases, reaching down to caress your legs lightly. “That’s too bad, have you got any other remedies?” You joke, wrapping your arms around George’s torso, a smile growing on your lips. 

“Just lay here with me darling, Relax.” George sighs, pulling back to gaze into your eyes again with a growing smile. “Sounds good.” You respond, a small yawn falling from your lips.

“I-I love you y/n, I’ve fallen in love with you so many times over the years and the fact I still haven’t asked you this question yet is killing me, would you be my girl? Please?” George pouts, giving you his best puppy eyes as you giggle and cuddle closer to his chest. 

“I’d love nothing more, my love.” You sigh happily as George’s eyes light up and he peppers your face with butterfly kisses.

“Next time the two of you shag, at least put a silencing charm over the room!” A disgusted shout, causes the two of your to flinch. “Sorry, Fred!” You laugh at the older twin’s plea and turn back to your love. “Guess we were a bit loud, weren’t we?” You tease.

“Me? Oh no darling, that was all you.” George smirks. “And who’s fault was that?” You reason, pressing a gentle kiss to George’s lips once again. 

“All mine, I can say that with honor.” The red-head smiles victoriously and pulls you against him again with a chuckle.

“Godric, I can still hear you!” Fred’s annoyed scream rings through the room again.

The two of you only laugh at Fred’s interjection, too busy staring into each other’s eyes to care. The two of you had come so far, from pulling pranks in the Hogwarts halls, running to each other for a spell you could easily perform when you were hurt, to moving into the same apartment to follow your dreams and making love to each other after your confessions of love. You’d only dreamed of being able to hold the boy who’d stolen your heart with each Episkey and prank, and here you are lying in his arms with love bites scattered across your chest and legs too tired to move, slowly drifting to sleep as all your dreams came true.

Request from @willowrose99: Hello sweet one! Congratulations on 100 followers! It's such a big mile stone and you should be so proud of yourself! Your fics are so great and deserve all the love in the world! Can I get some headcanons for the on how they would spend time together? Like a Easter dinner for example? And can I also get a reader x Spencer request with the promts: “Get the hell out of here' and “Please don’t scare me like that ever again"! Something angsty and fluffy? Thank you, lovely. Will x

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Minor violence & swearing, mention of blood

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Here as promised, @willowrose99 ♡ I hope you like it! It's a bit on the long side, cause once I started writing the dialogue, I just couldn't stop hahahaha. Also it's implied that Spencer & reader are in a relationship, but this is the first time Spencer says "I love you."

Masterlist

----------

You didn't have much time left.

Your vision was beginning to fade in and out, but you could just barely make out the time on the clock in front of you. Four hours, and still no sign of rescue.

The unsub was real pissed about it, too. He'd been tinkering with something behind you for the past few hours, but he suddenly stopped half an hour ago, yelling about how the FBI was "stupider than he expected" and that he wouldn't get the chance to show off "his masterpiece" in front of "an audience."

You blinked your eyes tightly, trying to fight off what was surely a concussion, but the dull pain in your head droned on and you could barely register anything he was saying.

Only the metallic taste of your own blood was keeping you conscious now. That, and the flickering hope that your team would come in time for you. That you could see Spencer at least once more.

But you didn't have much time left.

Red and blue lights flooded the windows in front of you, and a relief spread throughout your body, only for it to devolve into terror as the unsub trailed his fingers across your face.

“Looks like I don’t need you anymore, sweet cheeks.” He drawled. He waved what you realised was a remote in front of your face, and your heart stopped. “I knew they were going to save you eventually, and now they're going to walk right into my trap."

“You’re going to go down with all of us too.” You spat, your voice strained from hours of screaming.

“Why, that’s the idea. I thought you were smarter than this.” His smile broke into a calculating stare. That’s when you heard them yell “FBI!” before kicking down the doors.

No, they had to get out of here now.

“Drop the weapon!” Spencer yelled, and the rest lined up next to him, all pointing their guns at the unsub’s head.

“Get out...” You struggled to scream. “He’s got a bomb!”

“Peter Robinson. Put down the remote, slowly.” Hotch commanded. Spencer was looking directly at you, his face warped with concern while the unsub simply laughed.

“Oh, you must be Spen-cer.” Robinson sing-songed, walking up to the doctor while the rest continued to train their guns on him. “You know, my little hostage just couldn’t shut up. Kept on screaming for her brave hero, until I had to bash her head in to keep her quiet.”

Your vision was going now, but you heard the sound of a gun cocking. “Reid.” Hotch warned.

Robinson only continued to laugh, as if he'd just stumbled upon the funniest situation in the world. “You know, I thought you’d at least look like that,” he gestured to Morgan, “but turns out you’re just a skinny little nerd with pretty hair.” He sneered.

“You fuc—“ Spencer’s voice was rising.

“Last warning, Robinson. Put down the remote or we'll shoot.” Morgan interrupted loudly, as the rest slowly moved in on him.

The unsub smirked, and you realised your team was out of time. "Get the hell out of here!" You tried to yell, but your voice only managed to croak out the words. "Leave me!"

Robinson grinned then. "Smart call for someone stupid enough to walk in here alone. But it's alright, because nobody here is going to remember your mistake when they're dea—"

A gun shot rang out and you winced, the loud sound causing your dull headache to flare in pain.

There was a loud thud as Robinson collapsed, and the remote clattered as it hit the ground. You managed to pry open your eyes for a moment, only to regret it as his dead eyes stared blankly into yours.

While the bomb squad rushed in to disarm the place, Spencer only had eyes for you, wordlessly undoing the binds on your arms and legs before sweeping you into a tight hug. You breathed in the scent of paperbacks and coffee, and your body instantly relaxed. You were home, at last.

The tears you had wilfully denied the unsub were finally rolling down your cheeks, as Spencer's body gently shook against your own.

“I don't know what I would have done if you were... if we didn't...” He mumbled into your shoulder, before breaking the hug to look directly into your eyes. "Please don’t scare me like that ever again.” Tears were welling up in his eyes, and your heart ached at the sight.

“I won’t. I promise.” You replied through your own tears, wincing as you lifted your hand to touch his cheek. "But I never lost faith that you would save me, Spence." You said softly.

"What if I didn't?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. A terror-stricken look flashed across his face.

"But you did." You stroke his cheek gently.

Spencer covered your hand with his own and kissed it softly. Then his lips curved into a relieved smile. "You know I'm never going to let you out of my sight again, right?" He said softly, watching as the medics arrived by your side.

"I think I can live with that." You smiled back tenderly.

All the way from the crime scene to the hospital, Spencer stayed true to his word. Even after all the checkups and visits from the rest of the team, despite the insistence from the hospital staff, he continued to stay by your side, holding your hand gently.

But it was only when the two of you were finally alone, and you were drifting off to sleep for the first time in 18 hours, that he says those three words while pressing his lips to your forehead.

"I love you." He whispered, and despite everything you'd endured that day, this was the one thing that made your heart race.

"I love you too." You mumbled quietly in return. Even if you couldn't see his face, you could feel the smile that radiated from his body and the squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement.

You fell asleep shortly after, feeling at peace and in love.

----------

Tag List:

@averyhotchner @amesandpineapples

Heart of a Hero

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Tommy Vega, Nancy Gillian, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes

Rating: T

Warnings: Mass shooting incident

Notes: A million thanks as always to @bluenet13​ who beta read the heck out of this and listens to all my writing woes.

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt “Ambulance Ride.”

Read on Ao3

It was his day off. It was his goddamn day off. But apparently crime didn’t take days off or respect the fact that he was just trying to run errands like a normal human being. Something that should have been a safe activity for everyone. Not a terrifying, violent event.

Carlos had been in the vegetable aisle when he’d heard the distinctive popping of gunfire. He’d dropped the mango in his hands, instinctively reaching for his duty weapon, despite the fact that he didn’t carry it on his days off. It had taken him only seconds to assess the situation, to realize the shots were coming from outside the store rather than inside, and to start running toward them. “Get to the back of the store!” he yelled to panicked customers and staff as he moved past them toward the doors. “Find somewhere to lock yourselves in and call 911!”

He stopped momentarily to help up a woman who had fallen to the ground, pushing her in the direction everyone else was fleeing as another round of shots sounded and the glass windows at the front of the shop shattered, causing everyone nearby to scream in terror.

Carlos paused at the front doors, trying to assess where the shots were coming from before exiting to the sidewalk outside. He could see people running, what looked like a body on the ground, but no sign of the shooter. Or shooters. There had been an awful lot of gunfire for it to be only one person. 

There was a flash and more popping and Carlos caught a glimpse of someone in a black or dark blue hoodie running toward the building before ducking behind a mailbox for cover. 

Running out into an active shooter situation unarmed seemed incredibly stupid, but there were still a lot of bystanders around and Carlos needed to do what he could to stop further casualties.

He crouched low, pulling the door open just enough to let himself out and moved quickly toward the fallen person on the sidewalk. The man let out a groan as Carlos got close and he felt a brief wave of relief that the man was alive. “Help me,” he said, breathing hard, eyes wild with fright.

“I’ve got you,” Carlos said, looking up and around for either shooter, but they seemed to have disappeared for the moment. “What’s your name?”

“Danny,” the man said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Danny where are you hurt?”

“My leg,” he said, in obvious pain. “I was running and I tripped. I think I broke my ankle.”

Another wave of relief. Broken ankles were an easy fix compared to gunshot wounds. “We need to get you somewhere safe,” Carlos said. “I want you to put your arm around my shoulders, I’m going to help you get behind that table over there. It’s probably going to hurt, but I need you to stay as quiet as you can, all right?”

The man nodded and Carlos wasted no time in putting an arm under his shoulder and moving immediately toward the table a few feet away just as the assailant reappeared, apparently having reloaded a fresh round of ammunition.

Carlos dragged Danny the last few feet, hunching over as more glass shattered nearby. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Danny gasped.

“Stay down!” Carlos ordered, putting as much of his body over him as he could.

And that was when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The door to the grocery store opened and another man stepped out, looking up and down the street. 

“No! Get back inside!” Carlos yelled.

He was on his feet and moving before he even thought, gunfire ringing in his ears as he tackled the man to the ground, both of them grunting in pain as they hit the concrete. 

There was a squeal of tires and Carlos looked up to see the man in the dark sweatshirt jump into the back of a jeep, slamming the door shut as the driver hit the gas. 

He was just able to make out the first three digits of the license plate before it turned the corner and disappeared from sight. 

“Are you all right?” he asked the man underneath him, still breathing hard.

The man let out a moan. “He shot me.”

Sure enough there was blood seeping from a wound on the man’s arm. “Okay, deep breaths,” Carlos said, sitting up and reaching for his phone with one hand while the other clamped down firmly on the man’s arm, ignoring the pained swear words coming from his mouth.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“This is Officer Carlos Reyes, badge number 1-3-0-8. I am at the Machado Family Market on Ninth Street and we have a mass shooting situation. The suspect fled in a white jump, first three license plate digits 6-3-1. I have two known victims both male. Victim one is in his early thirties and appears to be suffering from a broken ankle. Victim two has been shot in the arm. Requesting immediate police and medical assistance,” Carlos barked as he grabbed a wad of napkins from a nearby table and pressed them against the man’s arm.

“Officer Reyes I am dispatching all available police units in your area and rolling medical,” the dispatcher told him calmly. “Do you need me to walk you through what to do with a bullet wound?”

“No I’ve got it,” Carlos said as he tried to stop the bleeding. He looked down at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Ian,” the man said with a grimace. “How bad is it?”

“Just stay still and keep taking deep breaths,” Carlos said. “We have ambulances on the way and they’re going to take good care of you.”

It didn’t look that bad to him, the bleeding seemed to be slowing, but he wasn’t a medical professional and he wasn’t going to make any promises. “How you doing over there, Danny?” he called over his shoulder to the first man.

“I’m all right,” he called back. 

“Just try and be still okay? The less you move the less damage you’ll do,” Carlos called back.

It felt like an eternity before sirens split the air around them. People had started emerging from the store. A woman who said she was a nurse had gone to take a look at Danny’s ankle while others sort of walked slowly through the debris in a state of shock. 

“Reyes?” 

Carlos looked up to find a colleague, Matthew Cruz looking down at him. “You just have to be in the middle of the action at all times huh?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Carlos said, managing a half smile. 

“You need help?” 

“I think I’ve got him for now. If you can just send medical over as soon as possible that would be great.”

“On it,” Cruz said, keying his radio as he and the rest of the officers worked to clear the scene so medical could come in. “Any idea what happened?”

“It was one person,” Carlos said. “Dark hoodie, medium build. I got a partial plate when they fled the scene.”

“Yeah they picked up the Jeep’s tail a minute ago. Nice work.”

Carlos nodded.

Within minutes the scene was cleared and medical swarmed the area. A paramedic that Carlos didn’t know ran over and knelt beside him. “Need some help over here?” he asked.

“This is Ian,” Carlos told him. “Single gunshot wound to the arm. Bleeding was under control until a minute ago but I think the bullet might have moved and hit an artery.”

Blood had begun gushing through his fingers in the last few seconds and Carlos felt panicky at his inability to do more.

“Okay I’m going to put my hands over yours and you are going to slide out, got it?” the medic asked.

Carlos gave an affirmative and they switched places as another medic came over and joined them. “You take care Ian,” Carlos said.

“Thank you,” Ian told him, his face pale and sweaty.

Carlos got to his feet, surprised at how shaky and nauseated he felt. This type of scene wasn’t new for him, but he’d never been out of uniform during a crisis of this kind before and it was getting to him more than he would have expected.

“Carlos?” He heard T.K.’s horrified voice before he saw him and his heart sank. His boyfriend was going to be beyond upset.

“Oh my god! Are you all right?” T.K. moved toward him eyes wide, a bag slung over his shoulder with Nancy right behind him, looking equally concerned.

“I’m fine,” Carlos assured them. “A little shaken up, but fine.”

“There’s blood all over your hands,” Nancy said.

Carlos shook his head. “It’s not mine. There was a man who was shot, somebody from the 130 has him.”

“Hey! We need some help over here!” An officer beckoned the medics toward a woman who was bleeding from the head.

T.K. looked back at Carlos who waved him off. “Go help everyone else. I’m all right, I promise.”

They didn’t look convinced. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” T.K. asked.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Carlos assured him as they moved to help the woman in need.

He was vaguely aware of T.K. calling out vitals, Nancy rushing past him to grab something else off the ambulance as he wiped his arm across the back of his forehead, sweaty despite the fact that he was beginning to feel cold. The adrenaline that had fueled his heroics was wearing off fast and he knew he should probably sit down before his knees gave out, but he couldn’t quite figure out where to go.

Another team had already packed up the man with the broken ankle and Carlos gave him a nod as he rolled by. He could sense T.K.’s eyes darting back and forth from him to his patient, but he ignored his boyfriend. He was fine and T.K. needed to focus on his job.

He sucked in a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, swallowing hard as the nausea in his stomach swelled.

“Carlos, are you okay?”

He had spotted Tommy speaking to the incident commander a moment ago, but apparently she’d finished and was now standing in front of him with a worried look on her face. “Did someone examine you?”

Carlos shook his head. “No, I’m fine. What’s the situation? How many casualties?”

“Several injuries, mostly minor from broken glass or trip and falls. One gunshot victim so far.” She looked him up and down and he could see that she wasn’t going to let him go. “You look like you’ve been through it; why don’t you let me check you out?”

“I should go see if I can help—“

“Carlos, you are not on duty right now,” Tommy said, guiding him to a nearby chair, her fingers settling on his wrist to take his pulse. “Do you have any pain?”

“Not really,” Carlos said, feeling extremely tired now that he was finally sitting. “I’m kind of nauseous. Shaky.”

Tommy hummed in sympathy. “That could be the adrenaline. All this blood is another victim’s?” she asked, looking at his hands.

“I think the bullet may have found an artery,” he said, by way of explanation. “I was on him pretty fast but I don’t know if it was enough.”

Her hands ran up and down his arms as he spoke, searching for injuries. “You did everything you could,” she said. 

Her hands moved across his chest, down his torso and then she stilled. “Nancy?” she called without taking her eyes off of Carlos.

Nancy looked up from where she was bandaging a cut on a woman’s forearm. “Yeah Cap?”

“Can you go get me a fresh kit and some oxygen from the rig?” Tommy’s voice was calm. Too calm. Carlos felt his heart begin to beat faster.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Carlos I want you to listen to me and stay calm,” Tommy said, her voice smooth and gentle. “You’ve been shot.”

Panic jolted through him. “What? No I—I’m fine.”

“We’re going to get you on the ground all right? Easy does it.” She put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his left side, sliding him easily off the chair and onto the sidewalk even as his confused brain tried to catch up. He couldn’t be shot. He would have felt it. He would know if he’d been shot. 

“I don’t feel anything,” he said, noticing now that his voice was shaking and he felt even colder than before.

“That’s probably the adrenaline,” Tommy said. “You’re out here being a hero and saving everybody without even taking care of yourself.”

Nancy reappeared and her eyes widened in horror as Tommy cut up Carlos’ shirt and exposed his abdomen. “Nancy, go get T.K.”

“Cap…”

“Go quickly please,” Tommy said and now Carlos heard the sharp edge of urgency in her voice. “Here we go Carlos, take some deep breaths for me okay? This might hurt.”

Oh! Carlos choked back a cry as she put pressure on his right side. A lot of pressure. Pressure that sent all the agony he hadn’t been feeling burning through his body. He tried to arch his back and move away from her, but either he was weak from blood loss or she was stronger than she looked. 

“Easy, easy Carlos,” she said as he gritted his teeth and tried not to let out another pained moan. “Try and relax for me. I know it’s hard, but I need you to stay as still as possible.”

Stay still when it felt like he was on fire? 

T.K. appeared above him, eyes wild with fear, a hand cupping his cheek. “Cap what—?”

“Gunshot wound to the lower right quadrant,” Tommy said evenly. “No apparent exit wound. Nancy get him on oxygen. T.K. can you work?”

“I—“

“Yes or no?” she asked sharply. 

“Yes, yes I can,” T.K. said, but Carlos could see tears in his eyes. He wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but his arms didn’t seem to be working anymore. He felt weirdly detached from his body. Detached from everything except the pain radiating through his side. 

“Okay let’s get him on some fluids,” Tommy ordered. “How you doing Carlos?”

“Fine,” Carlos slurred from underneath the oxygen mask. He didn’t like the way the air blew against his face, but breathing did seem easier so he didn’t try and pull it off.

“Carlos stay awake,” Nancy ordered when his eyes slid shut.

He forced them open again. Why? Why did he need to stay awake? He couldn’t quite remember.

“T.K.?” his eyes searched for his boyfriend, it was hard to see with the mask covering half his face.

“I’m right here babe,” T.K. said, appearing in front of his eyes. “You’re all right. You’re going to be just fine okay?”

He put a hand on Carlos’ head and Carlos felt an odd urge to cry, tears pricking at his eyes, his throat tightening, making it even harder to breathe. 

“Let’s get him on the gurney,” Tommy ordered. “Carlos let us do the work okay? We’re going to get you out of here.”

He might have blacked out when they lifted him onto the gurney. He definitely threw up. It was horrible.

T.K. got the mask off just in time and Nancy rushed to put a basin under his chin. He fell back with a moan that turned into a whine, not something he was particularly proud of. He wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when he’d just been shaky and weak in the knees. Nothing had hurt then. Now everything hurt and he wanted it to stop. 

“T.K.,” he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes as they slid him inside.

“I know, I know it hurts babe,” T.K. said and Carlos could see he was near to tears as well. “Tommy can we up his morphine?”

“Give him a few more milligrams,” Tommy said as she slammed the doors shut behind her. “Let’s go Nancy!”

Carlos felt a tiny bit of relief from the pain as medication flooded his veins. He pulled the oxygen mask from his face. “My parents,” he rasped.

“I will call them as soon as we get to the hospital,” T.K. promised.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said, closing his eyes as tears slipped down his face. 

“No, no, no,” T.K. said quickly, putting the oxygen mask back in place and stroking his hair. “You don’t need to be sorry. You are good and brave and perfect and you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t want to leave you,” Carlos said, his heart splitting into two at the thought.

“You’re not,” T.K. said firmly. “You’re not leaving. Right Tommy?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said as she adjusted the IV’s. “You are staying right here with us. A little surgery, a few days in the hospital, and you’re going to be good as new.”

“See?” T.K. said, his voice breaking just a little as his thumb moved back and forth over Carlos’ forehead. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

He drifted in and out after that, everything coming in flashes and blurs of noise and light and pain.

“I love you,” T.K. said to him over and over again, pressing his lips against Carlos’ forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up."

And then he was gone and there was pain and strangers and the sharp smell of antiseptic burning in his nostrils. There were voices all around but he didn’t understand what they were saying, didn’t know what was happening until someone with a soft voice took his hand.

“Officer Reyes we’re taking you into surgery now. They’re going to remove the bullet and repair any damage. You’re going to go to sleep and when you wake up things will be much better.”

Then someone was putting something over his face, telling him to count, but he was so tired and his tongue felt leaden in his mouth.

He had no idea how much time passed. He woke up to voices, some familiar some not, and excruciating pain in his side. He might have cried, he thought maybe someone wiped his tears away. Someone definitely put a straw in his mouth and encouraged him to drink, which felt good on his dry throat, but then he was drifting again.

Everything was heavy and tired and painful and sleep kept dragging him under again and again like waves beating against the shore. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them, not even when T.K. was whispering things in his ear or when he felt his mother run her fingers through his hair.

It felt like a long time before he was able to swim up from the darkness and blink his eyes open in the harsh lighting of his hospital room. He swallowed hard, his mouth and throat still parched and tasting of medication. “There he is.”

Carlos turned his head and found his father sitting by his bed, a smile on his face. “Are you with us mijo?”

Carlos nodded, brain still foggy as he tried to piece together the events that had gotten him here. “Are you in pain Carlitos?”

His eyes searched until he found his mother sitting in a second chair, a pile of knitting in her lap. “I was shot?” he asks, his voice coming out raw.

“Yes, mijo,” his father said, sitting forward. “At the grocery store.”

“How,” he swallowed painfully, “how long?”

“It’s been about six hours,” his mother said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

Carlos winced. “Bad?” he asked, apparently only capable of single syllable words. 

“Nothing they couldn’t fix,” his dad assured him. “They were able to remove the bullet without complications. There was minimal damage. You can ask your boy, he knows all the medical stuff they’ve been talking about.”

“Where is he?” Carlos asked, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. 

“He just went home to get some things for you,” his mom said. “He got here before we did and hasn’t left your side, but we knew it could be a while before you woke up and he was still in his uniform. He looked very uncomfortable.”

“He should be back soon. Do you want us to call him? Tell him what you’d like from home?” his father asked.

Carlos shook his head, already feeling himself drifting away again. “Just tell him to come back.”

His mother squeezed his leg through the sheets. “He’s coming Carlitos. He’ll be here soon. Just rest now.”

The next time he opened his eyes T.K. was there. His uniform was gone, replaced by jeans and a grey hoodie, the strings of which he was fiddling with absentmindedly as he stared a hole into the wall across the room. “Hey,” Carlos croaked. 

T.K.’s eyes immediately flicked to him and he sat forward on the chair. “Hey babe,” he said softly, his face a mask of worry and exhaustion. “How are you feeling?”

In pain was the answer, but Carlos wasn’t going to let him know that. “I love you,” he managed to croak out, tears tightening his throat.

“I love you too,” T.K. said, reaching for his hand and threading their fingers together reassuringly. “I love you so much.”

Carlos shook his head and tried to get his emotions under control. “I made peace so long ago with the idea that one of us might die in the line of duty. But I never…I didn’t ever think that picking up groceries…”

“I know,” T.K. said. “Me neither.”

Carlos shook his head and had to swallow down a moan of pain as he tried to get more comfortable in the bed, a seemingly futile task. “Easy,” T.K. said, coming to help him. “Take it from someone who knows, bullet wounds hurt like hell.”

“I uh, I asked my parents but they don’t understand everything like you do. How bad is it?”

T.K. squeezed his hand. “As far as gunshot wounds go, you got very lucky. It missed everything vital. Barring any complications you’ll be out of here in a few days.”

Carlos exhaled slowly and looked up at the ceiling. “Okay. Good.”

“How’s your pain?” T.K. asked. “Do you need more medication?”

“No, I’m all right,” Carlos said even though the pain in his side was slowly growing from an ache to a knifelike stabbing. 

T.K. fixed him with a look. “You don’t have to be brave,” he said bluntly. “If you need more medication, you can have more medication. There’s no reason to tough this out. It won’t speed up your healing time at all.”

It was all said in a forceful, strained tone and Carlos took a good look at his boyfriend, noting the pallor of his face, how drawn he seemed. “Are you okay?”

“You’re the one in the hospital bed,” T.K. pointed out.

“And you’re the one who had to save my life while I was bleeding out on the street,” Carlos countered.

“You should be resting, not worrying about my feelings.”

“If you don’t talk to me I’ll just worry more.”

“Carlos.”

“T.K.” Carlos gave him a pointed look.

T.K. sighed and leaned back in his chair before looking into Carlos’ eyes. “It was terrifying. The most…terrifying thing I’ve ever lived through. And I feel,” his voice caught. “I feel so guilty that I didn’t see it when I first got there. That I let you walk around, bleeding out…Carlos I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Carlos said. “T.K., this was not your fault.”

T.K. clenched his jaw and shook his head. “You, and Tommy, and Nancy, and your parents and, my parents can say that all you want. But I’m going to have to live with the guilt for a while.”

“You were doing your job. You were helping people who needed to be helped.”

T.K. leaned forward, pain in his eyes. “My first, and most important job is taking care of you.”

“You did,” Carlos said. “You always do.”

T.K. still looked like he was in pain. “Is there something else?” Carlos asked. “You can tell me.”

He shook his head. “You’re tired and you’re hurting. We can have this conversation another time. You don’t need to be worried about me right now.”

“I always worry about you,” Carlos said. “That’s part of the deal in a relationship.”

T.K. blew out a breath. “You know, when Alex and I ended, I had to figure out how to be enough for myself. To look inside myself for strength. To find it within me to continue on with life even when it got tough.

“And then I met you and it was so easy. Being with you is…it’s the best I’ve ever felt. I feel whole. Like myself. And looking at you in that street, holding your hand, trying so hard to keep you alive…I had a lot of time in the waiting room to sort through my feelings and try to…try to figure things out.”

“And?” Carlos asked gently.

T.K.’s mouth shaped into a sad, forlorn smile. “I realized that…I can do it. I can do this life without you.” His breath caught and Carlos saw tears pool in his eyes. “But I really, really don’t want to.”

“Hey.” Carlos reached out a hand and gently grasped T.K.’s wrist. “You don’t have to. I’m here.”

T.K. finally managed a small smile. He reached up and smoothed a curl from Carlos’ forehead. “Yes. You are.” 

He cleared his throat and Carlos watched him shove all his pain and feelings deeply back inside. They would need to pick up this conversation later. Maybe when his mind was a little less foggy and his entire body didn’t hurt like hell. 

“And listen, we’re even now. I got shot, you got shot, that’s enough. It’s not a competition,” T.K. said, flashing a manufactured smile.

“I will definitely try not to get shot again,” Carlos promised. “How’s everyone else? The man with the gunshot wound and the guy with the broken ankle?”

