#I in fact enjoy being able to stay conscious and not risk hitting my head and badly injuring myself

[nyastyaraspurrtina]

Happy disability pride month to everyone, but especially to people who try to treat it and are told that they need to stop doing that because it's unhealthy and will "hurt them in the long run" even though it's the recommended way to treat it.

[drabbles-mc]

Safe & Sound

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Request by @frattsparty​​, @garbinge​​, and Anon: #11 with Bishop: “I almost lost you” kiss (Prompt from This List)

Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending), hospitals, mentions of injuries, mentions of car accidents

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: All three of you sent in this request and that fact alone made my heart soooo happy haha. Hope you guys enjoy it!!

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

Bishop Losa Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists just let me know!)

Bishop has experienced more than his fair share of loss in his lifetime. Every kind of loss you could go through, he’s been there already. He’s lost relationships of every kind, he’s lost friends and family to the inescapable grip of death. From the military to the MC, the numbers had grown too high to count. Somewhere along the way he started to push it all down, become hardened to it. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to function at all. He truly believed that he had hardened past the point of no return, become too jaded for any loss to hit home anymore.

Until Hank walked into Templo one night looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“Bishop…” his voice was timid, which wasn’t at all like him.

“What?” Bishop had been so in his own head, too busy stressing over the MC falling apart to even notice Hank walk in.

“Y-you gotta get to the hospital,” he forced out.

Bishop’s brows furrowed, unsure why he was being so vague, “Why?”

“It’s Y/N.”

He shot up out of his seat, “What the fuck happened?”

Fear was written plain as day on Hank’s face, “I-I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me—I’m not family.”

“Fuck!” he slammed his fist down on the table before racing out of Templo.

His rage was written all over his face—unable to show genuine fear he leapt right to anger. He didn’t know what happened but the reality of it was that it didn’t matter. You were laid up in a hospital somewhere and someone was going to have to pay for it. Everyone who was in the clubhouse saw the tension in his features and stayed well out of his way as he quickly strode towards the door. Angel got halfway through asking what was wrong before he realized that Bishop wasn’t going to offer a word to anyone, his only concern being getting to you.

He tore down the streets of Santo Padre on his bike. By some minor miracle, he got to the hospital safely and didn’t need to be laid up in the room next door to yours. He gripped his helmet tight in his hand as he stormed in, Hank hot on his heels after somehow managing to keep up with him on the wild ride over.

After a very disjointed talk with one of the nurses, who was clearly intimidated by everything about Bishop at the moment, he was finally being led back to see you. Hank offered to go back with him but Bishop waved him off, saying that he was fine.

“Really, Bishop, I don’t know if you should be—”

“I said I’ll be fucking fine, Hank,” he snapped.

Hank backpedaled, taking a deep breath before finding a seat off to the side in the waiting area. He didn’t know what Bishop was about to be walking into—neither of them really did. The last thing he was going to do was leave him there alone. Even if he was acting like a dick at the moment.

The nurse walked him to the doorway, hanging back as he walked into the room. The rage he’d been holding onto began to wear away as he looked at you, his fear and sadness taking over. He set his helmet on one of the chairs as he slowly approached your bed. One hand came up to cover his mouth as tears gathered in his eyes. Once he reached your bedside, the nurse took that as her cue to step away, giving Bishop a moment to process all that was laid out in front of him.

You looked peaceful. There were a few cuts on your face, and your right arm was strapped up in a sling, but the expression on your face was almost one of contentment. For some reason that made his heart break even more. A choked sob slipped past his lips as he reached forward and gently caressed your cheek, as if to make sure that you were really there and really okay. He studied the steady rise and fall of your chest in a desperate attempt to try and calm himself.

“Fucking drunk drivers,” he muttered under his breath as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

He pulled a chair as close to your hospital bed as he could manage, not wanting to climb up next to you and risk hurting you further. The nurse reassured him that you would be alright, you just needed whatever rest you would be able to get, but he wasn’t going to believe that until you woke up and spoke to him. They might’ve seen you conscious and speaking but until he saw it for himself none of that mattered. He slid his hand into your own, letting out a deep, strangled sigh as he tried not to break down.

Minutes ticked by in hospital silence, meaning the only noise came from the monitors at your bedside, and the occasional sound of loud footsteps from outside the door of your room. Bishop didn’t move a muscle, unable to do anything besides stare at you and trace his fingers over the knuckles of your good hand.

You let out a quiet groan as you started to wake up. His eyes widened, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly in anticipation. You fought to open your eyes, exhaustion still weighing heavily on you. your eyes slowly started to flutter open and you began to register what was happening around you—you felt the warmth of Bishop’s hand clasping yours and you could hear the hitch in his breathing.