“Both fine thanks to you. Everyone else only had minor injuries. You’re a hero,” T.K. told him. “Your face is all over the news.”

Carlos closed his eyes and groaned. “How did they get my name?”

T.K. gave him a wry smile. “Adriana and Francesca are in the waiting room with your parents. I think they’ve hit on every doctor, nurse, and orderly in the place.”

Carlos sighed. “And they talked to the news crews.”

“They really didn’t like you being referred to as an unidentified officer. They’d like you to get full credit for your heroics. And hopefully a medal. And a monetary reward. Which you will use to take them on vacation.”

“God they’re the worst.”

“They definitely are,” T.K. agreed. His face sobered. “But they’ve been here since I texted and refuse to leave even though they can’t come up. Underneath their astonishingly blatant horniness and greed, they’re really worried about you.”

“They always come through,” Carlos said.

“They also brought coffee and donuts. Don’t tell them, but I love them.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He shivered and winced as he was reminded that any movement at all was beyond painful.

“Are you cold?” T.K. asked.

“A little.”

“It’s probably the blood loss.” He reached into the duffel bag next to him and pulled out a blanket that Carlos recognized.

“You brought me a blanket from home?” Carlos asked, heart melting at his boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

“Hospitals are notoriously cold and their blankets notoriously suck,” T.K. told him as he tucked it gently around his legs. He kissed the tip of Carlos’ nose. “You should try and get some sleep. Hospital wake up call comes early.”

“Thank you,” Carlos said. “You’ll uh, you’ll stay with me?”

T.K. smiled and leaned closer, carding his fingers through Carlos’ curls. “If you’re here, I’m here.”

You Oughta Know

Summary: Bucky helps you get over a breakup. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Smut 18+, Public Sex, Revenge Acts, Cheating (just mentioned, acts not by main characters) Word Count: 1,629 Beta Reader: @supersoldiersruined-me​ Notes: The petty level of reader and Bucky is fun to write about as fiction but like...don’t actually do this. It’s all inspired by the song You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette.

“I see you started without me, killer.”

There’s a quick clink as the metal from his hand collides with the bottle of bourbon he’s snatched out from under you. Bucky slides into the stool next to you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like shit. Not the hot, probably leads a rugged lifestyle as a secret assassin, looks like shit, but the real looks like shit.”

“So I look like shit?”

“Yes!” he says, matching your mock sarcasm after taking a pull directly off the bottle.

“One, fuck you. Two, I’m also living that rugged secret assassin lifestyle just like you. Three,  I have a reason to look like shit.”

“You didn’t have a mission. You and Nat don’t go back out East for another month.” He flags the bartender down. “Whatever your largest plate of tater tots is, can you double that and smother it in cheese and bacon? Think tater tot poutine and you’re on the right track. I’m willing to pay, my good man.”

On any other day you’d tease him. The bartenders here had gotten pretty used to Bucky’s odd requests and the both of you blowing off mission steam at the karaoke stage. Instead of playfully ribbing your best friend, you lay on the bar and a single long sob tears through you.

“What the fuck!?” While the words were anything but, his tone is tender and concerned. “Sweetheart, what the hell is going on. I’ve seen you cry less when you’ve taken a bullet to the leg.”

“Tom broke up with me.”

You pry your head up from the bar sticky from years of ethanol sugar spills and lord knows what else to study his face. All things considered, he keeps control. It didn’t take any of your deductive skills to know that Bucky (and the entire team) had despised the man. That should have been your first clue.

“There was another woman.”

The next couple pulls from the bottle burn a bit less and have you feeling the type of mellow you’d sought when you’d texted Bucky for a night out. Your good feeling is interrupted by him plopping what looks to be at least six different guns on the bar, eight knives, and perhaps two frag grenades.

“Where’s his apartment, doll. I’ll be ready in two.”

“Dude, what the fuck!” The plate full of cheesy potatoes nearly slides off the bar as the bartender stares wide eyed at Bucky’s splayed arsenal. “We’ve talked about this, man.”

“Special circumstances, my friend. Slide me the ketchup, please.” You study your friend with a raised brow while he continues to appraise his ammo levels and take stock. “I’ll be ready in five. I didn’t account for the poutine.”

***

You’d managed, with great difficulty, to talk Bucky down from murder as he shoveled the poutine in his face.

“He can’t just get away with treating you like this?!”

You shrug a shoulder before waiving for another drink. You knew Bucky was right. Tom shouldn’t get to treat you like this. You’d been nothing but a supportive partner to him. He’s the one who has a laundry list of issues.

Your fingers play with the delicate blade of one of Bucky’s knives still strewn about the bartop; flipping it expertly through your favorite routine.

You’re unsure who can claim credit for dissuading Bucky from murdering Tom. It was likely a healthy mix of a carb coma, the two bottles of whiskey he’d knocked back himself (no doubt spiked with something Asguardian, and the unyielding pull towards the karaoke stage. Regardless, the night of laughter and drinks with your best friend seemed to be exactly what you needed to take your mind off things. You nearly threw a tantrum when you heard the bartender yell last call.

“Let’s go home and keep this party going, darling?”

“You read my mind, Buck.”

***

In traditional drunk fashion, the two of you get sidetracked stumbling and giggling on your way back to the compound. You’re certainly not alone on the ever busy city streets, but then again Bucky had a way of making you feel better than you thought possible.

“Hold on!” you slur mildly. “I’m gonna call that motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind.”

Normally Bucky would have been the voice of reason but he too was firmly intoxicated and more than willing to cuss your ex out. Without hesitation he smooshes himself behind you into the phonebooth you had already jumped into.

“Hey Tom, ya fuckface. I want you to know that I am happy for you, I wish nothing but the best for you both. Looks like you finally have someone who deserves you...another piece of shit human. I saw her picture, Tom. Do you not realize she’s just an older version of me. Does she speak eloquently? What the fuck did she do that I-”

The line clicks open and you freeze.

“Hello?” Tom asks into the phone. Bucky can see the pure terror in your eyes, slicing through the drunken bold stupor. “How are you doing?”

Your throat feels as though someone made you swallow sandpaper. You were ready to rant to an answering machine, but somehow hearing his voice made you feel stone cold sober. Before you can formulate a complete thought, the phone is yanked from your hands.

“You don’t get to ask how she’s doing. 'Cause the love that she gave, that you two made wasn't enough for you. And every time you speak her name I hope you’re filled with a feeling of immense regret because you’re never getting her back.”

“Oh please, like I want that heartless bitch back.”

“I'm here, to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. It's not fair to deny her of the cross she bears. YOU gave it to her. You oughta know.”

***

You’re hungover. The movie theater in the compound is a welcome refuge of darkness and quiet. So much so that by the second scene you’re softly snoring away in the seat next to Bucky.

Perfect.

He shimmys (not without difficulty) onto the floor in front of you on his knees and begins to pull the soft sweatpants down from the curve of your hips. So engrossed in his work he doesn’t notice your eyes flutter open until the cold steel of your glock is against his temple.

“What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?!”

“We talked about this, doll! Last night.” His limbs are perfectly still, hands resting on the soft warm skin in the small of your back.

***

You struggle to think back to the fuzzy details of last night after the horrific events in the phone booth. Bucky had held you close as you sobbed once more on the walk back home. You’d collapsed into bed without regard to your usual routine. You vaguely remembered Bucky saying “Don’t ya know babe, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.”

“Honestly I just need someone to eat me out like it’s their last meal on earth.”

The entire exchange had made you snort laugh just before dozing off.

***

“I remember. You said someone should do this for me.”

“I’m a someone.” Only the sounds of the movie play in the background otherwise he could swear he would be able to hear you think. He risks a glance at your face and there is the expression he’d been waiting for. Pleading. Curiosity. Permission. “I want to do this for you. You deserve it, sweetheart.”

With the gun no longer aimed, but rather scraping against his scalp while your hands fumble, he dives into the uncharted water with his best friend. He knows your stubborn resignation refuses to let you just drop the weapon all together. You need to think that you’re not one hundred percent as curious as he is. Inching your pants and panties the rest of the way down, he kisses each new inch of exposed skin.

You clench your nondominant hand in his hair, dominant hand still holding the glock. The occasional tap of the cool metal against Bucky’s skin should annoy him, piss him off, make him stop or tell you to set it down but he doesn't. It makes him laugh somewhere deep down that his best friend and secret agent is getting devoured in a movie theatre and can’t form a complete enough thought to set down her weapon. The other part of him is straining against his jeans knowing that at any moment you can kick his ass and press that back up against his temple. Your strength has always terrified him and turned him on a little and he would never want it any different.

You feel as though someone has turned you inside out and every nerve ending is exposed and vulnerable. Your brain is no longer focused on the terrifying fact that your best friend is seeing you on display. Instead all you can feel are the sparks of pleasure from each lick, suck, and swirl. When he enters two digits deep and presses steady rhythmic pressure you explode. It’s a good thing the theatre was empty besides the two of you. There was no way you would have been able to stifle the deep primal sounds escaping from your lips.

You throw your arms off to the side as you recover. “Holy fuck, Barnes.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah but if anyone finds out, I’ll actually have to use this on you,” you gesture to your gun still hanging limply in your hand.

Taking advantage of your still jelly-boned state, Bucky easily disarms you. With a devilish grin and chuckle he drags the gun down your still exposed core making you shudder. “You sure about that, doll?”

For possible writing request could i get just,, anything from the trainwreck in the most recent Friday night stabby stabby of: tango sheriffing evil, tango dying, evil not noticing that he just dropped dead behind him, joker walking up on tangos body, joker dying to revive tango as the altruist, evil walking over and seeing tango revive, and tango just absolutley screaming because 'oh my god what do I even say here' upon waking up, as evil desperately asks him who killed him and finally, while his game actually crashed, story wise he probably straight up passed out in embarrassed panic. If not for writing requests just your thoughts on this would be great because it was hysterical from tangos pov sHsjdjdjf

i got u guys :D

...

Tango has been discreetly following Evil around for the last minute or so. He heavily suspects his friend of being the imposter, though he can’t say for sure why. Call it a gut feeling. Or “I feel it in my bones”, as Impulse would say.

As he watches Evil perform a task just outside laboratory, he decides to go for it. After all, he may not be alive for much longer.

So he lines up the gun and takes the shot.

Immediately, pain rips through his body and he blacks out before he can even scream.

When his eyes open, he sees his transparent hand and knows immediately what happened. “Ah, dangit. Oh well, took a shot.”

He gets up and starts to continue with his tasks but then he spots Joker entering the room and just dropping dead next to him.

“Wh-What?!” Tango yelps. “What the-?!”

Joker’s ghost sits bolt upright and meets Tango’s eyes. “What?! I thought that would work! Why didn’t that work?!”

“Why didn’t WHAT work?” demands Tango. “What’s going on?”

“I’m the altruist! I tried to save you - why didn’t it wor-”

Tango gasps as life returns to him. Joker’s ghost is gone, and his body is back to normal. He’s alive.

“Tango!” gasps a voice.

Tango glances sharply over and finds Evil standing in the doorway, staring at him. “Wh-What just happened?”

Tango’s addled brain doesn’t quite process the situation properly. All he knows is that Evil was right there when he died; he can’t quite make the connection that because his kill failed, that means Evil is perfectly safe.

So he scrambles to his feet and runs past Evil, dashing towards the button. Evil pursues him, calling, “Tango, wait! Did you get res’d? Tell us who killed you!”

But Tango keeps going, panic pushing him onward.

Just as he enters the office building, the world glitches around him, causing him to skid to a halt so fast he almost falls over.

A second later, the world disappears entirely, leaving only a blank white void.

Tango screams, his feet no longer touching solid ground. He feels like he’s suspended mid-air in this abyss, his flailing arms grabbing at nothing.

“TANGO!” Evil’s voice yells. “We can still hear you! Are you okay?!”

Tango can’t form coherent words. Pure terror has taken him completely and all he can do is keep screaming.

“Tango, tell us who killed you! We can end the round and save you! Who killed you?!”

But Tango still can’t respond. Even if he could, how is he supposed to explain that it was HIM? That HIS own failed kill was responsible for his death?

He finally manages to summon the energy to stop screaming and weakly looks around him. There’s nothing he can see or do that will help him get out of here, so it seems all he can do is just wait for the round to end. It’s hard for him to just hang here uncomfortably, perpetually scared that he’ll suddenly fall into the abyss of nothing.

…

“Why is he still unconscious?”

“I don’t know, Evil. Maybe you killed him too hard.”

“For the last time, I didn’t kill him! You KNOW that; my picture was on the victory screen.”

“Uh huh. Go tell it to Tango. Oh wait, you can’t. Cuz you killed him too hard.”

“Brody, I swear to-.”

“Both of you shut up!” comes Skizz’s distant voice. “Etho, what-.”

Tango lets out a low groan, inadvertently interrupting his friend. He slowly opens his eyes to find himself lying on the ground of the lobby, a bunch of faces hovering over him.

“Give him some space,” Etho says. “Guys, give him some space. Tango, can you hear me?”

Tango can only let out another groan as he attempts to move. Impulse and Skizz, who are on either side of him, help him sit up. “Gah, my head is killing me.”

“Are you okay?” Impulse asks worriedly. “We heard you screaming but nobody had an idea what happened to you.”

Tango blinks at him. “Wh-What do you mean you heard me screaming?”

“We all heard your screaming simultaneously,” explains Impulse. “Like, everywhere on the map all at once. It was terrifying, dude.”

“Oh.” Tango rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “S-Sorry about that. I think the game glitched or something cuz I just got flung into a white void. I could hear Evil’s voice for a while but I didn’t realise you guys could hear me.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a glitch,” says Etho. “The game’s been really glitchy today for some reason. But you’re okay now, right?”

Tango nods. “Apart from this headache that’s slowly going away, I’m fine, yeah.”

“So Tango, can you settle this?” Brody asks suddenly. “Who killed you? Nobody seems to know.”

“Ah… yeah… about that…” Tango gives a sheepish chuckle. “I tried to sheriff Evil.” A chorus of groans comes from his friends.

“Are you serious?” demands Brody. “THAT’s what we’ve all been stressing over all round?”

“Yup. I took a shot and died, Joker res’d me, and I panicked and fled when I saw Evil. All in all, it was kinda embarrassing and I’d like to forget it happened.”

“Me too, cuz I was thrown out for that,” Evil says wryly.

Tango stares at him. “What do you mean?”

“I tried to call a meeting but someone reported a body first, so when I tried to tell everyone about you, I got accused of killing you and got voted off. Thanks to one person in particular,” he adds pointedly.

“Sorry about that,” says Etho sheepishly. “I really thought you were trying to big-brain us.”

Evil raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Just so you guys know, if Etho’s dead first next round, it’s definitely me.”

A chorus of chuckles come from his friends.

With help from Impulse and Skizz, Tango gets unsteadily to his feet, regaining his balance.

“You sure you’re okay, Tango?” Etho asks.

“I’m fine. I’m ready to go again. Just…” He glances upwards. “Game, if you’re listening, don’t make me the sheriff again. I’m terrible at it.”

“Just don’t try to kill me ever again,” Evil says innocently. “That’s a good strategy.”

Tango shoots him a mock-annoyed scowl. “Shut up, imposter.”

“We’re in the lobby.”

“I stand by my words.”

"Hey, Tango?" comes Joker's voice suddenly.

Tango turns to face him. "Hey. Thanks for res'ing me, even if I didn't get to enjoy it for long."

"That's what I was gonna say; I'm not gonna do that for you again. Next time you die, I'm just gonna walk over your corpse and maybe give you a kick in the face."

Tango smirks. "Thanks, Joker. Love you."

"Hate you too."

Ya know what these self-indulgent Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow posts need? Self-indulgent banner art, that’s what.

Spoilers for issue #4!

Let’s start this off right with CREATOR CREDITS. Issue 4 of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is titled “Restraint, Endurance, and Passion.” Written by Tom King, Art by Bilquis Evely, Colors by Matheus Lopes, Letters by Clayton Cowles, and Edited by Brittany Holzherr. (w/ Assist. Editor: Bixie Mathieu & Senior Editor Mike Cotton)

THE STORY: 

Right, so this? This issue? Best one yet.

Also the bleakest of the bunch thus far; even though we don’t always see the brutality of the space pirates that Kara and Ruthye are following, there’s...the suggestion of it. The aftermath. And how Kara responds to it.

Okay, getting a little ahead of myself. BASIC PLOT SUMMARY: Ruthye and Kara continue their pursuit of Krem, who has taken up with Barbond’s Brigands.

The Brigands basically just. Murder and terrorize people, for profit.

Each planet they visit brings new horrors, as well as people who need Supergirl’s help.

And help she does.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

I yell a lot about the art on this book, and have, in fact, openly admitted that I’m primarily here for Evely and Lopes.

Well, that wily son-of-a-gun King went and wrote some of the best ‘Super’ stuff I’ve ever read and dang it, dang it, now I gotta yell about the words too. XD

Specifically, I wanna yell (in a good way!) about some words that occur towards the very end of the book.

Kara and Ruthye have Seen Some Things; things like genocide and mass grave sites and horrible violence, and upon reaching a planet where peaceful monks were slaughtered, Kara’s had enough, and needs to leave because if she screams, she’ll destroy what little is left of the monks’ monastery.

Here’s the text in full, because my gosh. It’s so good:

“What I write next I write based on my observations in those long-ago days at the side of the greatest warrior in the history of this august reality we all call home. It is important to note that my assertions do not rely on anything Supergirl said. It was not a subject we ever discussed or even approached, but nonetheless I believe it to be as true as the turning of worlds. You see, what is not well understood about the daughter of Krypton is that her power was not one of action but one of restraint, endurance, and passion. She did not choose to fire a beam from her eyes, or have breath of ice, or run faster than a speeding bullet. Or any of her other well-documented miracles. No, she held back her heat vision to look you in the face. She warmed her breath to converse with you. She slowed herself to walk by your side. Ever moment of every day, she suppressed the forces churning inside of her. All of the energy of a dead world that strained against her many barriers, eternally demanded to be released. I believe this effort hurt her. I believe she lived her life in pain. But I reiterate again, for I think it important enough to repeat--These beliefs are based on my time at her side, watching her as she moved through strife and sorrow. If you were to have asked her, I have little doubt she would have claimed that such as assertion was absurd. She would say she felt fine and well and then she’d as you if you needed any help.”

A long chunk of words, I know (this comic is DENSE!) but like. This is it. This is one of the defining attributes of the Supers--all that raw power at their disposal and they choose to help people, to be kind, to suppress that power for the benefit and safety of others.

HNNNNNNNG.

Hope, Help, and Compassion for All.

Whole lotta folks claimed at the outset of this book that King did not understand Kara, that he was a bad fit. And that may be so, I suppose--there’s a whole other discussion about like. The violence and swearing and ‘does that belong in a Supergirl book?’ But the characterization? Getting that Kara and Clark are just good people? 

King gets it. He got it in Superman: Up in the Sky and he gets it here, in Woman of Tomorrow.

Other things King gets! Kara is stubborn! Kara is passionate! Kara is going to fix things, even if the effort of doing so hurts her, physically, emotionally, and mentally!

(Fuuuuuuun fact for the crowd saying that Woman of Tomorrow is vastly superior to the CW show: TV Kara is ALSO all of those things! King isn’t pulling this stuff out of thin air. It’s almost like...gosh. I don’t know! Both the show and Tom King are pulling from the character’s comic history, or something!!!! HOW NOVEL.) 

Like, seriously. There’s a lot of overlap. Stop pitting Karas against each other!

Anyways!

I promised art, so here is art!

Oh, right, forgot to mention, Kara literally THROWS HERSELF INTO THE SUN to express her grief and anger, so as to not cause that unnecessary destruction. She gives new meaning to the phrase: Set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. 

More art yelling: GOTTDAMN, the way Evely draws Kara just colliding with the surface of the sun and then the way Kara’s hair like...becomes the flames...

I am FEELING FEELINGS. HOW DARE.

Also, props to King and Cowles; King for deciding to have that initial scream, Cowles for the way the letters burst forth from the point of impact on the sun, and then back to King who decided that it would just be...devastating silent screaming from Kara, for the remainder of the scene. 

Back to the characterization, I just wanted to highlight something I mentioned...earlier on, I think? In these posts? But haven’t brought up recently, and that is how this book has not once brought up Zor-El, and I think Superman only got a quick mention in issue 2.

Honestly, I think that’s gotta be some kind of record.

It’s so refreshing. Not because I think there should never be mentions of Clark, or anything--I love that boy--but because so much of modern Supergirl comic drama is mined from the same like, angsting over her place compared to Clark, or her crazy sometimes-a-supervillain dad. 

There is no Clark and Kara drama here, no manufactured friction, because it’s just. A cool Supergirl story! 

Gonna keep going, but let’s do it with some more...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Once again, Mat Lopes is all over the dang place with his palettes, it’s marvelous.

Each new planet gives Evely the opportunity to go hog wild on the worldbuilding and design, and similarly! Each new locale is an opportunity for Lopes to set the tone with colors. Like, here, towards the beginning of the book, we’ve got a planet bathed in this warm, pale yellow/orange light. 

(Quick note: “Sure, yeah, I get it. We all have our duties. And it’s mine as a neighbor to do what I can to help you with yours. Please.” A+ Kara content. We love to see it. And then locating the remains of the alien’s daughter, so that they can go visit the grave site and have some emotional closure???? It’s just. So. Touching.)

Anyways, back to colors.

Like!!!! LOOK AT THAT JUMP. From the soft, almost pastoral feel of the delicate oranges and yellows to HARD GREEN, PINK, AND PURPLE. (Difficult colors to pull off in print, I might add.) 

(This is also an interesting scene, character-wise, because I think it helps re-contextualize some earlier stuff with Kara. Like, I’m mostly thinking that incident on the bus, where she was swearing at the passengers as the space dragon was about to destroy them. Here, we see Kara kind of...goad this alien woman into releasing her pent up emotions by yelling at her/getting her to fight, and you can clearly see at the end of it that Kara did not mean the things she said, because check this out:

She goes and gives her a hug once the woman is able to finally cry.

It’s not ‘Kara is being mean, Kara is swearing at her’, it’s, ‘Kara has an unorthodox solution to a problem, and she’s gonna FIX that problem, NO MATTER WHAT.’

Circling back to the bus thing--again, that could be an instance of ‘unorthodox approach to a weird situation that Kara is going to handle because lives are at stake.’)

But also, DIG THAT KIRBY KRACKLE, BAY-BEEEEE!

And a little Strange Adventures easter egg! The Pykkts! 

(I think those guys are unique to the Black Label series, rather than deep Adam Strange lore, but don’t quote me on that.)

Moving on to YET ANOTHER PALETTE, one I’ve dubbed, ‘Treasure Planet Purple/Grey’

Love Ruthye’s snoozing against the door, waiting for Kara.

Also, just as striking as the colors of the environment, are the colors used on Kara. 

If you compare this page with the previous one, Kara’s eyes are a paler shade of blue, and the red-rimmed look on her eyes here is not as intense as the red-rimmed look we saw back in issue one, when she was confronting Krem. 

All of which to say! There’s a pale, haunted quality to both the linework and the colors. Like. We know Kara has Seen Some Things. But she’s shoving all that stuff down to protect Ruthye, to save Krypto, and to stop these monsters, and you get all of that WITH COLORS AND LINES ON A PAGE.

I love it, I love it so much.

OTHER BOOKS WISH THEY HAD THIS LEVEL OF CHARACTER ACTING, I TELL YA! THEY WISH THEY HAD THIS BEAUTIFUL ALCHEMY OF INKER, COLORIST, AND WRITER WORKING IN SUCH TIGHT TANDEM!

Ahem. XD

Alright, last bit of art, lest I just. Post the whole issue in here. (Which I’m honestly always tempted to do but Strong Feelings about Piracy hold me back.)

JUST HECKIN’ LOOK AT THAT BLUE, MAN. JUST LOOK AT IT. S’BEAUTIFUL.

And more stunning character acting from Evely. Like. Bottom middle panel. The expression, the tilt of her head and the shadows on her eyes...

*insert silent flailing here*

Oh, also, KRYPTO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVESSSS (for now). 

I’m never right about these things, so I’m glad the one time I’ve correctly read a thing is when it involves Krypto not, ya know. Being dead. XD

Also absolutely love that Kara’s instinct is to send Ruthye home to protect her--once more leaning into that whole, ‘I’m going to protect you, even at great cost to myself’, though of course we know that she can’t send her home, not here, not now, just halfway through our journey. 

ERRRRRRGH, so mad we’re not getting twelve issues of this! CURSE YOU, POOR SUPERGIRL TRADE SALES! CURSE YOOOOOOU!

That said, King’s pacing? Has been phenomenal. I feel like Strange Adventures and even Mr. Miracle kinda...I’m not gonna say dragged, that’s not quite right. But it is more build up, I guess. Takes a while to get to the payoff.

Here, I think King is pushing things steadily along as he doesn’t have the benefit of an additional four issues, so he has to get to the point, so to speak. Keeps everything moving.

SOME FINAL, MISC. STUFF:

I’ve sort of glossed over the darker stuff from this issue, and I just wanna note that like. This is a book that features a bad guy getting stoned (in the death sentence way, not the drug way) on panel. Like. I can’t recommend this to children.

I can’t even really recommend it to some other Supergirl fans, because I know that the King elements will be too off-putting. 

It never feels like the book is going too far, though. At least in like an...exploitative way? If that makes sense?

The violence is handled with discretion, I guess is what I’m trying to convey. This could very easily tip over into like, gross shock factor territory, if not handled well, but I think the creative team pulls it off.

...Still wouldn’t hand this book to kids, though. XD

As mentioned, we’re halfway through this series! Can’t wait to see where it goes--every time I think I have this book figured out, it surprises me. So, like. Bring on the Dinosaur planet! With no sunlight! I wanna see how Lopes handles THAT. XD

(But Oh, OooooOOooh, we gotta wait until NOVEMBER.)

(Hhhnnnnng!)

(Then again, maybe that’s good; we’ve got the TV show in the meantime, and then once it ends we can pick right up with new Supergirl content just a few weeks later.)

(...Aw. Made myself a little sad, thinking about the TV show coming to an end.)

:C

So as not to end on that sad note, here once again is tiny, smushed Kara:

Give ‘em the ol razzle dazzle.

The Chief | Night Terrors (1)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Summary: The prestigious department of police and investigations in Seoul, Korea, is called to the small town of Cape Springs in rural California. Nothing is quite what it seems here.

Warnings: Blood, violence, you know crime stuff? Fluffy stuff somehow

Genre: Mystery, Crime, Angst, a lil humor, sexual innuendos, BUT I DON’T WRITE SMUT OKAY

Word Count: 7.2k Words (Holy guacamole. This took forever to write.)

A/N: Let me know your thoughts! Any suspects? Just message me if you want to be tagged! I’m sorry there’s literally no Reader in here, but she’s coming in next chapter, I swear. No, you did not stumble upon an x OC fic, and no I did not tag this wrong, just bear with me XD. Please please read this one, it sets up some good background. 

 Thank you so much to @seokjinsultimatesimp / @kingbewwy for helping with my story planning and ideas!!