“Obispo?” your voice was raspy with sleep, and residual pain from everything you’d been through.

He let out a sob that turned into a laugh of relief, “Querida,” he lifted the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it lightly as he mumbled his words against your skin, “Fuck, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Baby?” you said quietly as you tilted your head slightly to get a better look at him.

He lifted his head, “Yea?”

“Come here,” you took your hand out of his and motioned for him to join you on the bed.

“I don’t wanna hurt—”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured, scooting over to make room for him to join you, your movements slow and rigid as you tried to maneuver without causing yourself more pain.

Bishop carefully settled onto the bed next to you, letting out a deep sigh of relief as he let you lean comfortably against him. He felt your body heat seeping over into him and he couldn’t deny that it was the best thing that he’d felt in a long time, the strongest type of reassurance.

“I love you,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against the side of your head.

“I love you too,” you reached over with your good hand and gently trailed your fingers down the side of his face.

“Hey, sweetheart?” his voice was just above a whisper.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, “Hm?”

He cupped one side of your face in his hand, carefully tracing his thumb along your cheek, sure to avoid glossing over any of the fresh scrapes. His eyes were glassy with tears as he looked at you, and you found yourself with a small, soft smile on your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d ever seen Bishop look so vulnerable.

You opened your mouth to say something but before you could get the first syllable out, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, the rough pads of his fingers moving so lightly along your cheek and down to your neck and shoulder. You leaned into him as much as you could without hurting yourself, wishing that you could melt completely into the feeling that you were experiencing with him as the two of you laid together, lips locked. You trailed your fingers through his beard as his lips moved in sync with yours. The slight tension in his body let you know that he was fighting hard against the urge to hold you tight and pull you as close as humanly possible. He was doing everything that he could to make one kiss communicate everything that he wasn’t able to show you otherwise.

When he pulled himself away from you, allowing you to catch your breath, you felt the rigidity in his body start to give way. His forehead rested against yours as he shut his eyes tight, trying to focus on the fact that you were really there with him, that everything was going to be alright.

You knew that there were a million thoughts running through his head, that every person he’d ever lost was coming back to haunt him. You placed a light peck on his lips as you rested your hand on his chest, “We’re alright, Obispo.”

His breath came out shaky as he nodded, “We’re alright.”

There were a few beats of silence as the two of you laid together. Bishop’s eyes were closed as he tried to focus solely on the feel of your body leaning against his. You were fighting the urge to fall back to sleep again, wanting to soak up the small comfort of having him with you for the time being.

You saw someone appear in the doorway. Forcing your eyes to focus, you realized it was Hank. A small smile crossed your face as you nudged Bishop, who immediately opened his eyes and glanced over at the door.

“Oh,” Hank rested his hand on the back of his neck, clearly knowing that he was interrupting, “I was just checking…I just wanted to make sure…I’ll just…it looks like you’re all good here so…”

“We’re good,” you said quietly with a laugh, “Thank you, Hank.”

“Yea, of course,” he diverted his gaze to Bishop, “I’m gonna head back. If you need anything just, you know, call.”

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing down the hall out of sight. You looked up at Bishop and you could see all the thoughts swirling around behind his eyes, “You owe him an apology of some kind, don’t you?”

He chuckled, lightly kissing your temple, “You sure you’re not concussed or something?”

“You better say sorry when you see him again, Obispo,” you looked up at him.

“Shh,” he smiled, kissing you on the lips, “go back to sleep.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh, “You’re lucky I’ve only got one good arm right now.”

“I’m lucky for that reason and so many more,” he rested his forehead against yours, weight settling back onto his shoulders as he thought about what the gravity of the situation could’ve been, “You’re the strongest fucking person that I know.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against his, “We’re okay, baby,” you reassured him, “We’re safe.”

“Yea,” he placed a tender kiss on your lips, “We’re safe.”

[kingreywrites]

The Smolder Tragedy

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3314

Summary: A very concussed and very out of it Eugene Fitzherbert comes to a devastating conclusion about his smolder. His kidnappers are not all that sympathetic about it.

Note: that title is so corny god asgfdgh anyway, this is a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic, but there’s quite a bit of hurt!! So be warned that there is talk of a concussion, some violence (because he’s kidnapped), and also a mention of spiked water (he’s mostly fine though but I’d rather be safe)

Read on ao3

Now that he was thinking about it, Eugene realised that the smolder never... truly worked on anyone. Well, when he was younger, adults tended to go easier on him if he made a somewhat cute face at them, and in the following years, doing it never hurt his chances with the people who were already attracted to him. But neither of these facts actually attested of the efficiency of the smolder in itself, and if Rapunzel was left particularly unimpressed, Eugene wasn't sure anyone had ever really swooned because of it.