Beautiful header by the wonder @dee-ehn / @dnrequests

Other:

Series Masterlist

Normal Masterlist

Previous | Next 

       The flight was long. Long, tiring, and utterly boring. Jungkook knew he should have packed something to do on the plane. He had been dependent on the movies in first class and reclining chairs to pass the time. Well, now he was halfway through his fourth movie and sleep was nowhere in sight. Yoongi was quiet across the aisle from him and Taehyung was watching a movie next to him with some snacks he raided from the service cart. Not wanting to bother either of them for entertainment, especially Yoongi, he decided to sit in silence. The movie was getting boring so he turned it off and prayed sleep would arrive. 

It did not. 

He arrived, jet lagged and lacking 13 hours of sleep. 

“Did you sleep?” Taehyung tilted his head as they stood to collect their belongings from the baggage claim. The boy just tiredly shook his head. 

“Hah, guess we’ll have to be getting you coffee!” Seokjin chuckled, having slept most of the flight in peace. Yoongi, despite sleeping for the entire 13 hours, still looked exhausted.  The others just seemed focused on getting their luggage and leaving. They had a lot of suitcases to store their equipment. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his older counterpart.

“I’m fine.” But as he said it, a huge yawn ripped from his chest. Jin grinned, but didn’t mention it as Jungkook’s ears started turning red with embarrassment. 

“Guys, we have to get going.” Namjoon announced. 

“Aye aye, chief.” Jimin saluted cheekily. Namjoon just pressed his lips into a thin line, not amused. The younger male just sighed and nudged the police chief. “You really need to loosen up.”

“And you need to remember that we’re here to solve a murder.” 

“Even better! It’s several murders!” Taehyung chirped, earning a glare from his superior, Yoongi. 

“Aish, you kids.” Hoseok scratched his head. “You shouldn’t be excited that a bunch of people are dead.” He muttered. 

“Sorry, hyung, we just rarely get cases that Joonie agrees to investigate. How else am I supposed to keep up with Yoongi if I never get any experience?” Taehyung glared right back at Yoongi. The older man muttered something under his breath and dragged the younger away by his collar. 

“Where are they going?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow. He was still trying to get used to the group dynamics and while he wasn’t entirely innocent, he tried to fill up that role in the meantime. The other members looked at each other, sharing a knowing smile. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Kookie.” Jimin winked. “He’s probably...teaching Taehyung his place.” 

“Oh…” Jungkook tilted his head, trying to make the connections. “So like yelling? Hyung could’ve just done it here. I mean, he does that all the time!” 

Jimin exchanged a look with Jin. Jin shook his head, Jimin smiled. 

“Kookie, no, Yoongi’s going to-”

“Oh my god, he’s too innocent.” Jin cried, rushing to cover the maknae’s ears. 

“Too innocent for what?” A lazy drawl came across the group, making Jin and Jimin jump. Namjoon chuckled and Hoseok pretended to be distracted on his phone, only stealing a quick glance up. 

     Yoongi’s hair was messy, as if hands ran through them several times. His lips were swollen and he had a large dark spot on his neck, which he quickly covered with his shirt collar when he saw them staring. Taehyung trailed behind him, dazed. He looked relatively the same. Jungkook jumped into action, shoving Jin away. 

“Oi! Yoongi-hyung, I know you wanted to teach Tae a lesson, but isn’t that too rough?!” He shouted pointing at the other’s ‘bruise’. Hoseok began giggling and Yoongi turned impossibly red. 

“Oh yeah, he taught me a lesson for sure.” Taehyung chuckled. Jungkook gaped, eyes flicking between the two. 

“But he didn’t need to beat you up! Why are your lips swollen and there’s obviously a bruise on your neck!” 

      Yoongi began laughing softly and Taehyung’s ears went red. Namjoon sighed and dragged Jin over to help load the car. Hoseok was quick to follow, leaving Jimin to watch the scene unfold. 

“We didn’t beat each other up.” Yoongi explained with a grin. 

“So someone else did?!” Jungkook’s nostrils flared with anger. “Where?!” 

“Slow down, coffee boy.” Taehyung said, amused by his younger friend. “You wouldn’t be able to fight anyone off.” 

“Okay fine, but I could hold my own!” 

The two began to open their mouths to respond when Namjoon shouted at the remaining four. 

“Get over here! We’ve got a long ride.” 

Jungkook rubbed his temples, scrunching his eyebrows up in distress. “Fine, I’ll drop it, but you better tell me soon.” He said in a huff and stomped off to the van, leaving Jimin, Yoongi, and Taehyung to burst out laughing while the youngest pretended not to hear them.

       The town of Cape Springs was old. Old as in ‘stuck in a total time warp’ old. It looked like nothing had been updated since 1950. The van felt out of place, despite the various modern vehicles littering the road. Main street was all one story, one street. The boys looked peered curiously out the windows. The town could be considered charming if it weren’t for the murders happening every Saturday. 

        A stomach growled from somewhere in the van and it set everyone else off. 

“You know, I’m kinda hungry, Joonie.” Taehyung said. “I missed breakfast on the plane.” He complained. 

“Yeah, me too.” Yoongi agreed reluctantly. 

“You slept the entire time, you lazy ass. What are you even using all that energy for?” Hoseok snorted. 

“Thinking, you dumbass.” Yoongi retorted. “Unlike what you do all day, I actually use my brain.” 

“Sure thing, Mr. Head Investigator.” Hoseok said, clearly annoyed by his comments. 

“Yoongi and Taehyung aren’t the only ones.” Namjoon finally gave in, tired of listening to them bicker. It often felt like babysitting children and not a team of well trained detectives, investigators, and policemen.

       Then there was the actual child of the group, 24 year old Jungkook. He was far too innocent for someone of that age, to his hyungs, having grown up around the protective nature of the other boys. Jin pulled into an open spot and parked the car. Taehyung and Jimin threw open the door, rushing to get outside and tumbling out in a heap. The other men chuckled at their antics. 

“You clumsy idiots!” Yoongi reprimanded, climbing out and helping them up nonetheless. Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Jimin just pouted. The townspeople passing by were quiet, eyes trying not to stare at the obvious newcomers. 

“Let’s go to this diner.” Namjoon said, pointing to a faded sign that read Betty’s Diner. Jin’s eyes surveyed the street. Despite their being people with modern clothing and devices, it still felt like they were transported back to the 1950s. 

“It’s not like there’s much of an option.” Jungkook pointed out, gesturing around the small mainstreet. It was either Betty’s Diner or Isabella’s Ice Cream Parlour and there was only one that held savory food. Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Hoseok fought to get through the doorway at the same time, earning an annoyed look from the locals inside. 

“Great, we’re making such a nice first impression.” Yoongi mused, gazing at the four men arguing at the door. Namjoon tried to soothe the wrinkles between his brow as he nodded along. 

“You guys are going to give me wrinkles before I’m 40.” The police chief sighed. 

         When they could finally sit, they were put at a table in the back. The diner had to move several tables and chairs together in order to accommodate. As they ordered, they didn’t even notice the dirty looks they were getting. Seven new, rowdy, men have arrived in town. That could only mean trouble. 

“I do not snore.” Namjoon said, offended. 

“You do too!” Jin fired back. “I sat next to you for 13 hours and god knows how many nights I’ve spent in your-” 

“That’s enough!” He cried, exasperated. The poor man was always under scrutiny from his partners. He loved them all dearly, but dear god it could be a lot to handle. Jin frowned and huffed, looking away. 

“One order of french toast and orange juice.” A waiter interrupted, tone harsh. The group turned to him, surprised. The name tag read ‘Hak-kun’. 

“Here.” Taehyung raised his hand awkwardly after a brief silence. The waiter let out an annoyed sigh and practically threw the plate down with the glass. 

     Taehyung cautiously pulled the plate toward him and the other men eyed Hak-kun. The waiter stormed away without another word. The cook was watching him, everyone in the diner was watching him. There was muffled shouting and next thing they see is Hak-kun is when he’s leaving, throwing his uniform apron onto the ground in frustration. The locals stared before going into a muttering frenzy. Anger issues….always fired...psycho...etc etc.

“Should I have gotten pancakes instead?” Taehyung asked after a tense silence. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. 

“Obviously. Who eats french toast for lunch?” He scoffed. 

“Pancakes aren’t exactly a lunch food either.” Jin piped up. 

“But at least they fit into a category.” Yoongi started, ready to rant. “They know their place. They’re a breakfast food! French toast is like in mealtime limbo. Nobody ever wants french toast just for breakfast; they can also have it for lunch and dinner!” 

     Jimin was in a fit of laughter at the usually subdued man’s outburst. 

“Think they poisoned it?” Jungkook playfully nudged Taehyung who grumbled something under his breath. It sounded an awful lot like ‘They might’ve’. Lunch continued as normal. Yoongi sat in silence for the rest of the time while Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin made the group laugh with their antics. 

        The police station was dusty. Old and dusty, looking like a ghost town. Namjoon peered inside, glancing around to see a bored desk attendant. He waved, but the attendant even spare him a glance. Jin cleared his throat. The attendant jumped, looking up with dazed eyes. 

“Oh, hello? Has there been an emergency?” He asked with a questioning gaze. The seven men shifted awkwardly. 

“Uh, hello, we’re from the Bangtan police department. Were you not expecting us? We can come back at another time-” Namjoon began and the man quickly stood. 

“No! Not at all! Sorry, it’s been slow recently.” 

The men exchanged glances. 

“But...there have been a lot of murders recently, have there not?” Yoongi tilted his head. The man was sweating and they couldn’t tell if it was because it was hot or because he was guilty of something. Of course, Yoongi and Taehyung tended to intimidate people, it was part of their job, so that could also be the issue. 

“Yes! That’s why you’re here. Uh, I’ll grab the chief.” The man quickly left, rushing into the back. He opened a door into the backroom and loud talking could be heard before it was muffled once more by the door. 

      Namjoon looked lazily down at his watch, Jungkook tapped his foot nervously, Yoongi was whispering with Taehyung, Jimin was giggling about something with Hoseok, and Jin kept his eyes trained on the door. 

      A pudgy man walked through the door, a faded blue officer uniform on. He took in the men standing in his station, then looked uneasily back at the attendant. They exchanged looks and then the attendant scurried back to the desk, shrinking in his seat. The chief smiled at the men. 

“Hello boys!” He said cheerfully. “Welcome, welcome! When did you get in?” He ushered them into the back where there were empty desks lined up next to each other. Dust hung in the air, only seen in the thin streams of light coming through the slats in the windows. 

“We arrived a few hours ago, we ate at Betty’s Diner.” Namjoon said. The others nodded along with the statement. The police chief’s eyes sparkled. 

“Ah, great food yeah?” 

“Definitely!” Taehyung piped up, only to be nudged hard by Yoongi. Despite being part of Yoongi’s investigative team, he had trouble reading the room. The chief seemed cheerful but there was an odd cloud of tension. 

“What’s your name, sir?” Namjoon cut in. 

“Oh right, you can call me Officer Nam.” He held out his hand and Jin reached forward, shaking it. 

“Officer Kim Seokjin, but I go by Jin.” Jin introduced himself. 

“You can call me Namjoon.” The younger man smiled, taking Officer Nam’s hand after Jin and gave him a firm shake. Before the office could respond, the other men were taking his hand, shaking it and introducing themselves. 

“Officer Min, head of investigations.” 

“Oh don’t mind the grump, I’m Officer Kim, but just call me Taehyung. This dumbo is Yoongi.” The energetic man shook Officer Nam’s hand several times excitedly. 

“Hoseok.” The other officer was formally trained. He gave Nam a firm handshake, his grip like iron. 

“I’m Jimin, pleasure to meet you sir.” The smaller man smiled widely. Officer Nam returned the smile warily. “That’s Jungkook.” He nodded towards the younger boy who had fallen silent. “He’s training with us, he’s mostly here to observe the process.” 

“Sorry, we can be a bit much in the beginning.” Jin said. It didn’t take a detective to see that Officer Nam was overwhelmed. 

“Oh it’s quite alright. There hasn’t been much we’ve been able to figure out much information with these murders. People are on edge, ya know? They clam up, won’t talk much.” Officer Nam explained. “We often leave it to our intern to handle public affairs, she’s more versed in...talkin’ to people.” 

“Intern?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, speaking for the first time. The officer seemed surprised to see him standing there, but nodded nonetheless. 

“She’s studyin’ to be an interrogation officer and needs some experience with a more experienced crew than us. The town is usually quiet.” 

“I see.” Namjoon murmured. 

“She won’t get in yer way!” Nam exclaimed, shaking his head. “She’s just a little shy.” 

“Where is she?” Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Well, she should be clocking in right about...now.” The office glanced at his watch. As if on cue, the door squeaked open. 

“Officer Nam? I’m here!” A soft voice called into the station. The men whirled around to see a small girl. She looked almost fragile with dark hair and a lithe frame. She looked startled to see the seven brooding men. “Sorry!” She squeaked, ready to flee the room. 

“Actually!” Officer Nam interrupted, halting her in her tracks. “Come here, I want to introduce you to Bangtan Police.” 

       She tentatively walked in. She looked like prey walking into a lion’s den; and she could’ve been with the way they were looking at her.

“Yes?” She shakily pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“This is Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook. They’re from The Bangtan Police Department and I’d like you to spend the remaining time in your work study with them to help solve this case.”

“W-why?” She turned, alarmed, to look at her superior. 

“Because they have much more experience and you haven’t gotten much experience with us here.” He explained, his gaze filled with something akin to fatherly love. “Now, introduce yourself.” He nudged her towards them. 

      The girl looked up hesitantly. Her gaze flickered away quickly, despite the encouraging smiles on their faces. 

“I’m Hae-won.” She murmured. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and I hope we can work well together.” 

     The boys were already swooning, hearts beating loudly. Once the chief left to discuss details with Namjoon, the boys split off to look around. Jungkook immediately took a place next to Hae-won. 

“Hey, Hae-won.” He grinned. She flushed and looked away. He was reminded of Y/N, but Hae-won was 10x shyer it seemed. “Wanna show me around?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

“Now come on, how are you going to be an interrogation officer if people can barely hear you? Speak up.” He teased. Hae-won looked up startled, eyes wide. 

“Oh right, yeah, that.” She murmured, more to herself than anything, but Jungkook heard it. 

“Do you not want to be an interrogation officer? That’s perfectly fine, y’know?” Jungkook paid no mind to her confused expression. “It’s not perfect for everyone.” 

“Hm.” She didn’t seem amused, just lost in thought. She seemed to notice the awkward pause, however, because she tugged on his arm. “Right, let me show you my favorite part of this station!” 

        As Jungkook was dragged away, Yoongi spoke with Jin. 

“The people here are...odd.” the paler man spoke. 

“It’s a small town, Yoongles.” Jin said.

“I guess...and don’t call me that.” 

“What?”

“Yoongles.” The man scoffed. Jin swatted his arm. 

“Now, is that anyway to talk to your hyung?” The older man teased. 

    In the corner, Taehyung and Jimin were looking around the empty station. 

“Where is everyone?” Taehyung scrunched his nose, trying not to sneeze as a plume of dust flew into his face. Jimin ran his finger along the edge of a desk, tilting his head as he looked at the fine layer of grime on his finger. 

“Not sure. Maybe it’s just an off day.” Jimin shrugged, wiping his finger off on his pants. 

“I mean, why have all these desks if you don’t use them?” 

“Hae-won suggested we get them.” Officer Nam said, arms crossed as he appeared in the doorway. Taehyung jumped, goosebumps running up his arms as Jimin tapped his foot nervously. 

“Why?” The detective asked. 

“She said ‘just in case’.” The officer mimicked the young girl. They surveyed the room. Eight desks. 

“Hm. Interesting.” 

Officer Nam just shrugged nonchalantly. “That girl can be a little weird sometimes. She’s too eager, too soft for this line of work.”

“I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it.” Taehyung suddenly felt the need to defend the poor girl. Officer Nam’s lips slid into a sleazy grin. 

“I see.” He said. 

“Let’s split up.” Namjoon announced upon arrival. The alleyway was in a rather shady part of the town. There was fresh blood on the stones, a smear on the pavement, an arc of blood across the wall. None of them even flinched, not even Hae-won. 

“I’ll take Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jimin.” Jin said. “Let’s look over the crime scene.” 

        Taehyung nodded, pulling out his camera to take pictures. Yoongi crouched near the blood smear on the pavement and Jimin wandered around, handing them gloves and then running his hands over every seam in the wall. 

        Namjoon took Hae-won, Hoseok, and Jungkook to interview witnesses and the surrounding townspeople. 

        Jimin knelt on the ground, hand running over a soft texture. Curious, he carefully picked up the object. In his hand was a soft tie, one that looked oddly familiar. He lifted it to the air, examining it in the fading sunlight. It looked new, not exactly a week old. It was possible that it was planted there, but he needed to bring it in nonetheless. The pink haired man took out a ziploc bag and placed the tie inside of it before sealing it up once more. 

“Who was the victim and how was she found?” Hoseok asked, holding a notepad and pen. Officer Nam scratched his head for a minute before walking over to the spot. 

“Right here.” He gestured to where a pool of blood was at the end of the blood streak. “She was leanin’ up against this wall, throat slit as y’know.” 

“Mhm.” There was the scratch of the cheap pen against the notepad as Hoseok wrote down his words. “What was her name?” 

“Mun-hee.” 

“Great. Thank you for your cooperation, if you have any further information, please do tell us.” Hoseok dipped his head. Hae-won observed from a distance, standing next to Namjoon as he explained the process to her. 

“So Hoseok here is going to ask the most important question first and then go on to specifics. Pleasantries aren’t too necessary until the end. He’ll close with a polite statement and leave.” The chief said as they watched the interaction. “In fact, here he comes now.” 

Hoseok waved at the two and winked at Hae-won. “Didya learn anything?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Hae-won smiled anxiously under his gaze and he laughed. Namjoon pulled at them to regroup with the others as night drew nearer. 

     The next day, they decided to have a formal meeting to discuss the situation. 

“So, we have Mun-hee, killed and placed in the exact same way as Jane Doe.” Jin laid out the facts. “She even looked a bit like Jane Doe. Were they relatives?” 

“No.” Hoseok shook his head. 

“I found a tie at the scene.” Jimin held up the plastic bag. Hae-won looked on curiously. Now Jimin had their attention. “It looks familiar, I just can’t put my finger on it.” 

“That’s from Betty’s Diner.” Hae-won interrupted. “I recognize it and I think it’s Hak-kun’s.” 

“Why?” Namjoon turned to look at the small girl. She pressed her lips into a thin line. 

“Well, he didn’t show up for work so I’m guessing he quit. He called me before that to say he lost his tie and broke down because his boss scolded him for forgetting to wear it.” She mused to herself before straightening again. “Those are just speculations.” 

       The chief of Bangtan smiled at her with a nod of approval. Even Yoongi quirked an eyebrow, Taehyung mimicked his expression. She was wary of the two of them. It always felt like they could see right through her. 

“Listen, it’s Friday. The killer strikes again tomorrow and if it’s Hak-kun, then we need to bring him into custody.” Yoongi said factually. 

“Are you seriously going to gamble people’s lives? What if it’s not him? Then we have no one watching out for the killer because we’re all trying to watch him.” Hoseok looked appalled at the suggestion. 

“Listen, I’m fine with that. We could see if there’s a pattern.” Yoongi shrugged. 

“There are people’s lives at risk here!” Hoseok shouted, slamming a fist onto the table. The other members jumped, surprised to see Hoseok so worked up.

“Jeez, you cops always get so worked up about people’s lives.” Yoongi said with a groan. 

“You’re technically a cop too, ya know?” The man sighed and slouched in his chair, defeated. 

“He has a point.” Taehyung piped up, earning a glare from his mentor. Instead of cowering back, as per usual, he jutted out his chin and continued. “Besides, don’t you think these murders are just too...delicate? Too well thought out for someone who’s doing this simply out of a moment of anger.” 

“We still can’t discount the fact that his tie was found at the crime scene. That’s damning evidence.” Jin jumped in. 

         There was a tense silence, Yoongi and Taehyung exchanging warring glares and Jin now staring intensely at Hoseok. A muscle in Taehyung’s jaw twitched uncontrollably. Namjoon’s gaze swept the room before he slowly stood, hands pressing to the table. 

“I say we bring him in for questioning. We don’t have to guard him if we just put him in a cell overnight.” He said, trying to reach a conclusion both sides would agree with. Jimin, who hadn’t spoken his opinion, just watched as the team was already divided. 

“Doesn’t it feel like the killer is toying with us?” He murmured, but with the silence in the room, everyone heard. 

“What do you mean by that, Jiminie?” Hoseok turned his attention away from Jin. His movement stirred the other members to look at him, Hae-won remained silent. 

“Mun-hee is found in the exact same situation as Jane Doe, as if the killer expected us and wanted to put on a show. A show of power. They’re saying ‘look, I did it once, I can do it again, and stump you every time.’ A subtle fuck you.” Jimin’s eyes darkened. The other men visibly stiffened, looking around nervously. 

“But how would they know?” Namjoon asked. 

“Small town, word spreads fast.” Taehyung said dryly. 

“That doesn’t narrow anything down.” Jin sighed, running a hand down his face in exasperation. 

“Well, actually,” Jungkook piped up. The attention turned to him and he swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Eye witness accounts say they saw a ‘strange man’ walking around.” He spoke, tapping his pen against the notepad in front of him. They pondered over this discovery. 

“Hak-kun fits that.” Taehyung muttered, saying what was on the others’ minds. 

“Just because he’s a man?” Hae-won scoffed, a sudden hard tone to her voice that had Jungkook turning to look at her, surprised. She quickly cleared her throat, returning to the quiet voice she usually had. “I mean, I just, I don’t know if that’s enough information, but with his tie, I think it’s a good idea to investigate him.”

“Right.” Namjoon nodded, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “Well, we’ll bring him in, get a warrant for his arrest, there’s substantial evidence, and interview him. Any objections?” 

       The six men’s eyes scanned the room before they all nodded. They waited, staring expectantly at Hae-won. She flushed a bright red from being thrusted into the spotlight. 

“Y-yeah. That sounds great.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. They all smiled fondly at her.

“Saturday, the countdown begins.” Jin mused, picking up his watch from his bedside table. 

“You’re setting a bad example, joking about these murders.” Namjoon sighed, rolling over, throwing an arm around the older man. The tips of Jin’s ears went red, goosebumps rolling up and down his body. 

“Joonie, some people have a sense of humor.” He snorted, turning over to face the man next to him. He placed his hands on either side of Namjoon’s face and slowly leaned in. The chief met the distance, lips brushing Jin’s. Then the chief smiled, pulling away to look at his second in command. He loved this man. 

“I have a great sense of humor, I fell in love with you after all.” 

“I don’t know if I should be offended or touched by your proclamation of love.” Jin huffed, shifting to sit up, hotel blankets pooling around his waist. 

“You’re unfair, Jin.” Namjoon murmured. “So handsome and, fuck.” He sighed, obviously conflicted. 

“We already know I’m the handsomest, Joonie.” 

“But how did you end up with a mess like me? Sometimes you handle the children better than me, and I’m supposed to be the police chief!” 

“They just need a little mothering. And don’t underestimate yourself, I’m sure a person like Y/N would throw herself at you if she got the chance, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Jin laughed, getting up and pulling on his suit. 

        It was sort of a uniform, black linen pants and a white button up. This was paired with a navy blue suit jacket that had his badge in the pocket. He went to the bathroom to comb his hair and brush his teeth, mumbling something about there being a lack of room service at this motel. Namjoon just chuckled at his grumbling and got dressed as well. He wore black pants, like Jin, and a white button up shirt, except his suit jacket was a faded brown. 

“You always bring up Y/N, it’s almost like you like her too.” Namjoon pointed an accusing finger at his partner. 

“And what if I did?” 

“Well it would be unfair because I met her first.” 

“You can’t just claim women, Joonie.” He rolled his eyes and opened the heavy hotel room door. 

“I’ll do what I want.”

“You say that now, but we all know she has you whipped.” 

“Who has who whipped?” Jungkook’s curious voice echoed through the hallway. Jin spun on his heel to face the maknae. 

“Now look what you’ve done.” Jin glared at Namjoon who just shrugged innocently. 

“I’m just kidding.” Jungkook sighed. “I’m not as innocent as you guys think I am.” He wandered down the stairs, finally getting tired of acting dumb, the Chief and Second in Command now following him. 

“Elaborate.” Namjoon demanded. 

“Oh please, you guys actually bought that I was that oblivious?” He sat down, ignoring the other men at the table whose conversation came to a halt at the sight of them. 

“Well, I-” Jin’s face was red. 

“Come on, I know Taehyung and Yoongi are practically eye fucking each other every minute and quite literally fucking each other every night. Please keep it down guys.” The youngest pointed a finger at the two men sitting next to each other. They looked away with a huff, but their faces were red. 

“And You two.” He turned to Namjoon and Jin. “You make me sick, really. You’re so cute and reliable. Then you go and flaunt your cuteness to everyone. We all see it! Hoseok and Jimin-guys, just ask each other out already!” 

      There was a long silence. Jungkook shrunk back in his seat, bravado gone, now worried he took it a little too far. 

“Kookie, you’re not aware of the full story here.” Namjoon chuckled after a tense moment, the noise echoed by the other men at the table.

“You really want to tell him?” Jin eyed Joon warily. 

“It’s time he knows.” Taehyung sighed. 

“What? Know what?” Jungkook felt the bubble of envy in his stomach. They kept so many things from him; little secret, jokes. One time they forgot to invite Jungkook to his own surprise party. 

“Well,” Jimin reached out and grabbed Namjoon’s hand. “We’re actually...all together already.” 

“Oh.” The younger’s voice was soft, trying not to betray the emotions flowing through him. They were all dating? And without him? Was he fucking seventh wheeling??? “Without me?” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

      Jin started laughing his windshield wiper laugh as Hoseok smiled. Taehyung and Yoongi exchanged glances. 

“That was an unexpected answer.” Yoongi muttered under his breath. 

“That’s what we wanted to talk about this morning.” Jimin said soothingly, touch relaxing Jungkook easily. “We want you to join us.” 

“R-really?” 

“Yes.” Taehyung nodded quickly. 

“Is that a yes?” Hoseok asked, watching Jungkook’s mouth open and close. The sounds of the guests around him went underwater. He couldn’t hear anything, emotions spiraling out of control. All six of them? It was insane. But then he couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else. 

“Yes.” He said quietly. “Yes!” He said again, louder. Namjoon smiled, cupping his chin with his slender fingers. 

“Then, may I?” He asked for permission softly. 

        Jungkook simply nodded and Namjoon tentatively placed his lips against his. It was quick, brief, one might even think it was an accident if it hadn’t been for Namjoon’s hand on his chin. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, baby, it’s just that...this is a small town. That’s why we’re trying not to be very open.” 

“Oh, I see.” Jungkook refused to pout. He wanted to have some big romantic story, but that would have to wait. They were trying to solve a series of murders, dammit. 

“We should get going.” Yoongi glanced at his watch and the others agreed, standing and taking their suit jackets off the backs of their chairs. 

    The morning breakfast rush had dissipated, now only the metal containers of bacon and eggs left. The place was just as dusty as the police station and it made Jungkook’s nose twitch with the urge to sneeze. 

“Why is everything so dusty here?” Jimin complained, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. 

“Yeah, it’s making me-” Taehyung was interrupted by the loud sneeze that escaped his mouth. 

“Bless you.” Yoongi responded immediately, rubbing Taehyung’s back caringly.

     It was the first sign of affection Yoongi had openly given Taehyung. They were alone, for one, and for two, Taehyung seemed a little down today, just a little sad. 

“Let’s get going, Hak-kun should be in his apartment still, according to the schedule Hae-won gave us.” Jin checked his phone to pull up the screenshot. 

“Why does she have his schedule?” Jimin asked innocently. 

“It’s a small town, who knows?” Yoongi pressed his lips into a thin line. 

Knock knock knock. Namjoon waited patiently, his partners waiting near the car so as to not scare Hak-kun off. There was the sound of footsteps and a loud groan. The door opened a crack, stopped by the chain inside. 

“Who are you?” The voice was gruff. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon from the Bangtan Police Department. I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding the murders of Jane Doe, Mun-hee, and others.” 

“Okay one second.” The voice was more awake this time as he shut the door. The chain rattled on the other side and then the door opened fully. A man stood in clothes that looked like he’d slept in them. Namjoon immediately recognized him as their rude waiter. 

“Had a rough night?” He tried to be pleasant. 

“Yeah, slept in the car again. The damn heater broke in my apartment.” The man grumbled, stepping aside to let him in. When Namjoon walked in, already tense, his eyes had to adjust to the darkness. 

      Despite the thin streams of light shining through the slats in his windows, the room was in utter darkness. As he adjusted, he could make out piles of clothing on the floor, dishes in the sink, unwashed, and cups littering the floor. There was also an odd assortment of broken items in the corner of the room, hidden in the darkness. 

      It looked like someone threw a rager in this house and then left. The brown haired police chief was surprised anyone could be this messy. Like, he was messy, yes, but he would never let himself degenerate to this state. 

“What do you need to know?” Hak-kun somehow found a place to sit on the couch, but it had a dent carved in it and Namjoon was sure that was the only place you could sit on that couch. 

“Actually, we have a warrant for your arrest due to substantial evidence implicating you in the murder of Mun-hee.” Namjoon dug around his pockets and took out the papers. 

“Oh, I see.” Hak-kun’s eyes didn’t quite meet Namjoon’s. He looked around, jaw clenching in signs of annoyance. 

“What’s that?” The chief asked, pointing to the broken objects in the corner of the room. The man’s nostrils flared in anger. 

“I just get mad sometimes and things happen, okay?” He snapped. “I’ll go with you willingly, I have nothing to hide.” Hak-kun stood and dusted off his pants, though they were already dirty with food stains. 

Namjoon grimaced and nodded, in a hurry to leave the dirty apartment. 

Audio recording #1:

MYG: Is it alright if we record this?

HK: Yeah, it’s fine. 

MYG: Great, okay, please tell us how you are connected to Mun-hee. 

HK: Mun-hee...ah, Mun-hee. We went to school together. Wait, can I get a glass of water or something? I have a splitting headache. 

MYG: Of course. 

KTH: So you knew her?

HK: Hah, well, we grew up together.  It was often just us, this stupid town, the old schools. A lot of kids come here because it’s the closest school around these parts, but only a couple actually live here. 

MYG: Who else lives here?

HK: Hm, there was me, Mun-hee, Joo-Eun, and another girl, her name is slipping my mind. 

KTH: You grew up with these people, though, how do you not know their names?

HK: She was always easily forgettable. She’s not much trouble though, I remember her being a nice girl...until, nevermind.

MYG: Until what?

HK: It’s not my place to say. 

KTH: Well it would do you good to say it.

MYG (muffled): Taehyung get it together. 

HK: I don’t want to talk about it. 

MYG: That’s alright, Hak-kun, I can call you that, right?

HK: Yeah. 

MYG: What do you remember about last saturday? 

HK: Not much. I remember I drank some weird shit at the party-

MYG: The same one Mun-hee went to?

HK: Yes. 

MYG: And why were you there, Hak-kun. 

HK: Mun-hee is, was, my friend, sir. I would never do anything to hurt her, if that’s what you’re wondering. Listen, I know you guys are trying your best, but just drop it. I have nothing to do with it. That tie went missing long before Mun-hee’s body was found. I’ve obviously been framed and you stupid ass-

MYG: Okay, I think that’s enough for today. Thank you for coming, Sir. Please calm down or we’ll be forced to detain you. 

HK: DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, ASSHO-

Beep. 

“Well that was certainly insightful.” Yoongi mumbled, glancing over to where Hak-kun sat, dejected, in his cell. Taehyung sighed and played the tape again, taking more notes of the important information along with his personal thoughts. 

“I thought you guys were supposed to be good at this.” Namjoon eyed the two with a raised eyebrow. 

“Joonie, he was a difficult person to interview. I could tell he was annoyed the entire time except when he spoke of Mun-hee.” Taehyung frowned, flipping through his notes. “Here, I wrote down ‘aggressively making eye contact and frowning.’”

“Are those seriously your notes?” Yoongi looked through his notes which were pages longer. “Do I need to train you in note taking as well?” 

“No! I just, I don’t notice as much as you, oh wise Yoongles.” Taehyung crossed his arms, pouting. Yoongi just softened his expression. 

“You can always tell me what’s wrong.” He placed a tentative hand on Taehyung’s arm. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Hae-won’s soft voice hovered in the air. She was closing the door of the security room behind her. 

     Jin often handled the security room, but he trusted her to watch Hak-kun while he went to the bathroom. Jin slipped back in as she stepped into the room with the others. 

      Yoongi immediately dropped his hand, to the disappointment of Taehyung, and straightened. A cold look once again cast over his face. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to let you know that I have to head back early to finish up some school work.” She explained with a gentle smile. 

“Okay, rest up and study well.” Namjoon nodded and she dipped her head, heading out the door. They all stared fondly at her retreating form. “The same goes for the rest of you.” 

       They had spent all day just interviewing and wrestling answers out of Hak-kun and yet they came up empty every time. Maybe he was truly innocent and they were trying to convict a good man. This was the kind of case where things could get really messy if they kept going on intuition instead of hard facts. 

“Let’s wrap it up and head back to the hotel. Jin, are you coming?” Namjoon called as the others filed out of the station. 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna check some things and then I’ll be back in no time.” 

Trusting his second in command, Namjoon left. 

      The first sunlight was filtering through the windows of an empty cell. A glass of water was on the ground next to the cot, tipped over, the ground wet beneath it. 

“How could he have escaped? Where did he go?” 

-

Hands reached out to the unsuspecting man. 

“Do you have a headache? You look in pain.” The voice said, hiding the glinting blade in the moonlight. 

“Who are you?”

“Just a nice person. I have something that could really help.” 

“What is it?”

“Oh, just some medication for headaches. It works wonders.” 

“Pass it here.” 

The man is passed out soon enough and the shadowy figure grabs the keys off one of the hooks in the back and unlocks his cell. Then the figure dragged him out, put him in his car, slit his throat, and placed his face down at the dashboard. They were back home in 10 minutes, bloodlust satisfied. 

-

“The feed is just looping. How did I not notice this before?” Jin mumbled, head in his hands. 

“Hey, it’s okay, the killer was...tricky.” Namjoon comforted his lover. 

“Boss.” Jungkook piped up, holding a phone in the air. “It’s for you.” 

     The chief of police stood and walked over with purposeful steps. It was easy to see why he was the chief. He was sure of himself, walked with purpose, passion, and he always looked like he had a mission. 

“Mhm?” He murmured. “This is he. What? How did it get there? Okay, okay, I’ll send my best men out to investigate. Please hang in there and don’t touch anything.” He hung up, rushing to throw on his suit jacket. “Hak-kun’s body was just found.”

“Where?” Jimin stood as well and the others followed suit. 

“In his car. No one disturbed him, claimed he slept in his car all the time and no one thought much of it. It’s just...so odd.” Namjoon sighed. 

“Why?” Yoongi tilted his head. Their fearless leader wasn’t usually thrown by anything, always keeping a cool facade. But here he seemed to be cracking. 

“His car was found across town.” He raced out the door, watching the others pile in and Jin took the driver’s seat. “I just feel like this case is getting away from us. We’re obviously missing something.” The chief stared out the window, thinking intensely. The other members knew not to make too much noise. 

“Do you think...it’s time to bring someone else in?” Taehyung asked quietly. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook said defensively. 

“I mean,” Taehyung shot the younger boy a look that shut him up. “That we may need more of a specialist in here. There’s one thing we haven’t been able to look at.”

“And that is?” Yoongi closed his eyes lazily as he leaned back in his seat. 

“Blood. We haven’t been able to test the blood.” 

“Well, we only know one reliable person who can do that and she’s probably very busy.” Jin scolded the younger males. “But it’s a good idea.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Let’s just take a look and then we can decide.” 

      The street they pulled up to was quiet, not a person in sight. The leaves shifted in the breeze, skittering across the ground. It made for an uneasy sight. They stepped out and Jin locked the car. 

     Jimin handed out gloves and then he went around, feeling over the creases of the blue car, completely ignoring the dead body inside. 

“Found anything interesting?” Jungkook called. 

“Nope.” Jimin responded flatly, concentrated. He peered inside, seeing the blood pooling on the dashboard and dripping into Hak-kun’s lap.

 “I think it’s definitely the same killer. He has the same neck slice.” He felt over the windows. Not a single scratch. “No signs of forced entry or struggle with the car.” He dictated as Hoseok took careful notes. 

“I see no bruising visible on the victim, wait.” He crawled onto the back of the car, peering through the back window. “I see some purple markings on the back of the victim.” 

    The shadowy figure dragged Hak-kun, his back bumping over every curve, spine taking the brunt of the blows. He moaned in pain, starting to stir. The figure panicked. They need to get this over with quickly. 

“Anything else?” Hoseok asked. 

“No, I’d have to see the inside.” Jimin sighed, brushing some hair out of his face. 

“We’ll see what we can do to get the keys.” Namjoon nodded at Hoseok to write that down. 

“This case has me stumped, Namjoon. Obviously, the killer must be drugging them, how else can they get away with all this with no struggle?” Jimin stretched his arms. 

“It’s confusing to me too, but I’m sure we’ll find out something soon enough.” 

“Namjoon, I think we all know who we need to call.” Yoongi set a firm hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and the police chief’s shoulders drooped. 

“But I don’t want to bother her, besides I think we can figure it out, right?” 

“This is her job, It’s time to man up and call Y/N.”

A/N p.2: Hey guys! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! Any predictions yet? I’m sorry this took so long, I was in a creative block

Other: 

Previous (teaser) | Next 

So- people seem to be curious about what happened prior to the drawing I made of gar grunkle Stan and sphynx Ford, thus I decided to try some writing? Just a short to explain what is going on. If it gets too long and boring for anyone who's curious about the story to that picture can simply scroll down all the way. I'll put a summary there so I don't spoil anything to someone who'd like to read through this.

Now, without any further ado, let us begin!

Stone cold treatment

a "short" monsterfalls story

Stone. One of the thing a living creature would never like to be. Alive, but not really, trapped underneath a shell of stone. Able to hear, able to feel everything, yet unable to do anything about what you heard or felt. That was how he'd been feeling ever since the first time he turned to stone. It was natural for a gargoyle like himself, thus one would think he is be able to control it, right? But he was not. Ever since he turned into a gargoyle, Stanley Pines simply couldn't control this new ability of his; the ability of turning to stone. The first time it happened, it was a brand new, terrifying experience, and it was honestly no different each time it happened without his control. This one time, however, it was a bazillion times worse.

His nephew Dipper and worker Wendy were hanging out in the back yard of the Shack when it happened. He was sitting there on the porch by his niece, Mabel, who was basking in her small pool, cheering for her brother and Wendy. The two of them had been having a hard time adjusting to their new forms, too, but honestly, who hadn't? Dipper had trouble walking, thus he required quite the bit of practice. It took him a while to even make it to the back yard. Luckily, he had his family and friends to help him out once he quit his "I can do it on my own" phase of his walks. That was partially why Wendy was there. She was helping him walk, watching over the cervitaur and his attempts to get a hang of walking on fours. It was for her own benefit, too. Wendy was a werewolf and ever since her transformation had trouble handling herself when it came to wildlife. She'd been struggling with pouncing and attacking things that seemed huntable, making it especially hard to keep it cool around Dipper who was half deer.

She honestly wanted to stop seeing Dipper and giving up her job at the Shack just to keep him safe. She would've done it if it wasn't for Grunkle Stan, who encouraged her and convinced her to try and get a hold of her new wild tendencies. He promised to provide supervision over the two in case something went wrong, but fortunately, everything had been going smoothly. Soon enough, Dipper's slow trots turned into faster paces back and forth with Wendy by his side. “You're doing great, deer brother!” Mabel cheered, giggling over her own joke. Wendy gave a light laugh whilst Dipper's cheeks flushed a tint of red as he yelled back: “Not funny when you say it all the time, Mabel!” “Come 'ere you dork! ” Wendy laughed as she ruffled the cervitaur's hair, receiving quite the nervous laugh in response from the now bright red boy. Stan gave a light chuckle himself. Everyone was having fun. There was nothing to worry about, he thought. For once after this huge change in his and everyone's lives, Stan felt at peace. He felt like he could rest without things turning against him. Close his eyes and...relax. And so he did. Stan let his eyes close, leaning back into the backrest of the scruffy couch on the porch gently, minding his wings as he didn't lean in completely.

The next thing he knew, however, he heard a yell. His niece was yelling for help. “Grunkle Stan!! Grunkle Stan, do something!!” she cried, but to no avail. Her great uncle Stan gave no response, simply resting upon the cushions of the couch without a single twitch despite what was going on. Despite the loud snarling, growling and yelling of both his niece and nephew who begged for help. It was happening again. His eyes wouldn't open, his arms and legs wouldn't listen, but he could hear it. He could hear it all. The terror in Dipper's voice as he yelled “Wendy stop! P-please!!”; the dismay in Mabel's voice as she begged for her grunkle to do something- anything! Mabel herself couldn't do much. She was a mermaid and she couldn't leave her pool just like that. It were times like these that she wished she'd turned into something alike to Dipper, with an extra pair of legs instead of none. Stan began to panic. He couldn't see, say or do anything despite how much he tried to. The stony shell he'd formed once he relaxed his body held him prisoner, making him listen helplessly as his nephew was chased about, getting hurt- or worse. It was alike to a nightmare in which you couldn't do anything to save the day, only watch as your loved ones were taken away. Or in Stan's case, listen.

It wasn't till he heard the door fly open by his side and his niece cry out his brother's name that a brief wave of relief washed over him. “Grunkle Ford!!” Mabel called as her great uncle Ford rushed out of the house, ready to tackle whatever danger his grandniece and nephew stood against. A roar from the Sphinx, cries and whining followed and then – silence. Everything went silent. Was it over? Was everyone alright?

Stan felt his panic ease up along with the stone keeping him in place. Hearing it crackle, he didn't hesitate another second and broke free, lunging forth. He caught his balance and stepped out towards what he assumed was his nephew, brother and Wendy, his vision blurry at first. He could see it all clearly within a moment's notice: his brother, standing tall with Dipper cradled in his arms, Wendy pinned under one of his feet.

“Dear Mozes! Are ya kids alright?! Dipper, are ya--” Stan exclaimed in concern as he approached almost instantly, receiving a piercing glare from his brother that made him stop in his tracks. Ford looked mad, mad at him, but for what? He didn't do anything wrong- “Stanley what were you thinking? Do you have any idea what could've- no, what would've happened if I weren't near by?? You've left the children unsupervised and you know how troublesome it is with the young Corduroy these days!” Ford yelled in his Stan's face, who simply stared down at the bloody wound on Dipper's side held by his brother in silence. “I am sorry, it wasn' intentional! I-I've been watchin' the kids, I swear! I jus'- i-it happened again and I- ya know I can't control it!” “Well then maybe you should!” “W-wha-” “Maybe you should know how to control it! Maybe you should do your best to learn to control it instead of sitting around, drinking soda and watching as your nephew gets torn to shreds!! Quit acting like a child and be the adult these children need you to be!” With that, neither of them spoke no more, only exchanged looks. A look of disappointment and anger piercing through that of defeat and guilt. Mabel watched silently as the two older twins parted their ways.

Ford made his way inside to tend to Dipper's wound while Stan took care of Wendy, then his niece, bringing her into a small preset pool in the living room. He said nothing when Mabel tried to tell him it was not his fault, because he knew better. It was his and his fault only. He offered to watch them and he failed. After bringing Mabel some snacks for the time she'd have to wait for his and her brothers' return from the bathroom, he left, not to be seen again for the rest of the day.

The shack was silent from there. Mabel was already fast asleep by the time Ford returned with his nephew bandaged up and asleep in his arms. He set the cervitaur into the armchair by Mabel's side, putting a blanket over him before he left for his room, making sure the shack was locked and secure before he himself retired to sleep.

The next day started alike to any other day. Ford went down into his study in the early morning like he always did, trying to find a way to reverse the effects of the mythical river Fluvius Cantus on himself, his family, and the whole town. It was around 10 AM that his niece called out for him upstairs. Bless his enhanced hearing on this one, for her call sounded once again like an emergency.

“I am coming!” The sphinx yelled as he rushed upstairs, only to find Mabel's call was not quite due to what he imagined. He found his niece and nephew in the living room, both awake and, inarguably, worried. The two of them were surrounded by the packets of snacks Stan had brought them yesterday, and shortly, Mabel was explaining why accordingly to Ford's questions. “What is the problem children? Did something happen? What's with all the packets?” “Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan hasn't shown up since yesterday!” “Yeah, we're worried.” Dipper added weakly. “He left me some snacks yesterday while I was waiting for you and Dipper and I haven't seen him since! We had to eat those for breakfast when he didn't show up to make some...” “Grunkle Stan never leaves just like that,” “Not without rambling about his 'evil' plans for the day,” “Wendy hasn't shown up, either, do you have any idea where the two of them could've gone?” Dipper asked, shooting his grunkle a worried look.

Stan was missing? He knew where the young Corduroy had gone- earlier that morning, she'd called to apologize for yesterday to which Ford advised her to take some time off and try meditation to handle her inner demons. Stan, however, had no reason to be missing. “I've told your friend Wendy to take some time off and gather herself, but I have no knowledge of my brother's whereabouts. Perhaps he'd left to commit some sort of misdeed of his, or restock for the Shack, who knows.” Ford commented, crossing his arms behind his back in thought. “Could you please look for him Grunkle Ford? Pretty please?” Mabel pleaded, holding her hands together as she puppy-eyed her great uncle. Ford was powerless against those eyes. “I suppose I could take a look around the Shack...” he murmured. “YAY! Thanks Grunkle Ford!” Mabel exclaimed, beaming. Dipper smiled lightly as the two of them watched their great uncle leave to check the shack for Stan, awaiting his return while turning on some Duck-tective to shorten their wait, although the two of them chattered about their Grunkle in worry for the main part, anyways.

Ford searched the whole interior of the shack in search for his brother. The bathroom, the attic, the bedrooms, museum, everywhere. It was when his search inside was in vein that he walked outside to look there. Fortunately for him, he could very easily look over the entire shack by taking a soar through the sky. Spreading his wings wide as he stepped out at the back of the shack, he was about to take off when he spot something with the corner of his eye. There he was. There was no mistaking the gargoyle statue settled atop the roof looming over the porch. Wheeling around, Ford looked up to his brother, closing his wings as he spoke. “You've been here this whole time? Hiding like a child? Stanley, the children are worried sick. I searched the entire shack in attempts to calm their concerns. Did you even think about that? About them?” He questioned, yet his twin gave no response. “You won't talk to me, will you? Well I don't have to bother, either. I shall tell Mabel and Dipper about your whereabouts. If you have any sort of conscience you'll come down and apologize. Don't leave the children waiting.” And once again, the older twin was on his leave, coming inside to inform his niece and nephew of Stan's safety.

Throughout the rest of the day, the twins were expecting their Grunkle intently, although to no avail. He didn't show up for the rest of the day, leaving Ford to take care of the twins on his own. The next day went down alike to the last one. No Stan, only Ford, having to drop his daily research to care for the twins. Change Dipper's bandages, check his wounds, change the water in Mabel's pool, feed the two, all that and more. He never thought his brother did so much for the kids and didn't just slack off. There were times the children asked to see their other great uncle, and so, eventually, Ford did bring the two of them outside to show them their Grunkle Stan. Nothing. Despite their attempts to call out to their Grunkle, the twins didn't get a response, either. It pained them to see their Grunkle like that, for they knew how much he disliked when he turned to stone, yet they knew that this time, it was possibly his own choice. Nonetheless, though, they couldn't help but ask a few questions. “Is this permanent?” “Is Grunkle Stan alright?” they questioned almost in sync. It was when Ford realised that, honestly “I don't know...” He had no idea whether his brother was ok, whether he was going to be alright, whether he would stay like this forever. The fact that the last thing he said to him was that he was pretty much a horrible caretaker with tendencies beyond childish didn't help him feel any better. This could all actually be his fault. Stan came out here and turned to stone just because he thought how worthless he was. It only made sense. He'd probably have to apologize to get him off the roof eventually, for the kids' sake if anything. Maybe he just needed some time? “Let's get you two back indoors, I'll find a way to get your great uncle off the roof.”

And with that, the three of them headed back inside. Soon enough, Ford tucked the twins in, although he couldn't quite sleep himself. He kept on thinking about Stanley, whether he should or shouldn't apologize. He was still angry about his brother's habits, but thinking about it now, Stanley really didn't mean it. He was in no control of what happend, and what happened happened. Perhaps he could help him control it? Help him meditate and learn how to take cont- BOOM! The loud sound of thunder interrupted his train of thought. It was past midnight when the storm struck up, waking up the twins upstairs. “AAAAH!!! Grunkle Ford!!” They screamed. Ford ran out of his room almost immediately, rushing up into the twins' bedroom to check up on the two. “Don't worry kids! It's just a storm... It'll be over shortly.” Ford said as he came into the room, trying to comfort the two. “B-but Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan is still outside! Could you please go check on him?“ Mabel asked with worry in her pleading eyes. It seemed they were not afraid of the storm itself, but afraid of what could happen to their Grunkle.

“Alright, stay here, I'll be back shortly.” Without any further hesitation, Ford left the shack for the back yard, stopping in front of the porch. With a light flap of his wings, he brought himself to the rooftop his brother sat upon, landing by his side as the rain slowly drenched his clothes. “Stanley!” Stanford called, grumbling lowly as another lightning struck, shaking the ground with its shortly following thunder. Frowning, the older twin spread a wing out over his brother to shield him off from the rain, leaning forward in attempts to see into his brother's face. “Stanley, the children are worried, quit this little act and get inside!” No response. Sighing, Ford settled down by Stan's side, keeping a wing spread overhead to keep him out of the heavy rain, although to a stone statue, it mattered none. Glancing aside, Stanford grumbled, setting his hands into his lap as he began his little confrontation. “Quit acting like a child, Stanley, it’s been three days... I am sorry, okay? I know you can't control it. I know you couldn't when Wendy attacked Dipper and I know it wasn't your intention. The things you do for the kids, the way you treat them... I know you would never intentionally stone yourself and let them get hurt. I was angry, I was afraid. Afraid of what could've happened if I hadn't come in time. I am sorry that I blamed you for something out of your control. Please, come inside and stop punishing yourself like this. I can try to help you with controlling it, help you learn how to prevent it just...please don't do this to yourself... To the kids... To me...” Receiving no response, the older twin looked down helplessly, giving a heavy sigh. “I-” “What do ya think I've been doing?” Ford started, only to be cut off by- Stanley. Dazed by the sudden response, the sphinx had a hard time speaking again, stammering. “W-w--what do you mean..?” “I am not stupid, Ford. I know I have no control over it, and I know I shoulda learn how to control it. So I've been here, tryin' ta' learn how ta' do it.” Stan explained as he lowered his wings, the stony shell around him crackling and falling off slowly, leaving the gargoyle dry and refreshed. “W-wait- so you are...you were not doing this to punish yourself...? You were not angry with me?” Ford questioned as the two of them met eyes. “Oh, no no, I was angry with ya, Poindexter. Glad ya figured ya'd come apologize now. I was about ta' give up to da rain. Don't get me wrong, da rain's nice, but the thunder part of it all is unnecessary.” “...So you were childishly ignoring me.” “Maaaybe?” This received Stan a light shove and almost immediately after a tight hug around the neck with a nuggie that almost instantly threw his fez off into his lap. “You little!-” “Little what?!” Stan exclaimed in between his chuckles, tackling his brother off the roof with laughter. It was a safe fall for the two of them, leaving them playfully rolling about in the mud on the ground as they laughed together, soon sitting up with light chuckles and huff while the rain slowly washed bits of the mud away. “Sixer?” “Yes, Stanley?” “Sorry fer actin' like an oversized kid.” “Heh... Sorry for acting like an adult know-it-all.” “Apology accepted.” “I suppose I need to ease up a little.” “I guess I need ta' grow up a little.” The two of them said in sync, laughing before smiling at eachother.

“GRUNKLE STAN!! GRUNKLE FORD!! ARE YOU GUYS-- oh...” The cervitaur kicking the back door of the shack yelled, carrying his sister on his back. The two of them were sure they'd just seen the two of them argue and fall off the roof in a scuffle- then again, it was hard to actually make out what they were saying through the window. “Dipper my boy, you-- you made it down the stairs? On your own? With Mabel on your back?” “I-” Dipper blushed. “Y-yeah I- I guess I just uh- we needed to check on you guys and- I am sorry I didn't listen-” “Don't be sorry, Dipper, you listened to your instincts and those told you your family might be in trouble. You acted very selflessly. I would've done the same. I am proud of you.” The sphinx and the cervitaur exchanged a smile, although it was soon replaced by an expression of shock as Mabel yelled: “Could you guys stop nerding out about this and focus on the important stuff?!” “Ouch-” Dipper huffed. “Grunkle Stan is back! And you guys made up! But uh- we should get inside. You guys could catch a cold and I am gonna *huff* I am gonna suffocate here.” “Ah- yes, let's get all back inside, quickly. Dipper, I'll need to check your bandages! Stanley, could you take care of Mabel?” “Sure thing Poindexter!” With that, the two of them stood, coming up to cradle their respective twins in their arms to care for them inside.

Getting a little moisture from her great uncle's wet suit, Mabel smiled as she was carried towards her pool, looking up to her Grunkle with a murmur: “I am glad you're back Grunkle Stan.” “I am glad ta' be back, too.”

WELP- Here you have it guys! This was one hell of a ride. It's the longest and the first thing I ever wrote and actually published. Is it good? Is it not? Who knows! I tried to keep it as short as possible. Hope you guys like the answer to what happened prior this picture:

Either way, hope you're having a swell day!

And as for the promised summary:

Summary: Grunkle Stan and the kids have a little accident with Dipper and Wendy, which Grunkle Stan sits through, being in his stone form. This angers Ford and he tells him to learn how to control it. From there, Stan disappears and is nowhere to be found, only to be later discovered on the roof in his statue form. He is irresponsive, everyone os worried, but in the end, everything turns out well.

Don’t Call Me Angel - Detective Meares x Reader (Needle)

GIF CREDIT: X 

All responsibility out the window here, I can’t claim any, it’s all Mendo Nation’s fault! No seriously they came up with it, I’m innocent I swear!

Author’s Note: “How did we get here!? Who brought us here!?” 

I stg, @mendelskrull​ and @crawlingmist​ started me on this damn man with digging up (and creating) gifs I didn’t even realise were a thing. And then I was like ‘you know I think I can probably get something out of him!’ and kinda dismissed that 500 words as all we were ever going to get.

Oh no. Then - rightfully so! - I did some campaigning for him on Twitter polls and now I’m here. 

I digress. I wrote more for Meares, and you’re welcome.

Disclaimer: This is not my idea/plot and is a joint effort of the Mendo Nation - who let me go ahead and write it / Needle naught to do with me / gifs & lyrics not mine

Premise: When Meares turns up at a crime scene and finds a second potential victim he’ll do anything to see the killer brought to justice, for her. If he can figure out who the killer is...

Words: 8277

Warnings: TW potential rape discussed / sexual connotations / sexual pre-amble / swearing / kidnap / I really tried to make that last scene as far from non-con as I possibly could but I still want to put a warning for it jic.

____

Don't call me angel when I'm a mess Don't call me angel when I get undressed You know I, I don't like that, boy I make my money, and I write the checks So say my name with a little respect All my girls successful, and you're just our guest Do I really need to say it? Do I need to say it again, yeah? You better stop the sweet talk And keep your pretty mouth shut Boy, don't call me angel, You ain't got me right Don't call me angel, You can't pay my price Ain't from no Heaven,Yeah, you heard me right Even though you know we fly, Don't call me angel You sizin' up my body, oh yeah Don't you know that I bite when the sun set?  So don't you try come around me Might work with her, but not me, oh yeah Don't you know that I bite when the sun set? Keep my name out your mouth I know what you about So keep my name out your mouth I appreciate the way you watch me, I can't lie I drop it down, I pick it up, I back it off the county line I fell from Heaven, now I'm living like a devil You can't get me off your mind I appreciate the way you want me, I can't lie I drop it low, I back it up, I know you wanna think you're mine Baby, I totally get it, you can't guess so You can't get me off your mind We in it together, but don't call me angel

---

Abandoned building in the middle of nowhere – that wasn’t so unusual, not for a crime scene anyway. This was the kind of place he half expected to be sent to. Not that he particularly wanted to go – another Detective had been on the case this morning, but apparently something a little more interesting had come up for them and so Meares was thrown the file. ‘So… where’s my crime scene?’ in fact, he wasn’t even sure he was in the right place by the fact there appeared to be no officers guarding the scene. Only the tape strung across the front of the building let him know that’s exactly where he wanted to be. Maybe they’d all just been lazy and decided to clock off for the evening? He ducked under the tape and flicked his torch on, which he still needed because the lights in the warehouse were so goddamn dim. But why had everyone left? The sheet was still over the body and to him that only signalled that the scene had yet to be fully processed. ‘Fucking bastards sending me out here…’  He huffed, ‘If they’ve all miked off drinking I swear to GO---D.’ He noticed how he was also alone out here and his partner, Detective Reddick, didn’t want to bother driving across town for it either. “Aw, nah, it’ll only take one of us. Report back..!” Cursing again, Meares approached the victim, he supposed he might have to start this alone. Bending over he grasped the corner of the white sheet delicately – having learned from previous crime scene interactions that sometimes he could be a little too flamboyant in his actions and there’d been a few ‘incidents’ – and stood to height as he pulled the fabric back from the body. Respect the victim - a little easier when he was alone… Meares guessed that sometimes he just liked being a show off and it was an unfortunate trait he couldn’t help. He jumped as he surveyed the body, just one glance over – his stumbled footsteps echoed around the warehouse, adding to the eerie atmosphere. Meares checked his papers, then the body, then the papers again, then the body… That was not a ‘white male, 20s, average build, deep lacerations, bruising and ligature marks’. This was a very naked (but very beautiful) woman; possibly around the same age bracket - but the body itself looked intact. “Okay. Who is out here pranking me now!?” Had someone switched files? Had someone told him the wrong location? No, no, how often did that happen? Everything else about his file was right, apart from the body. Meares tipped his head, tongue between his lips as he drew his eyes back up her. He rolled it with a small tsk sound, and then knew he was smirking. It was probably very inappropriate to think that a potential victim was hot, even when it was as confusing as to why this was the body in front of him. But her form dipped and curved in just the right places, her skin very nearly perfect… Meares wouldn’t have guessed she’d been dead too long, but also didn’t see any way that she could have died. He stepped carefully around her, her eyes may have been closed but she had an Angel face to match her body, Meares thought hard; ‘more importantly, why is she at my crime scene? And if she is here… where is the real body?’ He let his eyes linger on her for a little too long, and felt that guilty blush build up on his cheeks, travelling fairly swiftly to his neck… but the rush of blood travelled a little further than expected. NO. NO. C’mon, man… He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. But found himself suddenly sad that she was the victim; of course, every victim was difficult but as a detective he had to do his best to separate- “Is it her or her body, though? C’mon. You have nooo idea what she’s-” Meares paused, “Aw, great, I’ve finally cracked I’m talking to myself at a crime scene.” He stopped his walk, palm to his forehead for a minute, “Well, nothing like an expert opinion!” He looked her body over again. No, he was fairly certain there was no obvious sign of trauma. Nor anything to indicate any other type of foul play. And it still bothered him that the body was supposed to be male-! ‘It sure does feel like a set up…’ And of course, forensics had all cleared off. He took one more step towards her; maybe Meares just wasn’t thinking clearly enough. ‘Too distracted, obviously.’ But also maybe he just wasn’t looking closely enough. His eyes lingered on her face ‘Who are you? Why are you here? Who did this to you..? C’mon, darling, I need answers…’ Meares didn’t have a chance to think much more than that; her eyes snapped open. If he thought he’d jumped back before, his string of yelled expletives matched the pounding of his heart in his chest as his adrenaline spiked. Yeah, dead bodies did that, occasionally – but dead bodies did not then take dry choked breaths that then became something close to strangled sobs. That didn’t surprise Meares either; she’d practically been declared dead, she was in a middle-of-nowhere warehouse, naked, and a male detective was now standing over her and – by his own admittance – probably looking a little leery. When her eyes focused on him all he saw on her face was terror, she pulled her knees up, arms around her body to cover herself as she attempted to scramble away. Meares threw his hands up, immediately going for his badge, “Hey, hey! It’s okay! It’s okay! My name’s Detective Meares. It’s alright – I’m here to help… I promise… you’re alright now.” He wasn’t sure she trusted him, and her nails dug hard into her skin. Meares shrugged himself out of his jacket, levelling his voice off in hushed tones. “You gave me quite a scare there you know?!” He smiled as he held it out for her, “I’m here to investigate a body, although believe me I’m glad you’re not one… take it. It’s okay… We should probably get you outta here…” He watched her slip it on, buttoning the front up to look as modest as possible, but she still shivered. “You… got a name?” Her eyes raised back to his face, but suddenly she shook her head, “I don’t…” “Remember?” Her nod was certainly sad and he didn’t want her to panic and spiral, but anything he could get now would aid his case greatly, “Do you remember anything? Why you’re here, what happened? Anything about who did this? What about your clothes honey, do you know what you were wearing?” She continued to shake her head, and Meares certainly didn’t want to stress her out any more than he had to. “Okay, it’s okay, this happens. I’m sure it’ll come to you. It’s all going to be fine. But, I should really get you over to a hospital.” “I don’t-” “Honey it’s procedure, I don’t have much of a choice,” he held his hand out for her, “you’re safe with me. No one is going to hurt you.” She placed her hand in his delicately, and Meares felt like he was going on some kind of power trip, but not a bad kind of trip; she trusted him. He was going to protect her now, that was his duty. He pulled her up, trying to keep his eyes on her face. “Thank you.” “Hey, we’re not there yet, you can thank me later. Let’s make sure you’re all okay, right now. Come on, I’ll get you to the car and get you warmed up.” He didn’t touch her as he led her to it, opening the door; Meares would put the heat on for her, he’d pull up to the hospital and they could do tests and maybe he’d get some more evidence from her… And she’d remember too, once she was over the shock, he was sure. He slid his mobile out of his pocket, calling his partner as he jogged around to the driver’s side of the car, indicated that he should meet Meares at the hospital and they could figure it out from there. The detective paused, looking back at the building for just a moment as he opened the door… There was just once problem he couldn’t quite figure out here. “Where the fuck is my actual body, though?!”

** You kept glancing across to the detective as he sped towards the hospital, and you did mean that – Meares was running every light and had his blue lights flashing. He looked on the verge of his 40’s, messy greying black hair and piercing blue eyes – though the true colour seemed fleeting as they changed with his emotions. And those were all over the place right now, that much was obvious. Although he appeared to be being the gentleman, sometimes he couldn’t help but look over at you – and his glances to your body weren’t very fleeting, either. In a normal situation you supposed you would be flattered, but right now you were having doubts you could trust him to be taking you where he said he was. ‘No… He’s a detective. He surely wouldn’t take advantage of that?’ or, maybe he would; how much did you know about Meares anyway? Maybe not a lot; but he was very easy to read on the surface so you didn’t think that figuring him out was going to be much of a challenge. Eventually you started seeing the Hospital signs and could breathe a real sigh of relief; okay… you could trust him. Upon pulling up you noticed several other police vehicles waiting around outside – all with their lights also flashing. You gasped and visibly shrank back in your seat; Meares turned to you. “Don’t worry, I called for backup, they’re good guys. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He opened his car door. “I’ll be very quick, okay, just wait here. We’ll get you checked up.” You reached for his hand before he had a chance to leave and held him there for a minute, Meares thought that you might be about to thank him, but that wasn’t what came out of your mouth: “Y/N.” “…What?” “…My name. You asked my name.” You found yourself taken aback by how gentle and sweet his smile was, “Y/N, you remembered… That’s good progress. Real good progress.” His large hand enveloped yours for a second, “Excellent! Now just, wait here, the hospital will help you out!” By the time Detective Meares exited the car and found his partner he was panicking again, “God damn, Meares-! What the hell is going on!” “You tell me! They send me to a crime scene where somebody is supposed to have been cut through, and I find a live woman there? What happened to all the investigators!? Anyway, that isn’t the point, she’s sitting in my car, I don’t know who she is – she’s barely remembered her first name – she doesn’t know how she got there and she’s half naked! And that’s only cuz she has my jacket! Who does that to a girl and leaves her in the middle of a crime scene!?” Reddick wiggled his eyebrows, “Naked ehhhhhh?!” Meares immediately hit him, “No! She’s a victim, quite possibly a witness once we get through to her!” Although his face burned, it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought the same thing. “…Well they knew someone would find her in a crime scene?” “Logical if it was accidental but then evidence has been moved, where’s the logic there, huh?” “Maybe forensics has the body.” “…Then why send me with the damn report like a body is there?” “Because they don’t like you, Meares?” “Fuck that. No wonder this department is a laughing stock…” He sighed angrily, “Look, if we have the body, great, but someone has tampered with that scene, and there’s either a secondary scene for her, or new forensic evidence at this one. Get down there with some people and figure it out.” His partner groaned, “Why me!?” “Because I’M staying with the victim for questioning, and hospital test results. I found her, her mind is clearly fragile, right now I am the familiar face-!” “Shouldn’t you be telling the department all this?” Meares glared at him, “Quit whining! Sure, I’ll do it. Can you please get down there – I really don’t want to leave her alone too long!” “Fine… fine, I’m going, but then get them to come straight out to me.” Reddick peered around his friend, “She’s a good-looking girl.” “Y-Yeah.” Meares also turned on the spot, you were looking at the hospital nervously, chewing your lip, “She is.” “And you’ve seen her naked.” There was a waiver of amusement in the other Detective’s voice, Meares turned back to him, snapping: “Will you get out of here!” ** Meares hung around in the hospital as long as he could before they forced him to leave to conduct their tests. Not before he took your hands and promised you he’d be back as soon as they let him. You did trust him, you knew that already – right now he seemed like the only person you could trust; and he’d brought you to a hospital and he trusted them to take care of you. You took a deep shaky breath as he let you go, but you knew everything was going to be okay. Once outside he called his superiors to tell them the news. That he’d found a secondary victim and that Reddick was back at the scene to retrieve any other evidence – luckily that was met positively and a forensics team was dispatched. Although Meares did mutter something about lack of communication under his breath. He had to voice his concern now: “There were no police or detectives on the scene – things have been moved, or must be missing. Someone got a second body in there between them packing up and me arriving. And conveniently no one was around to see anything!? And if I just missed them, then I’d say the killer was watching us, or the building. You have the body right-!?” “Yes. Meares, don’t you worry about that.” “Why send me with paper work?! This all seems fairly suspicious to me!” He was rambling and he knew that he probably shouldn’t have let that become more than just a thought, but Meares couldn’t help it. “You’re not shouting conspiracy, Meares?” “Are you giving me reason to?” There was silence for a moment, before a heavy sigh, “We’ll put you on the case team, see what you can get from our live victim.” “Thank you, Sir. They’re going to call me when the tests are finished.” With that they both hung up, but Meares couldn’t help but think that something was going on: after all, he wouldn’t exactly have called that answer straight. Much more like a bribe not to mention it. Someone isn’t saying something Meares… Watch your back… Was the only conclusion he could draw, dropping his mobile into his pocket he leant his head back against the waiting room wall and closed his eyes. He’d figure it out; that was his job. *** He was woken by a nurse, who led him into a back room. “Well, it’s all fairly conclusive Detective.” “I do like easy.” Meares grinned, but she didn’t find his joke attempt amusing, so he cleared his throat, “What happened to her?” “A fairly heavy dosage of sedative. Ketamine.” “She was drugged? That makes sense… isn’t that like a date rape drug?” “Correct. Although the rape kit has come back negative. And she didn’t ingest it, it was injected into her.” “Someone really knew what they were doing.” She nodded, “She’s not a regular user?” “No. No recent tracks or scars in her skin, she’s clean apart from this.” Meares nodded, mulling the information over, “You say fairly heavy… enough for the memory loss she’s experiencing? There’s also gotta be a reason why I didn’t realise she was alive, right? But Ketamine elevates heart rate?” “In small doses – but this wasn’t a small does, Detective. As for her memory, I wouldn’t say so but it could be a stress reaction, we don’t know what else happened to her tonight, or at any other point. It doesn’t have to be related to the drug.” “I guess I’ll only find out when her memory returns.” “Yes, but she’s doing very well, she’s certainly open to talking to you – in fact she asked for you.” “No doubt, do you think she’s ready for questions?” “Go easy on her, Detective.” “Oh, I promise.” Meares nodded, and he meant it, “Just one last thing. I found her at a crime scene, we had a body that had been almost completely lacerated. When I turn up on the scene her body is in the same place. Could… could it have killed her?” “Any sedative in a high amount could yes, but not the amount in her. Perhaps it is only to sedate the victims until the killer is ready to…” the nurse paused, not willing to spout conjecture, “I will say this, at least, she’s very, very lucky you found her Detective. Less she become just like your body.” “On that, I’m sure we can all agree.” When Meares reappeared in the room that you’d been set up in, your heart couldn’t help but give a flutter of excitement – he surely was a very attractive man, and kind too, although you weren’t sure if you could call him your knight in shining armour. A knight in one-hell-of-a-suit, maybe. Though you noticed his shirt was untucked and his tie a little more slacked than it had been previously. You were dressed in a hospital gown now, but you were still clutching his jacket. His scent was unfamiliar to you, but it was one you liked. Meares sat next to you, once again taking your hand in his; you thought your pulse might run wild and suddenly felt light headed – but you controlled it. “How are you feeling?” “Alright, considering what happened… And thanks to you, god knows what would have happened if-” He stilled you, “Hey, you don’t need to think about that. Sounds like you were on one hell of a trip!” the grin indicated he had just cracked a joke, although your laugh was more embarrassed than anything else, “I… suppose.” “I’m sorry-” His eyes left yours, “I have… never been too good with my comedic timing. I wanted to ask though, Y/N, if you’d be up for answering some questions of mine?” You weren’t sure how much help you’d be, but you certainly wanted to help him. “Of course, Meares, anything.” Anything. His heart almost skipped at that, heat rushing back to places it had no business being. Anything was a big word, and he could think of plenty of things he wanted that were certainly not appropriate to bring up right now! He took a slow breath, c’mon. Be professional! For once! “Well, hey, we have your name now at least. And I have a little data on you from the hospital – with your consent to use it, of course. So, I know your address, we can get you back home, maybe that’ll help too.” Yes, he had your name, and you certainly liked the way he said it. “Oh, of course, use whatever will help your case.” Meares nodded gently, “Well, let’s start simple, do you remember what you were wearing?” “Uhm. Yes.” Although you chewed your lip, blushing – and he caught the red. “It’s okay, it stays in this room.” “Just a short black dress, off shoulder, low cut. Maybe even very low cut. Small split up the side… I remember… I remember thinking that I had to wear my sexiest dress. That was very important.” He raised an eyebrow, “Hot date?” “I-I don’t think so.” Although maybe you’d count this… interview… “Shoes?” “Good heels, yes. But also black, nothing fancy. Uhm, some… obscure brand that you only find in stores like T.K.Maxx…” “So we’re looking for a dress and heels. That’s good, you’re doing great.” He squeezed your hand, “Anything else?” You shook your head, “No, I… I wasn’t wearing-” “Oh. Oh, no, that’s- That’s okay… Dress, heels. We’re hoping your items are at a secondary crime scene. So, any detail is good. Do you remember anything, about where you were?” “…Some crowded part of town. I know, that doesn’t help any but…” “Well, do you have any idea what time? We have plenty of ways of figuring out where – sounds like you’re heading for a night out.” “Yeah, uh, 9:30, maybe closer to 10?” You scrunched your face, “That’s habitual. I don’t think I was meeting someone…” “Well, there’s security footage in the busy parts of town as you can imagine, so, I’ll get a team working on that.” “Thank you.” You took his other hand, and instinct laced your fingers with his, “Meares, I… I don’t know what I would have done if-” “I said don’t think on it. You’re safe. Keep moving forward, okay? Well, okay, maybe any information you do remember would still be good!” You giggled, then gathered his jacket and held it out for him, “And for this, especially.” “Oh!” He looked a little bashful for a second, “It’s not anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.” “But it was you.” There was another silence of understanding as you looked into each other’s eyes; his really did change just like weather. “No…” His tone was quiet, and he pushed it back at you, “Keep it. It looks good on ya.” “Y-You think?” “Mhm.” That small smirk was playful, and made more than just your stomach flutter. Oh… “Well, I guess I should thank you once more, detective.” “Don’t mention it… Just keep talking, maybe that’ll trigger something.” He had the right idea, but for the investigation it proved rather fruitless. Eventually he stopped you, just because you were getting so worked up about it not being useful. But he did learn a little bit about your life, even the most random of details helped Meares build up a picture of you, and that could really help him figure out the ‘why you’. It wasn’t necessarily the same person that had done this to you as had killed the first victim, but if it was there could be a connection somewhere. Perhaps a crime of opportunity, but that was down to Meares and his detective skills to figure out. Some details that you could remember were patchier than others, and as you struggled with the want to give him more information you became less forthcoming with anything you thought was unusable. Meares had taken notes and finally pocketed his notebook. “Y/N, I promise you, everything you’ve told me is important. It helps us build a profile of the person we need to catch too. Maybe there’ll be similarities between you and our victim. Trust me, in an investigation like this no detail is useless or too insignificant. Everything counts. And you’re brave for going through this with me.” He stood, leaning forward he kissed your forehead and you gasped, making him think that once again he’d screwed up professionally. Though Meares was hardly sure he was thinking professionally at the moment; you were a nice girl. Someone he’d actually want to hang out with… that wasn’t just your body talking to him, although that was a somewhat delightful image still burned into his head. He would do anything to bring the person who had done this to justice, he vowed that to himself. “Stay in the hospital tonight, just make sure you’re okay and I’ll come back in the morning, alright?” You nodded, “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Meares.” Today, by the looks of his watch, but it was still dark. Not tomorrow until you’ve been to bed-! was a rule he liked living by. “Goodnight, Y/N. Try to get some rest.” You smiled, watching him leave, and wishing he didn’t have to go: “Goodnight Detective, you too.” *** Meares did turn up at the hospital the next day for you, and seen as they were good with discharging you, he offered to drive you home. At first you thought that would be fine but, under Meares’ gaze in his car, this time your heart kept running away with your thoughts. He really was gorgeous, and now you were seeing him in natural lighting those blue eyes were even more stunning. Even when you stole glances at him and traced that side profile… Should you be thinking this way about him? Meares was supposed to be investigating what had happened to you, after all. You doubted he’d be able to have a relationship with you; not when the investigation was open. He’d noticed these shy little glances of yours and could barely hold that smirk back, you must have been checking him out. Meares was fine with that of course – and this morning you’d walked out of hospital with his jacket on, and he wasn’t reserved about admiring you in it, especially now sitting in his car again. He knew your address but he was certainly taking the scenic route, Meares’ drive was leisurely at most. Once he did pull up at your home, you were both clearly disappointed. You hesitated, staring up at your front door. Thinking he should probably be being the gentleman right now, Meares rounded the vehicle to open the car door for you – but you just kept staring forward. “I don’t want to go.” Your voice was timid, but he still caught it. “What? Why? You’re home.” “I don’t feel safe here. Not alone.” You shook your head, seemingly shrinking back into your seat, “I can get people posted, or watching the house, if you’re not comfortable.” You shook your head again, “What if whoever did this is watching the house-!? What if they’re waiting for me to be alone, Detective?!” Meares opened his mouth to try to calm you down, but this time his joke faltered. He couldn’t forgive himself if something happened before he arranged for someone to watch out for you. “Y/N… I don’t know what else I can really do with you.” Your big eyes looked up to his, pleading, “Can’t I stay with you? For a little? Until I feel safe again.” He almost did a double take, and hoped he looked level and not like he was about to punch the air – a little like what was happening in his head – “…I don’t know if my supe’s are gonna like that. But I can sure ask. They might pull me off the case to do it. But your safety should be paramount, and you’re a key witness. It’s just-” You knew exactly what he was getting at but tilted your head, “Just what, detective?” Meares for once opted not to run his mouth, and swallowed thickly eyes flicking down your body again – he hoped inconspicuously – “…It’s nothing. Don’t worry. I’ll call them. I have a spare room, don’t you want to collect some things first… though?” So, Meares found himself dropping you at his house. Although he didn’t see how this was helpful for you, considering he still had to leave you alone and work on the case at the precinct. He guessed no one was going to think of finding you here. And, obviously, he was secretly elated… Even though Meares guessed he was about to get heavily reprimanded for this. And he was laid into quite hard, despite his – fairly calm – explanation as to why. Oh yes, of course he wanted to raise his voice, yell about it to be heard – but he didn’t think that would help him in keeping you at his. Upon offering to hand the case to someone else in exchange for making sure you were truly safe, his superior immediately scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve done the hard work.” “I don’t want to compromise anything!” “You should have thought about that before you agreed to let her stay.” “So pull me off, like I said. You have my write up… She’s scared, she doesn’t remember things, I found her… I just think giving her some familiarity and comfort right now is a good idea.” “Familiarity? In a house she’s never seen before?” “You… know what I mean.” “Just, be sensible, Meares.” “Yes Sir.” “You do know how to do that, don’t you?” Meares made the mistake of laughing, and it wasn’t met well, before he turned serious: “Y-Yes. Of course.” The case itself brought about good progress very quickly, with all your files back from the hospital and his own notes – coupled with what they knew about the victim, and witness interviews begun, the team were beginning to shape a picture of events. Fingerprints and DNA helped narrow the list of people who would have been around the warehouse recently, and soon interviewing witnesses became interviewing suspects. Your dress and shoes had been found well within a mile radius from the warehouse, and whilst sweeping the areas around, needles – one containing Ketamine – were also recovered with the DNA of both you and the victim. General consensus was the killer had tampered with the crime scene. That raised questions of its own; why, and how had they been able to? Meares believed that’d lead to some internal investigation – and he was still mindful to be cautious around others in the department - but right now catching this person was paramount. *** Your relationship continued to grow. Although Meares was very careful with what he told you. You understood why, this was his job on the line after all. But of course he kept you updated on your own case; he was determined to catch the person who did this. It was good to see how joyous he became the more information he gathered, and how Meares would always announce ‘we’re close!’ if you asked for an update. You weren’t sure exactly how true that was, considering he’d been saying that for weeks, but you couldn’t help but be happy that he was happy. Detective Meares made you feel safe, safer than you had been for a long time. And as you started to remember little pieces that would help him, Meares got excited to grab his little recorder to make sure he had everything right. You continued to get closer, and you were sure by now you’d outstayed your welcome at his place and you should be heading back home – but neither of you raised the subject of you leaving, and he never asked if you were safe enough to go home, even though it was obvious by your attitude and body language that you were. It started slow – to build to something more than the victim and the detective who had saved your life (probably), you were sitting on the couch together watching TV. Not even a movie, just news reports, but you leaned into him, head on his shoulder. For a moment Meares tensed – not in an uncomfortable, ‘I don’t want this’ way, but in a ‘is this really happening?!’ way. Meares didn’t dare breathe for a minute, and yet as if to prove how much you meant it, you cuddled into him a little more, soaking up his bodily warmth. Meares’ smirk was a little too smug, but you were smiling too, and your cheeks began to hurt as his arm snaked around your shoulders and he pulled you a little closer. Meares knew he probably shouldn’t be doing this. But, fuck it, when had he ever really listened to rules and procedure? You were beautiful, no, you were gorgeous. Wasn’t it the first thing he’d noticed about you anyway? He pulled your body into his, hand settling on your waist; and you didn’t complain. Maybe Meares was right, maybe you wanted him as bad too. Was that a good thing? Well, he knew he would certainly choose to believe it was.

 Pretty soon that dynamic changed, and cuddling on the couch turned into making out on the couch. It didn’t take much persuasion; he’d been staring at you like that ever since he’d first met you and you were certainly hot on him too. As you both leaned closer Meares tilted his head, smirking “Whatcha thinking about Angel Face?” And how you almost returned his smirk as you looked deep into those ever-changing blue eyes, “Kissing you.” Angel Face - That was his nick-name for you, even if he wouldn’t admit how he came to that conclusion, and it just stuck. You soon found out that if you ran your fingers through his hair Meares would groan into the kiss - and it was no wonder that he always liked his hair being messed up. Clearly it was even better for him when you did it. Professionalism be damned, the detective was not about to resist you. And he’d offered to be off the case, fair and square, he didn’t see how they could blame him now. Especially when you looked like that.

Being with him was just so easy; old enough to know better, young enough to still be playful - but he could bounce back from any fuck ups, a little headstrong and rough around the edges… No one was ever perfect though. A good man, even if he spent his time making inappropriate comments or jokes - just as often in content as in his timing. But all of that just made you love him more, that attractive face of his (not to mention his voice) was the best bonus. It only made you wonder what was under his clothes… after all, he already knew what was under yours. And you were fairly certain that was an image burned into his head.

This meant Meares had a particular way of staring at you; you wouldn’t call it predatory, but it had that kind of effect on you. Your pulse ran and your eyes widened and sometimes you struggled to breathe against the weight of his stare; drawing his eyes slowly up and down your body, tilting himself to get better views of you. The way his lips parted and he ran his fingertips over them, or sometimes his tongue before he smirked. Of course he wondered when he’d get to see you naked again. You weren’t sure if that made you more or less scared of it being an eventuality. Sometimes you shied away from him completely. Sometimes you had the confidence but found yourself unable to speak it.

Today was not either of those. Today the stars aligned all from a seemingly innocent sentence. If Meares hadn’t wondered aloud if you were ready to return back to your own house then you probably wouldn’t have had the opportunity to take his hand and turn him back to you. You found the words to be honest: “I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone. Or without you. Again.” For the first time Meares saw something in you that he hadn’t before. Whilst the sentence had been said in all innocence there was a wildness in your eyes. An untameable force that somehow you were holding back. You very nearly stole his breath with that look alone. He kissed you hard and fast; slipping out of his own jacket before reaching out to pull your hips to his.

When he broke away from you, the look on your face was of slight wonder. Yet that wildness was still there - and the trembling he felt under his fingertips was not because you were nervous and scared. It was because of what you were holding back: this didn’t match the personality that you’d been showing off to him; shy and sweet and delicate. Meares wondered which was real, this or the girl he thought you were just pretending to be. Cupping your face in his large hands his next kiss was delicate, lips barely touching yours. “Don’t hold back now Angel Face.”

He found himself yanked back to you almost angrily by his tie, the look in your eyes not hiding now. Oh, you didn’t intend to.

 ***

 He was falling for you. And hard. Meares didn’t want to call it love yet, but he thought it could be. He wasn’t sure he was simply in lust with you - but he’d keep that option on the table. You were always lingering in the back of his mind, and now he knew what your sex was like you weren’t just an image of a naked body, but a whole experience. And every so often you’d use this to your advantage, and send him pictures that made him smirk and text eagerly back: ‘Bad girls get put in handcuffs, you know?’

 Of course, all this had to happen right around the time of the major case break through. And not a breakthrough Meares particularly wanted. One day he was called down to the forensics room, and was faced with a mix of items of both yours and the first victims. They had been through everything again, and again, and again and nothing. Meares hoped that today was the day they’d finally find something that would help. “Detective, we will have to simply call it.” “We can’t give up on them! The killer is still out there!” “There’s nothing more we can do. Nothing - if we go on evidence alone now, logically there’s conclusions that must be drawn.” Meares sighed and placed his hands flat on the table, stretching his body back behind him; “Give it to me again.” “There’s NO other DNA in that warehouse, on her clothes, nothing.” “No other person?” “None.” “No evidence that anyone else was involved?” Meares wanted there to be another angle, something beyond what he felt – with dread – that this was all building to. “No. And we have tested and retested everything.” As you well know, this seemed to say. “…What about our first body?” “Well, here’s the interesting thing.” “What?” And why hadn’t this ‘interesting thing’ been raised!? Meares knew he sounded more annoyed than he did elated at this potential breakthrough. “Same sedative.” “So what, they were coming back for her?” That didn’t make things any better. He certainly was glad he’d found you if that was the conclusion. There was awkward hesitation, before the technician cleared his throat: “…Prints on the syringe are hers.” Meares raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding: “They… forced her to do it to… herself?” “Meares…” The look was pointed, “You know what the evidence is saying.”

Meares set his tablet up on the kitchen side, staring at it hard, before taking a stylus and trying to connect all the dots virtually. He’d been trying to do this in the office all day - and he almost had it but there were blanks that he was drawing that he still didn’t understand. They could easily have forced you into it, he doubted they’d forced you to inject someone else. But he suspected they could have had you self-inject. That’s what Meares wanted, but that wasn’t what the evidence was saying. That was never what the evidence was saying.

He had to be sure, and he’d found the security tapes of the warehouse opposite: terrible quality of course, and grainy. They’d already been dismissed by the team as being insufficient to gather anything from. But if you looked hard enough, if you knew what you were looking for, you’d find it. And he unfortunately did. This figure that he was seeing was you. It had to be you - it wasn’t like he could see your face, but he was living with you. He knew your body, he knew the way walked, the attitude you put into steps. This wasn’t that shy act either, this was careful and calculating. The person he knew, sure, but there was a horrendous chill that ran up his spine. Like he was watching some kind of horror movie. No one else went in or out of the warehouse after you. Then you came back out - he fast forwarded all the police investigators turning up - but you returned later… then nothing, until he showed up. And Meares knew the rest.

 “Oh. SHIT.” His head bent forward and he rested it on the cold side. It’s you. It had to be you. Meares couldn’t help but admit his heart was a little broken, that he felt a little nervous and sick. Where were you? Were you here? A killer in his house; someone he trusted, he had feelings for, that he’d told about his life. Was everything you’d told him about yourself a lie? You didn’t remember anything, because there was nothing to remember. You’d killed someone, drugged yourself to make yourself look like a victim… watched the warehouse while the police did their work… but why? The why had him so confused. And it was a question he couldn’t answer. Meares wouldn’t put you in handcuffs until he had the whole story.

 But he heard the sound behind him all too late, and as he straightened to react you grabbed him. Meares didn’t really have time to struggle, you’d been watching him - and bless his heart he was struggling. With the truth - but he didn’t know the whole truth just yet. You placed your hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out and sunk that needle in; no hesitation in injecting the heavy sedative into his veins. “Figured it out yet… Detective?”

 ***

 Meares took a little longer to come around from the sedative than you’d have liked. No doubt it was the same one that you had used on yourself and your victim. Damn did he feel like an idiot. And drowsy. And have one hell of a pounding headache.

Didn’t take very many of his detective skills to figure out he was tied to a chair, hands bound too. He thought back to that first description; bruising and ligature marks. Looking around it seemed a little like he’d been put back in another warehouse. Though this one looked a little cleaner than the one he’d been investigating. Eventually his eyes fell on the figure approaching him; and Meares glared.

“You?!? It was you all along?!?” He sounded much more hurt than he wanted to, “Why would you do that?!?” You stopped a few feet from him, hands in your pockets, head tipped as you surveyed his body. It was slightly gratuitous, but he could hardly complain about it after what he’d been doing to yours. Meares supposed that he should be thankful he wasn’t naked. Then again...

You took a breath, and once again answered too honestly. “For you.” Meares squinted, disbelieving: “What the fuck!?” That made no sense. “Are you kidding!?” You shook your head, “Detective Meares I’ve been watching you for a very, very long time. And is it any wonder, just look at you.” You paused, biting your lip seductively. He hated to admit it was almost working, “...What better way to finally meet you? And the fact that you were the first man on the scene for me. Couldn’t have worked out better.” He swallowed, backing up as far as the chair and restraints would allow: “There’s better ways to get my attention.” “Oh, but it did... didn’t it. Get your attention.” You took a step back, but your eyes didn’t leave his, “Or I did.”

Meares face was illuminated fairly well by the dim lighting, and his cheeks flushed. Yes - but he’d only admit that in his head right now. Of course you’d caught his attention. Look at you. You were gorgeous.  ‘She’s a fucking killer though, Meares, c’mon!’ Although he wasn’t really listening to that reasoning anymore as his eyes flicked up and down your body once more. He found himself struggling against the restraints. You smirked, “I wouldn’t do that, they’re your handcuffs.” Meares did the unexpected and smirked back, with a raised eyebrow, “Little kinky?” You gave him a look of amusement, but disappeared for a moment into the gloom. That made him panic a little and strain against the cuffs and binds again. No luck.

When you returned you placed a stool in front of his chair and sat opposite him, twisting the keys to his cuffs around your finger. “You want out?” Meares stared at the keys for a long while, before looking back to your face, then the keys, and then your face once more. When that gorgeous blue returned to the keys, Meares took a deep breath; he wouldn’t lie, he was in two minds here. ‘What’s she gonna do if I say yes, actually this is weirdly turning me on. If it weren’t for the context I’d actually quite like her to be in charge if we’re gonna fuck?...’ His eyes returned slowly to your face but you recognised that swallow; you knew exactly where Meares’ mind was at and what you were doing to him. That man was craving you, even now. “What are you gonna do to me? You gonna kill me now?” “Nothing you won’t like.”

A shiver of excitement ran his spine and he cursed himself, the widening of your smirk meant you’d seen it, and the way his pupils dilated. “I want answers.” “I don’t think you do. You want means and motive. I saw opportunity and your jurisdiction.” “You drugged yourself, stripped naked and… no maybe that was for me.” You enjoyed the way that blush rose on his face again. “Yes, Although I wasn’t really meant to inject quite so much sedative. I’m sure your labs will figure I have enough immunity to have got back to the crime scene after stripping off before it kicked in. And yes, of course for you.” You tilted your head, arms folded for a second, “I didn’t meant to go that hard; and it did affect my memory momentarily.” “You’ve… also obstructed the course of justice.” “There was no attack for me to remember.” “And the guy you… lacerated?” You shrugged, “Just some guy.” “...You- he was a random vic?” “Not entirely, but I’m sure you know by now he won’t be missed.” “You can’t just… do things like that.” Meares’ look was hard, his tone disgusted. “No, but I did.” “You’re psycho-!” “Little emotional there, detective.” He scoffed, “You expect me not to be?!” His eyes narrowed and for a moment hurt genuinely flickered across his face: “I can’t believe I fell for you, can’t believe I slept with you. Holy shit what have I got myself into-!?” “I just told you…” Your voice softened, and you leant forward, hands on his knees you pushed his legs apart. That shade of red on his face got deeper as his eyes widened: “So what, we’re gonna hate fuck now?” Your head tipped and you said it almost sweetly, “Not exactly.”

For a moment you left your stool and sat between his feet, arms up over his left thigh you leant against leg, eyes almost pure and innocent. “Oh. FUCK!” He had to voice something in realisation, after all. “Baby…” You ran your fingers up his inner thigh and loved the way he tensed under you, “Just let me take care of you.” “Y-Y/N…” His breathing hitched, should he want this? Shouldn’t he watch this? This was certainly going to fuck up his case. If it wasn’t already fucked. “You’re so god damn sexy when you’re frustrated…” Your voice purred and his body threatened to shudder once more. Meares felt himself getting hot, and that feeling was very quickly travelling down his body. “Geez, will ya just do it?!” His voice a mixture of anguish and yearning. There was underlying lust there too you were certain to capitalise on. You were certain you’d probably let him go; you didn’t want to have to kill him… What he would do to you, you weren’t sure. But you knew the implications of his relationship with you to the case. Well, he had warned them.

 You smiled gently, eager to please, pulling the stool forward with your foot you sat back on it, leaning up to kiss him. “Do you want out of the cuffs?” He thought about his hands in your hair, about the control that would give him. “Mhm…” His voice wavered with what he was trying to hold back, you reached behind him and unlatched them, “Don’t worry, Detective, I trust you…” “I don’t know if I trust you,” then he smirked, “Angel Face.” You tsked him, giving him one last slow kiss, before your hands travelled to his belt, “I probably should have told you not to call me Angel… but that might have given it all away…” “Oh yeah…” Meares groaned at the sound of his zip coming undone and you sank back onto the stool properly. “That woulda done it…” You leant back on his knees, smile playful, “Just relax, Meares. Enjoy yourself.” “I’m not sure I’m gonna call it that right now.” You ran your tongue across your lips to wet them, “We’ll see, Detective… I’m sure you’ll find a way to appreciate this.” “Well…” He breathed deep again as you forced his legs a little wider, bringing his hands around, just itching to tangle in your hair, “Won’t say I won’t love the view…”

---

Cheers guys, I owe ya!  🤣

I’ve always had the curiosity of what would happen if Bucky was to be placed in a predicament where he took a love potion and ended up falling for the reader but as time went on he end up getting more intense and obsessed

Hey, there! Thanks for the great prompt, I had a lot of fun writing it! :D I think I went itno a bit different direction but I hope you’ll still like it! ♥

Send me a request or choose from my Prompt List!

——————————————————

Release date: 24/01/20

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Y/N: The obnoxious agent Brianna Markus almost fulfilled her plan forcing Bucky to drink a love potion and fall for her forever when his eyes happened to land on you.

Words count: 4.6K

A/N: Okay, I didn’t mean to write it this long but I just got carrried away! :D Also, this is an AU where witchcraft exists. Agents Brianna Markus and Lilliy Pennington are made up for this story. They do not resemble any actual characters.

Warnings: Mention of desire to murder somebody

Requests | Masterlist

Taglist: @all-things-marvel-related ; @steeeeverogers ; @chipilerendi ; @starkershomelife ; @merlin-288 ; @nutellakirb ;

I’m not a native English speaker, so there might be spelling or grammatical mistakes.

This fic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

——————————————————

“You have to drink it, Bucky.”Agent Brianna Markus said with a smug smile.

Bucky looked down at the bloodred liquid in the little glass bottle. Inside his head he cursed the moment inwhich he accepted the bet.

Agent Brianna Markus was anobnoxious person, too over-confident and insolent as hell. She believed to besuperior over everyone who wasn’t a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. and those who were butwith a lower rank than hers. The type of people Bucky despised. He alwaysavoided her at the base and hated when they were assigned on common missions.But what he really hated was the fact that she took any possible chance toflirt with him. And she did that completely openly and sometimes too direct asto make him or the people around them uncomfortable. Bucky always pushed heraway but she was insistent. And she had found her way to him fulfilling herlittle plan.

You were observing from aclose distance alongside other agents. Just an hour ago Brianna had fooled Buckyinto a ridiculous bet which he was certain she would lose. And then she wouldhave stopped talking to him forever except on missions or only on work-relatedtopics. That was, of course, if Brianna lost. If Bucky lost, however, he was totake a love potion sitting across her, so when he opened his eyes he would seeher and fall for her forever.

Any person would laugh atthis. ‘Love potions? Give me a break! There’s no such thing’. But what wasknown only to S.H.I.E.L.D. was the fact that witches lived low-key among usjust like there were gods from outer space. Bucky was more than certain thatthe love potion was genuine and that he would be trapped into an illusion forthe rest of his life being in love with the worst person he’d ever met. On anyoccasion he would just toss it back at her and loudly state that he would nevertake it. But now? Oh, how smart she turned out to be. There were at least 20agents who observed everything. The setting of the bet, what the bet was aboutand the fact that Bucky lost. And he was so certain he’d win that he got out ofhis skin and acted all over-confident and obnoxious himself. There was no wayout of it. There was no going back. There weren’t any written rules about betsbut everyone knew the unwritten ones. Including everyone in that room at themoment.

“Come on, Bucky! A bet is abet!” Brianna kept on pressing him.

“Yeah, Barnes! You have to!”Some other agent said.

“You lost, Barnes! Drink it!”Another one added.

The ‘crowd’ went crazy as theystarted cheering for Bucky to drink the love potion. The only one quiet wasyou. You who was secretly in love with Bucky but who was too shy and unconfidentto approach him in any way. You who was the complete opposite of Brianna. And nowshe seemed to be the one to win the competition even though she cheated. Youwanted to stand up and yell against everybody else until they left Bucky alone.You even pictured yourself kicking Brianna’s ass, then rescuing Bucky from thispredicament. But your quiet and shy nature didn’t allow you to even move. Youcould only hopelessly observe the happening.

Bucky’s hand started shaking. Aroundhim there was a beehive of voices pressuring him to drink the love potion. Hecouldn’t take it anymore. He closed his eyes and drank the magical liquid.

Everyone gasped and the entireestablishment went completely silent. Brianna’s face lit up in expectation ofBucky to be finally hers. But he just kept his eyes closed. He felt some tinglysensation inside of him and could still taste the sweet liquid in his mouth.‘It must be working already’, Bucky thought to himself too terrified to openhis eyes.

“What is he doing?” Somebody whisperedto the person next to them.

“Open your eyes, lover boy!”Somebody from the back yelled.

But Brianna sat therepatiently. She knew he would eventually open his eyes.

“What is this?” Suddenly,everyone heard the voice of Nick Fury himself as his authoritative figureappeared at the balcony just above them.

Everybody jumped startled.Including Bucky who opened his eyes. But they didn’t land on Brianna. No. They happenedto land on you.

“May I ask why is everyonesitting around like this chatting and nobody is actually doing their work?”Fury asked unamused. “What if there is a sudden alien attack? Hmm? You’llinvite them for a cup of coffee hoping they’re not hostile?”

Nobody even dared to move amuscle. Everybody were just staring at him terrified. Even the bold Brianna whowas too distracted to see where Bucky’s eyes were.

“Everyone back to work andknow that if I see this one more time you’re all out of the intelligence!” Furystated firmly and continued on his way.

You sighed in relief andrestored your breathing. Everyone just looked at each other saying things like‘that was close’ or ‘man, that was scary’. Only a few seconds later did youlook back at Bucky remembering what you were all doing there. And with quitethe shock you noticed the way he was looking at you.

“Bucky?” You heard Brianna’s heinousvoice.

She snapped in front of hiseyes but they wouldn’t move away. She followed them and with a terror noticed hiseyes were looking at you.

“NO!” Brianna screeched.

“Ohhhhh” Some people startedlaughing at the twist of the events.

“Wait, is it Y/N?” Someoneasked.

���What happened?” Somebody wastotally confused.

“Bucky and Y/N sitting on atree K-I-S-S-I-N-G” Somebody felt the need to sing.

You couldn’t have been moreembarrassed. You even hated having to submit your reports which seemed like toomuch public exposure, let alone this. You wanted to sink into the ground andstay there forever.

A door opened on the upperfloor. Everybody looked up at the balcony.

“Is it Fury again?” Someoneasked terrified and all agents ran towards their working stations likecockroaches when the light is turned on in the kitchen.

Only you, Bucky and Briannaremained where you were.

“You will pay for this!”Brianna shouted.

“How do I have anything to dowith this?” You tried to protect yourself.

“Oh, you think I haven’t noticed?”She got up and walked towards you. “The way you look at him. With yoursparkling eyes. You want him, too.” Brianna was standing right above you. “Andyou dare to tell me you have nothing to do with this? You barely waited foryour little chance to ruin my plan and get Bucky to be yours!” She yelled herlast words which made you jump startled. “I swear to god, Y/N. You will pay forthis!” After which Brianna retired to her office.

You were sitting therebreathing heavily. Just a few minutes but they turned your world upside down.What was to happen now?

“Y/N, you’re so beautiful.”You heard Bucky’s voice from a distance.

You slowly looked at him andnoticed the stupid expression on his face. It would appear he was madly in lovewith you. And how couldn’t he be? He took a freaking love potion and you werethe one he first saw.

“Bucky…” You started softlyand walked towards him. “You’re not really in love with me. It’s magic.”

“Magic is your smile for itmakes me melt every time I see it.” Bucky replied as he got up towards you.

Those words took your breathaway. Nobody has ever spoken in such a manner to you beforehand.

“Your eyes are like twostars.” Bucky continued his love poetry. “Shining beautifully and bright makingyou want to gaze at them for all of eternity.”

You found it really hard tohold yourself. After all, you were in love with him. And now suddenly – he wasin love with you, too. It all sounded tempting but your common sense was stillwinning.

“Listen, Bucky.” You said.“I’ll find a way to fix this. I’ll ask Brianna who did she take the love potionfrom and try to get an anti-dot or something. You’ll be fine.”

“I am fine when I am aroundyou.” Bucky was so close to you that you felt really uncomfortable.

He was leaning down as to kissyou but you stepped away. You were scared that if he did you might fall for himeven more and then your common sense would be swept under the rug like it neverexisted.

“Y/N, where are you going?”Bucky followed you.

“Back to work. What you shoulddo as well.” You said accelerating your pace.

But Bucky was following you inseparably.You were passing by some agents who looked at you two weirdly.

You finally got to yourworking station which you shared with agent Lilly Pennington. She wasn’tpresent earlier, so she had no idea of your misfortune.

You basically ran inside andclosed the door after you. Lilly looked at you startled.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Sheasked you concerned.

Before you managed to sayanything Bucky appeared at the small square window of the door and placed hisface and hands on it. He had that stupid expression over his face again.

“What is going on?” Lillyasked confused. “Y/N? Why is agent Barnes looking at you like that?”

“Oh, Lilly. If you knew.”

“Well, I can know if you tellme.”

“I love you, Y/N!” Abruptly,Bucky shouted from across the door.

“What?” Lilly screamed barelyholding her laughter.

“Oh my god!” You mumbled sittingon your chair. “What am I going to do?”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait…”Lilly said. “Start from the beginning. What is happening?”

You briskly explained theongoing situation to your partner. And after she spent 10 minutes in genuinelaughter you noticed Bucky was still gazing lovingly at you through the windowof the door.

“What am I going to do,Lilly?” You asked without a hope.

“How about embrace it?” Sheasked back. “You are in love with him. And now he’s in love with you.” Shespoke smugly.

“Look at him!” You shoutedpointing out at his stupid blank expression. “He’s not himself. He cannotfunction. Why would I want him like that? He just follows me like a puppy.That’s not a meaningful relationship.” You placed your face in your hands.

Lilly got up and walked to thedoor. “Let’s see.” She said but before you managed to react in any way sheopened the door.

Bucky walked inside stillstaring at you the same way. You got up ready to kill your partner. Instead,you saw her standing in front of Bucky. He didn’t move his eyes at all.

“Hello, Barnes?” Lilly saidwaving and snapping in front of his face. There was no reaction.

“See? He’s a zombie!” Yousaid.

“But he’s your zombie.” Shereplied smugly. “Take him. What woman doesn’t want an idiot at her feet?”

“Lilly, this isn’t funny!” Youshouted.

“Then why am I laughing?” Shewas enjoying this way too much.

Suddenly, Bucky walked towardsyou. You stepped backwards startled but almost immediately your back hit awall. Bucky stopped in front of you. He leaned down towards your lips. Insteadof your lips, however, Bucky tasted the wall for you had moved away at the rightmoment.

“Bucky…” You said as you walked away. “We havea problem. This can’t work.” You turned around.

As you stopped you felt himright behind you. You made a step, he made a step, too. You made two steps, hefollowed you in exactly the same way.

“I need to talk to Brianna.”You said and flew out of your office.

At the end of the corridor, thestairs, two floors up, another corridor. Bucky followed you inseparably.

You stopped in front ofBrianna’s office and knocked.

“Come in.” You heard herunpleasant voice mixed with irritation. She hasn’t forgotten the mishap fromearlier.

You walked in followed byBucky. Brianna’s facial expression changed from ‘I had a bad day’ to ‘I’m goingto kill everybody in this building starting with you two’.

“Look, Brianna.” You said. “Iknow there’s tension between us and we don’t really like each other but we haveto fix this.” You said pointing at Bucky who was still staring at you.

On his turn, Bucky got down onone knee and held your hand. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

Brianna literally broke thepencil she was holding. The parts flew in the air and hit the two oppositewalls.

“We really need to fix this.”You were basically begging her.

“Please, Y/N, marry me!” Buckywas insistent in his trance. “Please, be mine!” He said after which he startedkissing your hand.

“That could have been me.”Brianna said through her teeth angrily.

“Y/N!” Bucky continuedmentioning your name as he now got down at your feet and started kissing them.

“Brianna, please.” You weredesperate. “I’ve never asked you for anything else.”

But she was just looking atyou enviously without saying a damn word. You looked at your feet. Bucky wasnow hugging your leg whispering “Y/N, marry me.”

You walked out of Brianna’soffice dragging your right leg which Bucky was still holding. Everyone lookedat you with confusion and surprise.

“Y/N, where are you going?”Bucky asked you sad.

“Oh, look, it’s the lovebirds!” An agent that was present earlier shouted.

“How’s the love life?” Someoneelse said.

“Look at Barnes! His mind isgone!” Somebody laughed.

“Gone at Y/N!” Another oneadded.

Everyone was laughing, eventhose that weren’t present earlier. You saw the girl’s bathroom and savedyourself there. Luckily for you, there was nobody inside.

“Get up, Bucky!” You decidedto be firm.

He obeyed. That stupidexpression was on his face again.

“I have work to do.” Youcontinued. “And you have work to do. Now we will go out from here and we’ll goin different directions. I’ll go back to my office, you’ll go to yours, right?”

“Your lips are so beautifulwhen they move.” Bucky said.

You sighed. “Bucky, this isn’treal! You’re not in love with me and you don’t want to marry me! You need torealize that!”

“I’ll rip my metal arm off ifyou want me to.” Bucky wasn’t making sense at all.

You were staring at him inpure shock. What were you going to do?

“Where is he?” You heard thedistant voice of Sam.

“Oh, thank god.” You said inrelief.

You walked out of the bathroomfollowed by Bucky. “Sam, over here!”

He looked at your directionwith his eyes and mouth wide opened. You walked to him with a hope.

“You need to help me!” Yousaid desperately.

“What have you done to Barnes?”Sam asked you angrily.

“Me?” You were offended. “Itwas Brianna!”

“But they say he’s under yourspell or something.”

“My spell?” You were losingit. “Brianna wanted to give him a love potion, so he’ll be hers but he ended upfalling for me.”

“You’re so beautiful whenyou’re angry, Y/N!” Suddenly, Bucky said still staring at you.

“Alright…” Sam was losing hispatience. “Come here, lover boy.” He said pulling Bucky aside.

“Wait, no… Y/N!” Bucky shoutedat you but Sam managed to hold him back.

You sighed in relief andwalked back to your office. You told Lilly what happened and tried to work butyou were still pretty shaken. You were released to go home earlier. You spentthe entire evening wondering what Sam did to Bucky but you knew it was theright thing. You hoped that by now he was all fixed and that tomorrow would beback to normal. As long as he didn’t remember anything of course.

You got to bed pretty earlytired from all of today’s emotions. You were just falling asleep when suddenlyyou heard the window in your living room breaking. You jumped out of bed as yougrabbed your work gun. You walked out of your bedroom ready to fire. Youweren’t prepared for what you were about to see in your living room.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted injoyance to see you.

“Freaking hell, Bucky!” Youshouted back.

He was carrying a big bouquet offlowers and a box of chocolates.

“Why did you leave me, Y/N?”He asked with a sad tone. “I love you, Y/N!”

Bucky walked to you and got onhis knees again. He gave you the flowers and chocolates. Then he pulled thebelt across his body and a small guitar appeared from behind his back. Yougasped. Bucky started serenading you with a love song.

“Oh my god…” You whispered asyou grabbed your phone.

You dialed Sam. “Listen tothis!” You said after he answered and placed your phone at Bucky, so Sam couldhear.

When Sam arrived Bucky wasfondling your face explaining how perfect it was. How every inch of it was justwhere it had to be and how every shape and curve was perfectly placed. Thatwas, of course, after he was finished with his little love serenade.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky!” Sammumbled as he grabbed him once again and pulled him from you.

Bucky started fighting andscreaming your name but two other agents appeared at the door and helped Sam.You knew things weren’t over yet. You took a deep breath and took care of thehole in your window until a craftsman could fix it.

In the morning you got to thebase as any other day. You were beaten. You couldn’t sleep at all. Sam wasalready waiting for you in your office.

“How bad?” You askedconcerned.

“Come and see for yourself”.Sam led you.

You got to a double room forinterrogations. Bucky was in the inner room with a mirror. You were on itsother side that was a window.

“Y/N, where are you?” Buckysaid dragging himself over the floor. “Why did you leave me, Y/N?” He wasnearly crying.

Your heart was breaking seeinghim like this. It was obviously torturing him.

“All night long.” Samclarified. “He’s been like this since we got him here.”

You looked at Sam with wateryeyes. “What are we going to do?”

“We are not going to doanything.” Suddenly, you heard Fury’s voice behind you.

You looked at him startled andbowed for some reason. “Director.”

Both Fury and Sam looked atyou weirdly but ignored it.

“Brianna was already sent to demandan anti-dot from that witch, so we can fix agent Barnes.”

You sighed in relief. Itshould all be over soon.

“Y/N, my love.” Buckycontinued. “Where are you, Y/N? I need you! I love you! Y/N, don’t break myheart!”

“Do you want to go out?” Samasked you noticing how those words were affecting you.

“I can’t torture him anymore.”You said and abruptly opened the door and walked to Bucky.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Samasked running after you but it was too late.

“Y/N?” Bucky asked with ahope. “Is that really you?” His eyes were all puffy. It seemed like he hadcried a lot.

“Yes, Bucky, it’s me.”

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled and walkedto you. He was once again at your feet.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Samasked you irritated.

“Y/N, I love you!” Buckycontinued. “I breathe only for you!”

“Agent Y/N, what do you thinkyou’re doing?” Fury wasn’t charmed, either.

“Let him have a little bit ofpeace until Brianna comes.” You replied.

Neither Sam, nor Fury approvedyour doings judging by their faces. But neither of them also knew that you wereactually in love with Bucky and seeing him like this was killing you on theinside. Even though it wasn’t real.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”Bucky uttered lying on the floor at your feet. “Please, Y/N, marry me! I can’tlive without you!”

You sat down on the floor andsmiled at him. “Yes, Bucky, I will marry you.”

You heard Sam and Fury’sreactions. You were happy you didn’t see their faces.

“Oh, Y/N!” Bucky was losinghis mind even more. “I’ll make you very happy! And I’ll make you lots of kids.Like, at least 20!”

Fury walked out and Samstepped away. Neither of them wanted to witness this.

Secretly, you wished this wasreal. You were so in love with Bucky that you were ready to give him the 20kids he was talking about. Maybe adopt some of them, though.

Bucky started blabbering aboutthe wedding and all kinds of things as you just sat there listening to him, sohe wasn’t torturing himself being away from you.

Shortly after, the salvationcame. Fury got back alongside Brianna and a young witch. She was carrying theanti-dot. For a moment you got really sad. A few minutes later you would benothing more than just a colleague to Bucky again. You knew you couldn’t ‘keephim’ but he was starting to grow on you. Him and his stupid behavior and hiswords of enchanting you.

“Oh, that’s pretty bad.” Saidthe witch observing Bucky from a distance. “That’s really bad. How much of thepotion did you give him?” He asked Brianna.

“Well, the whole one.” Shereplied unceremoniously.

“Girl, I told you he has totake just a small sip!” She almost yelled at her. “A small sip and he’ll be inlove with you but still his self. But this?” She pointed at Bucky. “I bed hedoesn’t even eat. This amount of love potion is deadly! Have you forgotten whatI told you?”

Everyone looked judgingly atBrianna. You looked at her with rage.

“You cannot give this muchlove potion to a person!” The witch continued. “They become too obsessed withtheir loved ones and refuse to do anything else, including eating and drinkingwater. The potion itself is harmless but the consequences of the dose arelethal!”

You were ready to pull outyour gun and split Brianna’s skull in two.

“Y/N, why are you so angry?”Suddenly, Bucky spoke. “I want you to only be happy! Don’t be angry!”

“Oh my god, give him theanti-dot!” The witch said handing you a small glass bottle of a dirty whiteliquid. “Don’t torture the man anymore!”

“All of it?” You asked withprecautions.

“Well, since he had drank theentire love potion, yes!”

You looked at Bucky. He wassmiling like an idiot. You two were still sitting on the floor.

“Bucky, I have something foryou.” You said lifting the glass bottle in front of his eyes.

“For me?” Bucky asked surprised.“Y/N, you shouldn’t have! I should give you presents!” He said as he got up andwalked away.

“Bucky, wait!” Everyone jumpedstartled after him.

“Where is it?” He startedsearching for something. “I swear to god, Y/N, it was right here!”

“It’s okay, Bucky.” You triedto comfort him. “Drink this and you’ll feel better.” You handed him the bottle.

Bucky observed it for a whilebut eventually took it in his hands.

“Come on, drink it.” You said.“For me. If you really love me!”

“Of course, I love you, Y/N!”

“Then drink it. To thebottom.”

Without hesitation Bucky drankthe whole liquid. You saw the expression of disgust over his face. Then itchanged to pain and uneasiness. Bucky sat on the floor seemingly sick. You alljust observed.

“Argh” Bucky said rubbing hisface. “What the hell just happened?” He finally revealed his face after a fewmoments and looked around. “What am I doing here?”

“Bucky, do you love Y/N?” Samwas brusquely direct.

Your heart skipped a bit.

“What?” Bucky asked totallyconfused.

Everyone sighed in relief. Atwas all over.

“Thank you.” Fury said at theyoung witch. “You are free to go now. Agent Markus.” He looked at Brianna. “Inmy office!”

Just a few moments later theatrocious Brianna was released of her duties in S.H.I.E.L.D. Everyone was sohappy about it that you all even threw your little party.

“Will somebody please explainto me what happened?” Bucky asked confused and disoriented.

“What do you remember?” Samasked him.

“Brianna had me… well, shewanted me to… I drank it. I drank the love potion. I remember that.” Then puredisgust was written all over his face. “Was I in love with her?”

“No.” Sam replied. “Thecircumstances were such that you fell for Y/N.”

Bucky looked at you but youlooked away. You really needed fresh air, so you just walked outside withoutsaying a word.

While you were sitting outsideand thinking over the past 24 hours Bucky came to you and sat down. He seemedto be better.

“Do you remember anything?”You asked him.

“Vaguely.” Bucky replied.“Just some flashes in a way. I really felt the love, though. I really felt likethere was nobody else but you.”

“Well, that was the potion.”You laughed.

“Was it?” Bucky slipped.

You looked at him confused.

“Anyway…” He seemeduncomfortable. “I wanted to ask – did I really break your window?”

You chuckled. “You did, Bucky.You broke my window to serenade me.”

You two started laughing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll pay forit.”

“Don’t worry, Bucky. It’sokay. It’s important that you are back to your old self that is not in lovewith me.” You said in an even tone with a pinch of disappointment.

“That is not quite true.”Unexpectedly, Bucky said.

You looked at him surprisedand confused. Was this some residual effect from the love potion?

“Y/N, I am in love with you.”Bucky said gazing into your eyes. “I always have been. I just never… had thebravery to say it out loud.”

You were getting paranoidready to scream for the witch again.

“That’s not the love potionspeaking. It’s me!” Bucky was insistent.

You got up ready to run awayfrom him. You weren’t ready for this again.

“I love the way are too shy toeven submit your reports but are unstoppable to beat a criminal’s ass.” Buckycontinued. “I love how you tilt your head in small twitches when you getnervous. And how you try to hide it which usually makes you twitch even more.And I really love the fact that you are such a beautiful person and thecomplete opposite of Brianna.”

You felt like that now he was getting you under a love spell.But this one was for real.

“Y/N” Bucky said as he heldyour hands. “Please, be mine. For real this time.” He whispered as he leaneddown and kissed your lips.

Your body trembled at thetaste of him. You’ve waited for this for so long.

“How did you know?” You askedafter the kiss was over.

“By the way you look at me.”Bucky replied. “Or more like by the way you avoid looking at me.” He chuckledand so did you.

Hand in hand you got back atthe base. You couldn’t have been happier – Bucky was finally yours and Briannawas gone from your life. It took some time until the others accepted that Bucky’slove for you was real and not another love potion. Sam never truly got over itand actually slipped Bucky some anti-dots but his love for you never faded. Atyour wedding Sam finally accepted the truth and even became the godfather ofyour first child.

——————————————————

Thank you for reading! If you liked it please react - reply/like/reblog! Your support is appreciated!

This fic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

Typhoon Island Villager HCS [final]

Emma

Age: 21

Island occupation: Island Representative. Though she’s called a shady representative by many.

Sexuality: Bi.

Friends: All of her villagers of course! (though she does have her favorites, namely Punchy, Antonio and Bamikins.)

Very hard working. Is almost always running form one side of the island with new ideas for how to improve things

When she isn’t terraforming, pathing or planting, she’s hanging out with Punchy and her friends.

A gracious host, according to her. She wants all guests to check in with her first and foremost. Gets a little grumpy when someone doesn’t follow that rule.

Terrorizing Isabelle is her hobby, gets her through the day.

Loves rain, storms and fog the most.

Favorite season is winter. (Totally not because she can make the whole month of december about her.)

Has been bickering with Isabelle so long she’s accidentally befriended her. (easier to torment her that way)

Rumored to be good friends/has close ties with Redd. (How else did he get here?)

House has an incredibly ominous vibe. Something about it just isn’t quite right.

Is a great asset when you’re friends with her, when you aren’t though....

Almost always with Antonio and Bam (Three musketeers vibe) or Punchy.,

Doesn’t get along with Julian too well. Almost always yelling at him/swearing at him under her breath. 

Misses sloppy furniture damnit.

“ I don’t know about the missing people or the blood, stop asking about it.”

Bellionare.

Punchy

Age: 23

Island occupation: Professional Slacker. (sometimes he’ll help Emma garden and clean the beach though)

Sexuality: Bi at best.

Friends: Bob [bff], Kid Cat, Beau, Antonio, Weasel, Stitches. && ofc Emma.

The FavoriteTM.

Representative’s Pet.

Probably dating Emma

Absolute precious sweetheart

Naive, lazy, but can be sarcastic and snarky when you know him well enough.

Huge heart.

Snacks on snacks on snacks on snacks

Can be a cry baby at times.

Very affectionate with his friends

Usually seen in his yard, by the playground or in Emma’s orchard.

Favorite color is blue, Favorite activity is sunbathing and naps

You look in his home and you’ll be able to tell how much of a favorite he is.

Has nothing but good things to say about Emma. (Seriously shes all he talks about.)

Kind of scared of Bam. He doesn’t get along with him well, for ...obvious reasons.

Popular but didn’t ask to be. He’s just sweet and easy to love!

Really loves cherries. A lot. Seriously. Fastest way to the little kittys heart.

Also pretty good friends with Monsun key’s Lapis, asks about her sometimes.

Bam

Age: 20

Island Occupation: Has a part time job at the museum dusting and helping out with the fossils. 

Sexuality: Pretty het.

Friends: Emma, Ky, Swiss, Antonio, Kid Cat, Beau, Cheri, Getting to know Lucky.

Big brother vibes with a pretty bad temper if you know how to strike a nerve.

Best friends with the Island Rep and Antonio

Seems to be the island’s favorite target for teasing.

Gets along well with everyone …….except Punchy and Bob.

Avidly and openly does not like Punchy, its most likely due to jealousy. It’s also rumored the reason his his very blatant crush on Emma

Only person he likes less than Punchy is Bob as he is quote ‘an asshole’. (Its usually just Bob returning the favor though for Bam being a dick to Punchy).

Usually seen working out on the Beach, doing Yoga in the square, or taking walks. Really loves the Light house, the orchards and the Playground.

Known to be a little overbearing with his attitude problems when he doesn’t like someone. (He’s been seen walking around punchy’s house,and has hit him on a few occasions)

Is either your friend and super nice, or doesn’t like you and can be a dick.

Hangs out with Cheri and Beau a lot when his two right hand pals aren’t available.

Secretly wishes Brewster would come open a shop.

Beau

Age: 22

Sexuality: Pan.

Island occupation: Got a part time gardening position from Lief. Also helps the nooklings arrange their shop displays.

Friends: Topaz, Emma, Ky, Punchy, Bam, Stitches, Lucky, Julian

Sleepy eyed sweetheart.

Very Peaceful and kind, doesn’t like to see anyone fighting and wants everyone to get along.

Definitely the type to always say yes.

Rustic mountain town vibe. Really likes nature and long hikes.

Favorite season is winter.

Best friend’s are Topaz, Punchy, and Bam.

Talks to Blathers and Celeste a lot, very interested in natural history and astronomy.

Goal is to be good friends with everyone on the island. The only one he’s having trouble with is Antonio. He can’t quite figure him out yet.

Likes to have Tea with the island rep on Sundays.

Always wanted to be like the reindeer he’s seen on TV. He admires the lifestyle and aesthetic despite being an antelope.

Has a baby blanket he’s very attached to.

Loves kids, and babysits Kid cat and stitches often, he thinks they’re very sweet.

Plants trees, flowers and shrubs a lot. He really wants to make the island feel more woodsy.

Favorite spot is the museum, orchards and star gazing spot.

Julian

Age: 28

Sexuality: Gay Trans Icon.

Island occupation: He worked at the able sisters for a little while but they had to let him go because he went overboard and tried to control everything. He’s thinking about applying at brewsters. 

Friends: Kyanite! Topaz, Beau, Cheri, Punchy & Bob (sorta)

Narcissitic, Dramatic and self obsessed.

Only thing he loves more than himself, is a good book and singing.

Really loves to look good, and is constantly indecisive about what he wears.

Has an aesthetic and will NOT let you mess with it. Seriously, don’t give him furniture, he’ll give it away.

BFF is Ky.

He also gets along with Beau and Cheri. He can appreciate Beau’s simple pleasures in life, and his kindness. Cheri and him relate on pop culture and music.

Gossips constantly, cannot keep a secret to save his life, and only wants to know your business to talk about it.

Very loving friend once your’e close to him, and will likely only break his ‘peaceful’ face, for a friend. Pissing him off is hard to decipher most of the time, as he finds it beneath him to show ‘savage’ emotions.

Claims to be magic, but no one knows if he actually is, or he just uses his species to say that.

Usually seen in the square seeking attention, following others to eavesdrop, or at home either inside, or in his yard reading or writing.

Doesn’t seem to get along with Spinel too well. He tried to be friends with her but when it didn’t work out he just decided to mess with her for fun.

Dreads double visits from Ky and her girlfriend. As they mess with his lights until they break. Blames Spinel for encouraging it.

Very curious about Lucky and Stitches but kind of creeped out by them. He snoops on them when given the chances to do so though.

Loves the stargazing spot and Ky’s picnic area. He does enjoy a good stroll on the beach too when he isn’t shopping for stuff.

Cannot be without attention for too long, he will shove himself into your conversations, your day, and the town square and tell you gossip or start singing.

Wishes there were more people on the island that he could relate to.

Cheri

Age: 22

Sexuality: She like gurls

Island occupation: Has a part time job doing island clean up for Tom on the weekends. Thinking about asking the nooks to get her a part time job at the shop.

Friends: Pearl (Monsun key), Marina (Monsun key), Emma, Lapis (monsun key),  Weasel , Bam, Bob, Julian, Punchy (they bonded over music recently), Lucky (slowly but surely shes giving her lots of gifts and being in general sweet and cheri cant okay.)

Zero bullshit tolerance.

Sarcastic, snarky and loud, but a very loyal friend

Rap, Rock and Metal are her life

House so red you will forget what other colors are.

Rumored that she’s got an album, no one on the island knows if what she says is true.

Good friends with Bam, Bob and Julian.

Usually in the square Jamming or  Hanging out on the Beach.

Pretty good friends with the Island Representative, isn’t really into all the  gossip about her.

Thinks Kid Cat is cute, but also isn’t big on watching kids, so you know.

Good friends with Weasel, likes to talk to them every once and a while.

Literally don’t start an argument with her, you WILL lose.

‘ im a bad bitch, you cant kill me’

What the hell is stitches? What the fuck happened to lucky? IS anyone going to actually acknowledge how fucked up this is?? hello???

All concerns aside, she thinks both stitches and lucky are very sweet but seriously wtf.

Rapping in the square with her friends is the shit for her okay. She loves it. Has asked Emma to throw a rapping party to which she replied ‘eh.’

Leather jackets and cool clothes are just as important as looking cute as hell!

Talks about Raymond moving like it was the best thing to happen to mankind, and his existence on typhoon island like a bad dream. (she still holdin a grudge)

Antonio

Age: He....wont tell. well guess 25

Sexuality: Doesn’t talk about it.

Island occupation: Typhoon Island ditch digger.......he digs the graves. At least thats his supposed job. He’s seen some shit. Surely.

Friends: Emma, Bam, Swiss, Bob, Stitches, Lucky, Ky

One does not simply get rid of him

Is he all there or is he not?

Vacant stare

Either ramblings of insanity or way too meddling

Everyone calls him crazy but….he knows all the dirty laundry.

Usually in the square….listening..and watching

Favorite Song is K.K. Dirge

Digs the graves for the grave yard and probably puts up the missing signs.

Always seems to pop up out of nowhere. At the most..unnerving moments.

One of the least social, yet most involved somehow.

What are you hiding antonio?

Bob

Age: 24

Sexuality: Bi.

Island occupation: Doesn’t have one. Works booorring. Give him some games and food any day.

Friends: Punchy (BFF), Emma, Lapis (Monsun Key), Weasel, Kid cat, Stitches, Lucky, Beau is okay

Absolute Meme-er

BFF is Punchy

Constant jokes, no matter his mood. Is he serious? Is he not? good luck figuring that out.

The popular kid on the island, but he doesn’t really care.

Also good pals with Swiss.

Give him a dare and he will do it. Every time

Older than the island rep and talks about it alot like its a personality trait.

Play fights you.

Sarcasm for days.

Affectionately bullies you softly

Annoys Antonio for laughs

Pisses Bam off on purpose (they dont get along)

Favorite spot is the playground , the pool and the beach.

Thinks stitches and lucky are super friggin cool. So what if they’re a little weird? That’s what makes them so awesome.

Affectionately messes with cheri when shes’ trying to sing or rap in the square.

Kind of avoids julian because he doesn’t like how he talks down to him

Got kicked out of nooks cranny a couple times. Who even knows why.

Kid cat

Age: 12

Friends: Stitches, Emma, Weasel, Ky, Punchy, Bob, Bam, Antonio, Lucky, Beau, Cheri. (So like everyone.)

Is, as his name would suggest, A kid.

Absolute trash heap of a house. Like He actually lives like this?

The island rep felt bad for him and built him a nice bed. He’s very attached to it.

Best friend’s are Bam, Kody and Weasel.

Sees Bam as a big brother.

Wants everyone on the island to be friends.

Considers himself a super hero, always wants to be the one to save the day and help people with their problems.

Hangs out on the playground, claims the jungle gym as his ‘base’.

If he isn’t there he hangs out in the square trying to spread his ‘heroisms’

Wide eyed optimist

NARUTO RUNNING AROUND YOU.

Is probably going to stay up past his bed time. Whos going to stop him

Claims the ninja turtles live under his house.

Misses Raymond. Says the island is ‘missing its dad’

Stitches

Age: Ageless, but comes off as a 6-10 year old

Island occupation: Doing whatever Emma tells him. 

Friends: Emma, Punchy, Topaz, Kid Cat, Weasel, Beau, Lucky, Bob

A mash up of many different bears and animals before him. All of whom met an untimely end by the hands of the creature.

Is not aware of how he came to be, and it is in Emma’s best interest to keep it that way. She will make sure you don’t tell him.

Can’t see very well, and can’t speak. Instead is telepathic, and can speak in sign language if need be. You will be able to hear his voice, but his mouth will never move.

Doesn’t come out of his house too terribly often, and is not allowed out after dark.

Favorite activity is playing pretend! He loves his toys and his blocks, and sometimes will go over to kid cats or weasels to play pretend with them.

Refers to the island representative as a mother, which .....disturbs and disconcerns most.

really close with lucky. They relate on a lot of....similar misfortunes. They can also speak to each other privately through mystical means without interruption or eavesdropping from others.

Is as name would suggest, stitched up. Sometimes the seams come undone and his stuffing comes out. (Yes hes actually full of ...just stuffing.) stuffin’!

Seems to be alive by sheer paranormal means. There is nothing in him keeping him ticking biologically.

Wants to be friends with isabelle, but notices he frightens her, so he avoids town hall.

Favorite spots are his room, the picnic by kys house, and the playground. (He wants to learn the monkeybars!)

Really looks up to Punchy, and wants him to help teach him the ways of the world....though punchy may NOT be the best rolemodel.

Afraid of Bam and Antonio, but is put under their care often.

Lucky

Age: ......we aren’t sure. Shes been dead a while. The only one who might know is emma.

Island occupation: Haunting the island after dark. (She’d help out if anyone would hire her.)

Friends: Stitches, Emma, Bob, Beau, Swiss

Is as ‘luck’ would have it, dead. She’s a spirit.

Rumored first victim of the typhoon island serial killer. She’s been dead a while, as her house would show, she’s not had the privilege of living for quite some time now.

Her bandages are a permanent feature, and theres a rumor floating around that without it, there wouldn’t be much left to her---besides those piercing haunting eyes of course.

Has a very sweet, soft spoken voice. Almost as quiet as a distant whisper. 

Very good friends with Emma. Follows her around almost....an unnatural amount. Almost as if...she’s got some sort of attachment to her.

Has a grave in her back yard, which was not naturally there prior. Seems to have dug it herself. A comfort thing perhaps since to present knowledge she was never given proper burial.

A very kind dog, and very helpful if you give her the chance and look past her....otherworldly appearance.

Loves stitches like a baby brother, almost always hanging out with him more than anyone else, will protect him feircly.

Self conscious about her state of being dead, just wants to make friends and live a happy afterlife since hers was taken from her.

Loves gardening, though all her flowers turn into black roses....or die.

Favorite spot is the graveyard, the forest, and Emma’s orchards.

Thinks her and Isabelle would get along good! If....Isabelle didn’t run away from her.

Really loves K.K. Slider concerts. Always wants to be the first to attend them. Can he see her though? She’s not sure sometimes.

One Piece 955: Enma

I took all day to write this up just so much to talk about from this chapter!

Let me just start by saying what a chapter!! 8.75/10

I was not expecting it to drop a day early & had no idea what to expect of this chapter until I saw the title...Enma 🤔😏

First things first. I believe Bege & company just stumbled upon Dressrosa. He mentioned they were stopping there for supplies. I wonder if any Straw Hat supporters are still around and if a conversation will strike up about Luffy.

------

Ok now to the chapter...

It starts off with Hiyori telling Zoro & Kawamatsu that she will not meet up with the rest of the alliance in order to not stir unneccessary emotions before the battle. Her brother stated this before so it wasn't a surprise. What surprised me was that Kawamatsu told the rest of the Scabbards that Hiyori was still alive & well.

I guess it's a morale booster but I have this weird feeling that something bad will happen to her now that everyone knows she's ok.

A couple random facts about Hiyori:

• She puts up a coarse attitude but is actually a crybaby

• She was a Tomboy who didn't typically speak refined & politely

(So funny how Momo was like, "A flying kick from someone 18yrs older would really hurt." Lol ik the struggle of being terrorized by a little sister hahah)

Now we get to the crazy good stuff!!!

O-Kiku might be one of the MVPs for finding the randomly lost Nidai Kitetsu. I had no idea where it was. Thought Kaido must've done something with it when Luffy was thrown into the Udon Prison Mines like kept it in a storage within the prison or something. Zoro states that he knew it was a Meito (famous/named blade) I guess with Sandai at his side he could feel the cursed vibes.

Rarely does Oda show us the actual tying of loose ends.

I guess Hiyori didn't go off to retrieve Enma & Orochi doesn't have Ame no Habakiri...Hitetsu Tenguyama had them both the whole time. That's why he had been patiently awaiting the return of the Kozuki Family.

I love every aspect of the design especially the sheath.

Seems as if both swords are of the same grade level as Shusui, O Wazamono, 21 Great Grade Swords. So Zoro won't be getting one of the 12 Supreme Grade Swords, Saijo O Wazamono, just yet and I'm fine with that.

Hitetsu tells Zoro only Oden was ever able to tame Enma & ODEN MUST'VE BEEN A BEAST because this sword is crazzyyyyy powerful. Kin'emon even said he himself would not even want to take the blade.

When testing out the sword Zoro tried to cut a tree but ended up cut off part of the cliff/island they were all on! Just insane lmao like I was not expecting that much of a power boost at all!

In the next panel we see the blade going black, coating in haki as Zoro's arm is also clad in haki, but looks drained & frail.

(Sanji's face was hilarious but damn I feel his pain lol Sanji is my favorite Straw Hat & just got a power boost now Zoro's power up makes Sanji's Raid Suit, look not as powerful so I have mixed feelings hahhaha but I love reading Zoro moments.)

So the thing with Enma is that it draws out its wielders haki to maximum extremes by itself. Any average sword wielder would've been drained completely and left dead.

Typically we've seen Zoro have swords with minds of their own but this one is just on another level.

Zoro yells for the sword to give him back his Ryou and takes it all back. Then we get that crazy Zoro smile like he knows this is going to be a challenge to tame the blade but he's ready to take that on to become even stronger. Hitetsu asks Zoro does he want another sword & obviously Zoro says he's keeping Enma, further impressing Kawamatsu.

[Now the text heavy part because I don't want to make 2 seperate posts for this review and want to only use my favorite images from the chapter]

Robin, Ashura Doji, & Kin'emon are discussing the sheer numbers that the alliance and their opposition have. Seems as if there will be approx. 30,000 enemies on Onigashima vs their 4000.

We then get quick panels of :

Franky yelling at his workers to prepare the boat to hold 10,000 men

(made me think hmmm Straw Hat Grand Fleet's over 5000 + the 4000+ men they already have...maybeeeee *Spongebob voice)

Luffy practicing Ryuo in Gear 4th stating that he used too much physical force

Zoro and Momo training in the forest and Zoro states an old man from his village is where he first heard Sunnachi (Snatch) & this surprises Momo.

With two days left before the raid Chopper, O-Tama, and Luffy return to meet with everyone else & the Yakuza bosses have added another 200 men to the resistance's ranks. (~4200 vs ~30,000)

Kin'emon states there hasn't been any word from Law (it's been a few days since he's been free & still hasn't contacted the group....hmmmm)

Silly Shinobu tells Kin'emon to forget about Law and Chopper has to speak some truth like hey Law is super strong. Law clearly makes a substantial difference, he's a cheat code in most situations!

There are still many men locked up in the Capital that wish to fight. I'm guessing only a few hundred more but still any help matters at this point. We also get to see many of the Wano townspeople discussing Yasu's encrypted message. Of course some still don't have faith but they will be proved wrong.

The alliance splits into its respective groups with the Scabbards, Shinobu, and Momo headed to the harbor, meeting Luffy there later.

The literature used here to describe the Scabbards and their shadows as the walked was magnificent. I also loved how the spelling for frost was shimo as in Shimotsuki. 🤔🤔

We see Pedro's & Lord Yasu's grave in the graveyard of Oden & his retainers. We also see Wanda & O-Toko shedding tears at theory loved one's graves. Carrot looks hardened & ready to go.

Hitetsu reveals to Zoro that he was the bladesmith of the Sandai Kitetsu. And states Enma & the Sandai cannot be wielded by the weak. Hitetsu also reveals why Zoro has had a quick take to Enma: the bladesmith who made Enma also created Zoro's main sword, the Wado Ichimonji. It was crafted by Yusaburo Shimotsuki, who fled Wano illegally over 50 years ago. Hiyori probably saw what swords Zoro held (Shusui, Wado Ichimonji, & Sandai Kitetsu) and decided he was worthy of her father's keepsake.

I just cannot believe that Hitetsu said that IN ZORO'S HANDS ENMA COULD RISE IN RANK & BECOME A BLACK BLADE! So then would it become O Saijo Wazamono???? Hmmmm I wonder.

It seems like Luffy has gotten a hell of a lot stronger! Didn't even get close to the tree and destroyed it from the other side (almost reminded me of that scene in Naruto when him and Sasuke battled on the roof of the hospital haha if you know you knowwww)

Law is definitely not the traitor. Like it's too obvious. Simply because Oda telegraphed this traitor vibe a couple times;I swear he's just messing with us.

Will Kyoshiro be revealed to be Denjiro soon?

I just wonder how Orochi found out this info.

And now we get a closing to Act II.

Just an epic chapter.

I swear Oda is hinting that Zoro may be a descendant/relative of the Shimotsuki family along with his teacher Koushirou.

Could even be a family tree like Hinata/Neji but I'm probably reaching there. Very interesting how bits and pieces of his past is flashed in front of us.

I guess only time will tell, but I bet Koushirou's father was Yusaburo Shimotsuki.

Technically this is a fic rec. Technically, because I am in the middle of writing it, but, uh, I’m also……………. worried about the reaction (I don’t tend to write ‘character critical’ pieces, especially for HP, especially about certain stanned characters) so….. uh…. I was wondering if submitting the first chapter here would, maybe, perhaps, I don’t know… it’s late and I just read a bunch of things about how “”“abusive”“’ Ron would be and I’m just. Tired. of that shit and bc it’s Late so. uh….. here, I hope you like it? :

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings

:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M

Gen

Fandom:

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationships:

Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley

Harry Potter & Ron Weasley

Lavender Brown & Parvati Patil

Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley

Characters:

Ron Weasley

Harry Potter

Lavender Brown

Hermione Granger

Parvati Patil

Minerva McGonagall

Additional Tags:

Ron Weasley-centric

Hermione Granger Critical

Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley

Friendship

Friendship/Love

Best Friends

Male-Female Friendship

Female Friendship

Male Friendship

Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

not so much implied as very much stated but it doesn’t occur duing the story

Child Abuse Leaves Mental Scars Thanks

You Don’t Attack Your Friends Kids

That’s Called Assault And Even Potentially Abuse

y'all are out here calling Ron abusive and like???? no??? Clearly if any of them were

it’d be Miss Granger - thank god she’s not because she’d be a terror

but - Freeform

violent behaviour?? check

violent behaviour that went unaddressed except to be praised????? check check check

mhmmmmmmm no thanks

Language: English Stats: Published:2019-05-23Words:

Chapters:1/1Hits:0

Golden Bullets

CescaLR

Notes:

It’s the 'Graphic Depictions of the Aftermath of Violence From A Previously Trusted Source’ sooooooooooooooooooo since that’s not a tag, per say… that Unholy Trinity of warnings is to be used by me. Again.

Also, I want to reiterate; I do not nor have I ever hated Hermione Jean Granger. I don’t particularly like or enjoy some of her actions, quite frankly, and the same can be said for many a character. It’s like my love for Willow Rosenberg, or Stanford Pines, or - well, any number of characters. Flaws are /there/, and they should be addressed, especially if the author overlooked them. Hermione is an egregious example of doing things without repercussion, and this is the most startling example of that. Not even Harry said /anything/ about how bad this was. Ron wasn’t even really /mad/; he didn’t /retaliate/, and this is /Ron/. Ron not retaliating to verbal abuse or physical violence is unlikely to the point of it being OOC, and I can’t belive JK did this. Even if it was Hermione who did the spell, and though it’s unlikely since that’s the case that he’d retaliate in a phsyical manner - but he’d surely not so easily go back to the will-they-won’t-they of before, frankly. That shit was betrayal, plain and simple; you. Don’t. Hurt. Your. Friends. I can’t believe I have to explain this. I’ve seen /defense/ for her actions in this scene and.

. . . No.

So here this is.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

”… Ron,“ Harry starts.

"I’ll just - do what she says,” Ron interrupts. “Hermione’s right, anyway - don’t want to leave Lavender waiting.”

And then he’s gone, before Harry can finish what he was going to say. And, frankly… he’s almost glad, because Harry’s not sure what words would have come out of his mouth - or how much worse they would have made the situation. 

Not how much better. Harry’s not sure he could have made this situation any better with just a few words - he’s still in shock, really. Hermione just - she just.

On the flip of a coin - Harry had thought her tears were for sadness, and he thinks that they were, yes but - also, it can’t be ignored -

They were for anger. Vicious fury, really - she hadn’t held back, hadn’t pulled her punches.

Ron’s arms were - are bleeding, Harry thinks, faintly. It’s like -

He doesn’t like to think this, but in the quiet privacy of his own head, this is like those times when he’d be doing his chores, and his Aunt would be in the room, and he’d do one thing, just one small mistake he didn’t even notice - and she'd snap. Swing a frying pan at his head, yell at him, throw something… it’s like that. Calm to furious; sad to violent.

Harry, in this private moment, allows a shudder at the thought - but then, furiously, violently, shoves it into the back of his head.

This isn’t his argument. For once - it’s not his fight. He should - he would, but Harry… Harry knows Hermione’s upset with Ron for kissing Lavender, and maybe, perhaps, just slightly, he things there’s an irony to that - to her being upset with that, when she’s jealously upset with Ron for being jealously upset about her kising Viktor - but also -

Ron doesn’t… Ron doesn’t know that, Harry thinks, just as Hermione doesn’t know that’s why Ron’s upset with her. And it’s not - Ron didn’t resort to… that.

And Harry - Harry doesn’t want to get between Hermione’s wand and her - target.

And he hates this - but.

That goes for when the target is Ron, too.

(The thing is. He flinches enough when people he doesn’t know very well move suddenly towards him, he moves quickly away enough when people he doesn’t like get near his personal space - he doesn’t…. he doesn’t want to associate his near-sister with - with…

With that.)

Lavender watches with a frown as Hermione stalks past, and not a few moments later the door opens and -

“Ron!” She exclaims, and hurries to his side. They aren’t dating yet - god, they’ve only shared the one kiss! They’ll be dating soon, she’s got plans, but not quiet yet - but, ohmygod -

“Ron!” She repeats, horrified, as she gingerly picks up his hands by the unblemished skin - what’s left of it, anyway - and holds his arms up for inspection. He’s bleeding - holes and cuts and slices… and are those feathers?

“What happened?” Lavender asks, gently pulls him away from the door and towards an alcove, as she takes out her wand. “Episkey,” She says, and the wounds don’t close. “Episkey,” She repeats more forcefully, and Ron hisses, but the wounds do stop bleeding a little. It slows down, anyway. “Sorry!” Lavender cries out quietly, for any pain she caused, and hastily puts away her wand. “We should take you to the hospital wing - what happened?” Lavender repeats, looks up into his (dreamy, ohmygod, I kissed Ron Weasley!! Focus, Lavender, are you really thinking about that now? He’s hurt, God-) eyes and pleades with her expression for him to tell her.

Lavender’s not stupid - she can totally figure it out on her own; Harry would never attack Ron, and besides, his conjouring could do with some work, plus, he’d want any wounds he inflicted on his best mate to be fixed stat and whoever’s magic caused this doesn’t want that - so…

That leaves Granger.

(There’s a spell with your name on it, I swear, Hermione- If you did this to not just my boyfriend but your best friend -)

Lavender had never particularly liked Hermione Granger, she’ll be the first to admit that. In their first years she’d been bossy and wouldn’t talk with them about much, and then she closed off after becoming friends with Harry and Ron, and then she was petrified for most of second year so Lavender never got a chance at a better second introduction, and then third year rolled around and she was so tired Lavender didn’t want to bother her, and then she had the gall to say what she did about Lavender’s rabbit and then Lavender really didn’t like her, for reasons that should be obvious, and in fourth year she was distracted and Lavender didn’t want to be friends with her anymore, and then in fifth year everything went so terribly that Lavender was just focusing on keeing her head above water -

And now. And now.

“I don’t -” Ron starts, falters, as he looks down and seems to realise what happened to his arms - “I don’t need the hospital wing,” He says. “And it’s -”

“If you say fine I swear -” Lavender lets go of his hands and places hers on his shoulders, shaking him lightly, “Ron, please. Think! You’re hurt, please, just - just tell me.”

“It’s not that -” Ron shrugs, uncomfortable, and Lavender lets go of his shoulders. A little hurt, but.. well, she hasn’t gotten to the 'get to know each other well and learn that it’s great to divulge secrets to one-another, go communication and sharing!’ stage of her 'woo Ron Weasley’ plan yet, so. She gets it, though… in his place - well. Lavender supposes she can’t claim to know what she’d do, if she were attacked by say - Parvati.

God, she’d be in shock forever.

For. Ever.

Maybe she should skip the 'reaffirm and solidify physical attraction’ portion of the plan?

“Okay,” Lavender says. “Okay. Just… let me bandage some of the worst ones, please?”

“… yeah, alright,” Ron says. Lavender smiles at him, and - he smiles back, a little small and a little forced, maybe because he’s still shocked that one of his two friends just attacked him.

Probably. That sounds most likely.

… Lavender doesn’t think this lightly, but. Bitch.

Lavender carefully links fingers with him, because they managed to mostly escape being diced up, and slowly walks back to the common room with him. Hopefully, by the time they arrive, Hermione will be back in bed or long gone, the latter much prefered, because Lavender isn’t sure what she’d do if she came across Hermione Granger any time soon.

Ron and Lavender re-enter the common room not long after Hermione walked in, walked upstairs, and slammed her dorm’s door.

“Fucking hell,” Someone mutters. “What’d you two get up to?”

Lavender glares at the seventh year, and clutches Ron’s fingers - not his hand, Ginny notes, absently, as she stares in confusion at the mess of Ron’s arms - protectively.

“We didn’t do anything, not that it’s any of your business,” Lavender says, and Ginny feels a suprirsing uptick in respect for the girl.

“Alright, whatever,” The guy says, and then he leaves the common room. The parties died down; the disappearance of Ron and Harry and Hermione and then the rest of everyone who was pairing off or getting tired had left the place quiet a bit quieter than when Ron and Lavender had last been in there - and made their entrance that much more of a scene, Ginny thinks.

“Scram,” Ginny says, loudly, as she stands. Some people look at her. “I said scram,” She repeats, threateningly, and the rest of the people in the room do, as she places her hand on her wand and glares at them.

She might find it funny when mild misfortunes occur to her brothers, she might find it amusing to tease them - but if her brothers are hurt?

No.

“What happened?” Ginny demands, and walks over.

Lavender pouts slightly; obviously, Ron hadn’t degined to tell her. Yet.

“Just…” Ron shrugs. Ginny narrows her eyes at him. “Am I going to have to ask Hermione? Harry?” Ginny asks, and Ron -

winces.

Ginny frowns, and notes Lavender’s glare in the direction of the girls’ dorms.

Ginny looks back at her brother. “What happened?” She repeats, more warily. At that moment, the portrait swings open, and Harry steps into the common room. Ginny rounds on him, because if nothing else, she can ususally expect Harry to defend his friends from harm. “What. Happened.” She demands, slowly, and gestures with her wand at Ron’s arms.

“… Hermione.” Harry says, and it’s - strange. Like, even to his own ears, he can’t believe what he’s saying.

The thing is. Ginny… Ginny kind of can. Just a little. Marrietta’s got permanent scars - physical retribution, because that spell wasn’t preventative, just punishment, that’s… not beyond Hermione’s… ideals, morals, or whatever that falls under, Ginny thinks.

If she thought Ron had betrayed her in some way? Even though they’re best friends, even though Hermione likes him and you’d be dumb not to notice Ron likes her back (which proves they’re both very dumb, at least when it comes to romance, Ginny thinks)… you know, Ginny… Ginny can’t not see it.

That’s a daunting thought. That - realisation. Ginny signed that contract, too. How had the curse - because it’s a curse, only curses can leave permanent, unable to be healed magically, scars - worked? Did it count anyone that hadn’t signed the sheet being told about the DA as betrayal? What if Ginny had wanted to invite someone new to the DA that she trusted? Would the curse have affected her if she’d told them about it in order to invite them, or did the curse somehow differentiate? What if Colin had told his dad, who surely wouldn’t have been untrustworthy; would he have been branded a 'Sneak’? Or little Dennis?

Ginny couldn’t be sure, she supposes, so she pushses that line of thought aside for now.

“Hermione?” Ginny repeats. It - it sounds ridiculous to her own ears. Hermione, who had been friends with her brother for six years; who had been by his side through most every dangerous adventure during that time; who had a crush on him; who was one of his two best friends - she did this?

Hermione - who can be casually, accidentally cruel; who does, Ginny admits, hurt people with magic; who has, Ginny knows, done so before…

“Oh.”

“Yeah, well.” Ron says, gruffly - embarrased, Ginny thinks. Humilliated. Upset. Maybe a little - or, well, no, a lot betrayed.

But mostly… this - as much as Ginny teased him, teases him… this was his night. His victory. This shouldn’t have happened at all, but, today of all days?

“I’m tired,” Ron says. “G'night,”

“Good night,” Ginny echoes. Ron stomps off, and Harry, who shares a dorm with him, trails after. He’s hesitant, Ginny thinks, which is - very unlike him.

But then - Harry just witnessed…

Oh dear Merlin.

“Fuck,” Ginny says. She looks at Lavender, who’s frowning worriedly, chewing at her bottom lip. Anxious and concerned.

“D'you wanna stay in our dorm tonight?” Ginny asks. “The others won’t mind.”

“… Thank you,” Lavender says. “I just - I don’t know what I’d do. She did that to won-won…”

Ginny refrains from commenting on that atrocious nick-name, and grimaces. Because… yeah, she’d probably curse Hermione if she saw her right now.

“Yeah, okay, come on,” Ginny says, and leads the way.

Harry stares up at the canopy of his bed when he wakes, and doesn’t move until he hears the room empty of other people. He takes his time getting ready for the day, because if he doesn’t then he’s going to have to choose who to sit next to at lunch - most assuredly, Ron and Hermione won’t be speaking for a while, and Harry’s going to have to choose a side.

Again.

Harry’s tired of this. He’s so tired; tired of their arguing, tired of their fights, their mutual jealousy, tired - tired of something so quietly terrible that he didn’t quite realise until Hermione literally caused conjoured canaries to attack his best mate.

Harry rather likes Hermione - but he likes Ron more, if he’s honest, and yet…

He can’t pick Ron’s side, because, right now, Hermione’s, well -

Volatile, a quiet voice whispers in the back of his head. Keep your head down and your mouth shut, her mood will pass. So will his.

Because Ron’s bound to be angry now, too. He got the shock and the sadness part out of his system last night - now, his upsetness is going to manifest in broody, moody anger, and just when Harry had gotten him back to high spirits again.

Harry closes his eyes. He squeezes them shut and counts, quietly, for a bit, before he gathers his wits, squares his shoulders, and heads down into the common room.

  Notes:

#ronweasleydefensesquad #youdon'thurtyourfriendskids #that'seitherassaultorabusedon'tdoit #harry'sanabusedkid;thatshouldhavebeendealtwithatsomepointbutwassteadfastedlyignoredandihateit #jkcancatcharockettospaceidon'twantherheretohurtthesecharactersanymorethanshealreadyhas

VIVI’S COMMENTS:

Oh my fucking holy shit goodness of fuck this is PERFECT.

Like, goosebumps. Through the whole thing. Fuck yes.

Oh, Lavender, Lavender was FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC. I love her so much. She’s adorable and so, so clever too. Gah, I’m practically rooting for Ron and her to stay together, and I’m not a big Ronvender shipper! See what you did to me?!

That was a flipping masterpiece. KEEP IT COMING!!

Now that team ITS is playing Phasmophobia on stream (I mean they are when I am sending this) can we get ghost hunters team ZITS?! I'd love to see the full team of morons (affectionate) dealing with ghosts.

I love Team ZITS so much, they’re such morons (affectionate). Just a few notes for this one:

1) CW: swearing

2) This loosely takes place in Phasmophobia. Some details are different/altered to fit the story better

3) Also I would just like to clarify that even though they reference playing Among Us, all my fics are set in the fictional world. I will never write about the real people, only their Hermitcraft characters/personas. 

...

  “Okay, guys.” Impulse addresses his team in the back of their van, handing out pieces of equipment as he talks. “We’ve got a poltergeist living in this house right here. Our job is to get evidence and get the hell out before it kills us. Any questions?”

  Zedaph raises his hand. “Yes, what happens if it kills us?”

  “We die,” Tango says wryly. “Permanently. So don’t get killed.” 

  “I guarantee at least one of us isn’t getting outta here alive,” Skizzleman remarks. “And all the times we played Among Us is telling me it’s gonna be Tango.”

  Tango shoots him a scowl. “Hey!”

  “Well, if you really don’t wanna die first, find some kind of electrical room and send Impulse there,” snickers Skizzleman. 

  Impulse rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Skizz. Anyway, we only have one piece of equipment each so we gotta make sure we work together. Skizz, you’ve got the camera to take pictures of the ghost. Tango, you’ve got the EMF reader so you can gauge the strength of ghostly presences. Zed, you’ve got the temperature tracker so you can check when the rooms get freezing. Everyone understand?”

  “What have you got, exactly?” Skizzleman inquires.

  Impulse holds up the item in his hand. “A flashlight that doubles as a UV light. I’m the one who’s gonna go first into each room and probably get killed in, like, ten seconds.”

  “A true hero,” says Zedaph, nodding. 

  “And don’t forget that the instructions say that if the flashlight beam starts to blink, that means the ghost is hunting,” Tango adds. “We should stick close to you so we know when to panic.”

“Gotcha.”

  The team makes their way towards the dark, dilapidated house. 

  “Man, the only way this could be more stereotypically creepy is if it had cobwebs in the windows,” mutters Skizzleman. “I dunno about you guys but I have zero trouble believing a ghost lives here.”

  Impulse pauses outside the house, glancing back at his friends. “Okay, the name of the ghost is William Thomas. And it said in the instructions that saying a ghost’s name will anger it, so try not to do that.” 

  With that, the four creep into the house. 

  They tiptoe into the first room in the house, Impulse shining his flashlight hesitantly around to make sure they’re alone. He switches to the UV light but no fingerprints show up anywhere.

  “Hey, have you guys heard that song about Shia LaBeouf being a cannibal?” Zedaph asks out of the blue.

  His friends stare at him.

  “No I haven’t, and also, what the hell?” says Tango.

  “I’ve heard it,” Skizzleman says. “What made you think of it NOW of all times?”

  “I was just thinking about how the ghost might be a cannibal and eat our bodies when it kills us, and that made me think of that song and now it’s stuck in my head.” 

  A pause follows this.

  “Aaaaand now it’s stuck in mine too,” Skizzleman sighs. “Great. Thanks.”

  “The image of a ghost feasting on our corpses is stuck in MY head and now I don’t want to move,” Tango says. “So thanks for that, Zed.”

  Zedaph grins to himself. “Anytime.” 

  A tense pause follows this.

  BANG!

  Skizzleman screams. “AHHH, WHAT WAS THAT?!”

  Impulse, heart now racing, instinctively shines his light towards the source of the noise. “I think it came from upstairs! Tango, Skizz, go check it out!” 

  “Why me?!” yelps Skizzleman. 

  “Because you’ve got the camera! Now go!”

  Tango drags a protesting Skizzleman away towards the stairs. 

  “Okay, while they’re doing that, let’s start eliminating rooms as the epicentre,” says Impulse to his remaining friend. “Keep the temperature tracker up.”

  Zedaph nods. “Will do.”

  The two start exploring the downstairs rooms. The kitchen and dining room show no signs of paranormal activity but when they enter the living room, something changes.

  “I’m cold,” Zedaph whispers, the temperature tracker trembling slightly in his hand. “It says three degrees. Not quite freezing yet.”

  “Right, okay… Stay here and monitor the temperature, I’ll go check for handprints by the stairs.”

  He moves off into the hallway and shines the UV light around at the staircase. 

  Upstairs, Skizzleman is clutching the camera so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. “Oh my god, I hate this so much. I feel like I’m gonna have a damn heart attack.” 

  Ignoring him, Tango activates his walkie talkie. “Impulse, can you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” comes Impulse’s crackly voice. “Found anything?” 

  “Nothing yet. We’re just having a look around.”

  “Okay, good. Remember, saying the ghost’s name a lot will make it mad so if you want to aggravate it a bit to get evidence, do that. But make sure you don’t say it too much or it’ll REALLY get angry.”

  Tango nods. “Gotcha. Talk to you later.”

  He puts away the walkie talkie and turns to Skizzleman, who is staring around the dark room with fearful eyes. “H-Hello, Mr William Thomas? Or, uh… Bill? Can I call you Bill?”

  He gets no response from the ghost, so he tries again: “Hey William, do you play Minecraft?”

Tango stifles a laugh.

  A few seconds later, a heavy-looking lamp in the corner tips over and falls all on its own, nearly crushing Skizzleman. 

  Impulse glances sharply up as he hears Skizzleman scream. He immediately hears Tango’s loud voice reassuring him, so he forces himself to relax. Nothing bad is happening. His friends are okay, they’re just a little on-edge, like Impulse himself. He just needs to relax.

  Inhaling deeply, he takes out the plastic water bottle he brought with him. As he sips at the cool water, he hears Skizzleman’s voice yelling from the upstairs bedroom: “HEY BILL, FUCK OFF!”

  Tango’s voice shrieks back, “SKIZZ, DON’T PISS OFF THE GHOST WHO’S TRYING TO KILL US!”

  “IF HE’S TRYING TO KILL US ANYWAY THEN WHY CAN I NOT TELL HIM TO GO FUCK HIMSELF?”

  Impulse chokes on his water. 

  “Impulse, I think Skizz is freaking out,” says Zedaph, peering round the door. “And I’m starting to freak out too. The temperature went below zero, like, six times in a few minutes.”

  “Right, okay, that’s one piece of evidence collected,” Impulse says. “Two more to go, then we can get outta here.”

  As Zedaph opens his mouth to respond, they both hear a loud thumping noise and Skizzleman screaming. 

  His heart leaping into his throat, Impulse and Zedaph dash upstairs at top speed and both almost trip right over Skizzleman on the landing.

  “Skizz, what the hell?!” yelps Impulse.

  Lying face down on the carpet, Skizzleman is glad it’s dark so the others can’t tell how red his cheeks are. “I… tripped over my own feet.” 

  “Oh, I hate you so much.” Impulse hauls his best friend to his feet. “Please tell me you have some more evidence for me.”

  “I got a level 5 reading,” Tango says, standing in the doorway to the bedroom. 

  “Okay, good, that counts. We got freezing temperatures downstairs, so now we just gotta look for-.”

  He breaks off as an ominous noise sounds from downstairs.

  The group stare at each other in terror.

  “Please tell me that was just someone’s stomach,” Skizzleman groans. 

  Impulse’s flashlight beam starts blinking.

  “Run!” Impulse screeches.

  The four scatter.

  Skizzleman and Zedaph dash inside the bedroom and jump into the closet, both breathing hard. They fall silent, listening intently for any sounds outside the closet.

  A minute goes by. Then another. Then a few more.

  “So,” whispers Zedaph. “Come here often?”

  Skizzleman can’t help a quiet snicker, despite the situation. “No, I really don’t. What about you?”

  “Well, oddly enough, this isn’t my first time hiding from a ghost in a stranger’s wardrobe.”

  “That genuinely does not surprise me one bit.”

  Zedaph’s walkie talkie emits a sudden burst of static, giving the two a fright. “Zed, come in. Where are you guys?”

  Zedaph fumbles with the device and hurriedly whispers into it, “Impulse, I think the ghost is still nearby.”

  “Nope it’s not. It’s currently having a very intense staring contest with Tango, so we could do with your help right now.”

  Zedaph and Skizzleman exchange a look of horror.

  Downstairs, Tango has been backed into a corner, frozen with fear as he makes terrified eye contact with the gruesome poltergeist, who is less than three metres away from him. “Impy,” he whispers out the corner of his mouth. “Help me.”

  Impulse dithers by the door, itching to go help his best friend but unsure of exactly how to do that without getting one or both of them killed. 

  Zedaph and Skizzleman appear next to Impulse seconds later. “Can we distract the ghost in any way?” the former asks urgently, as Skizzleman takes a picture of the spirit. 

  Impulse hesitates. “I-I don’t know how we’d do that.” 

  “Well, we have to do something! We can’t just let it kill Tango!”

  The poltergeist moves jerkily to the side, causing Tango to let out a strangled cry and press his back harder against the wall. “Help!” 

  Reacting quickly, Skizzleman snatches the temperature tracker from Zedaph and tosses it at the ghost. It passes right through its body, nearly hitting Tango.

  “Hey, William fucking Thomas, stay the hell away from my buddy!” Skizz yells at it.

  “Dude!” Impulse yelps, as the poltergeist turns on them. “RUN!”

  The three scramble for the door.

  Tango, seeing his chance, dodges around the ghost and follows, almost tripping over at least twice as he does.

  Skizzleman again trips over his own feet on the concrete pathway, and since he’s at the front of the group, the other three promptly fall over him and end up in a heap on the ground, panting hard from fear and exertion. 

  “Oh my God,” gasps out Impulse. “Is everyone okay?”

  Zedaph sticks his thumb up. “Very much below average, thanks.” 

  “My heart is about to die but yeah, I’m fine,” Skizzleman breathes. “I’m gonna have nightmares about this for months.”

  “Months?!” Tango is lying sprawled on his back, his heart still pounding in his chest. “Dude, I’m never gonna sleep well again.”

  Impulse pushes himself into a sitting position and watches the ghost float around angrily in the front doorway. “Looks like he can’t leave the house. PLEASE tell me we got three pieces of evidence.”

  At the same time, all three of the others speak:

  “Temperature,” says Zedaph.

  “Photo,” says Skizzleman. 

  “EMF reading,” says Tango. 

  “Right, then.” Impulse gets to his feet and opens up the back of the van. “Let’s get going. We can process the evidence in the van.”

  Skizzleman is the next to stand up and come to the back of the van. Rubbing his chest, he raises an eyebrow at Impulse. “Dude, we are DEFINITELY stopping at Taco Bell on the way home. We DESERVE Taco Bell.”

  Impulse chuckles. “Oh, you’ll hear no argument from me there, dude.” 

  As Zedaph hops into the back of the van, he grins back at his friends. “Now that was what I call a Shia Surprise.” 

  Impulse frowns and starts to open his mouth but Skizzleman shakes his head. “Don’t even ask, bro.” 

  Finally, Tango hands the EMF reader to Impulse and wordlessly starts to head to the front of the van but Impulse stops him. “Tango, are you okay? I-I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more in there.”

  Tango slowly shakes his head. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all.” He gives a pale grin. “Just promise me that next time we get the urge to do something stupid with the paranormal that we’ll use a oujia board like normal people.”

  Impulse laughs. After that experience, he’s just happy his friends are all okay.

  “Deal.”