Oh, the demon Rapunzel from the weird mirror dimension did swoon that one time. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

"The hell are you talking about?" someone growled, entering the room loudly and making Eugene's headache worse, if that was even possible.

That guy was one of the reasons Eugene was thinking about his smolder's actual abilities - or lack thereof. Because see, if the smolder worked, which he was now doubting, he could simply use it on this guy, and that would make him swoon, and Eugene would use the distraction to get free from the chair he was tied on, and get out of here quickly. But Eugene didn't think the smolder would work. Not because Mr Beetle here (lovingly named after the bug which landed on his head during Eugene's kidnapping - he'll get to that part later) was immune to his charms, but because maybe... perhaps... the smolder had never been effective?

This was devastating news. Truth really was the heaviest burden a man could bear.

Beetle grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly, making Eugene see stars and forget, for a moment, the whole smolder dilemma. But then he was being yelled at things he could barely understand between the buzzing in his ears and the concussion he got earlier - without forgetting the stuff they made him drink that made his head all fuzzy and his thoughts completely muddled - and he couldn't help but wonder if he could smolder his way out of here. That'd be nice. It had been what, four days since they got their hands on him? Five? Eugene was bored now.

"If-," he coughed, feeling like the hoarse voice he could hear wasn't his own, "if I tried to seduce you, would you break my nose?"

Going by the way his head was slammed back again, Eugene took it as a yes. That was a shame, truly. He knew that his life was different today, that he had changed for the better and was now the Captain of Corona's Guard, so really, he didn't need the smolder - but he loved that silly little trick. It felt like discovering that Santa wasn't real all over again. Not that he ever believed in Santa, since the matrons didn't see fit to talk about that particular tradition when everyone knew that orphans wouldn't get Christmas gifts, but that's what Eugene thought it must feel like.

His head hurt a lot.

A big hand tipped his chin up, since he had been looking at his pants and the stains on them (would he be able to get the blood out?), and he realised that Beetle was trying to make him drink that weird stuff again. The one that made his head feel like it was floating above his shoulders, and made him feel warm in the most disgustingly sweaty way. Eugene hated it. So he kept his lips as tightly closed as he could, and trashed in the chair to make it more difficult on that goon.

This was becoming ridiculous. The fact that he even got kidnapped already hurt enough as it was - they got the best of him after a very exhausting day, and pointed a crossbow at his heart before hitting him so hard over the head he was pretty sure he stayed unconscious for a few hours straight... which Rapunzel would probably think was pretty concerning. For his part, he was more annoyed about the constant headache than anything. Mostly, he couldn't believe he got kidnapped.

He didn't even remember if anyone had seen him, and hoped no one had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. In any case, he was pretty embarrassed and, to add insult to injury, they didn't even care about him. He was Captain of the Guard for god's sake, you'd think that would make him interesting enough, but no, they only wanted him to pressure the royal family.

Being used as leverage sucked. Thinking that they might hurt the people he loved by using him made him feel sick, even more than their weird drugged water did.

"If you keep being difficult you're gonna regret it," Beetle threatened, and Eugene would have told him that he was the one who would regret stuff soon, if he hadn't been also preoccupied with keeping his mouth shut. Which, ironically, was something people had asked of him a lot in his life, and that he had always refused to do - until someone tried to force him to keep it open. He never did like authority, after all. The matrons would always tell him that he was a troublemaker of the worst kind, and that someday, life would get back at him for the chaos he created. They were yet to be proved right about that one but-

Beetle punched him in the gut, making Eugene gasp and cough in pain, before his nose was pinched and he was forced to swallow the water, nearly choking on it.

"Rude," he noted weakly when it was over, his throat on fire as he heaved. Already, he could feel the fuzziness coming back with a vengeance, his vision blurring at the edges because of whatever mysterious compound they forced him to drink. He'd have to ask Varian about it. The kid would know, certainly, or would at least be excited to research it, and it was fun when Varian was excited. He still had that weird maniacal villain vibe mixed with his genuine and adorable love for sciency things, and that was an interesting combination to see in action.

The door to Eugene's cell was slammed shut and, in the dim light, he understood that he was alone once again. Beetle didn't even say goodbye. It was okay, though, because Eugene didn't think he could have answered without puking - the entire world was swimming in front of his eyes. Closing them only made everything even more unsteady, and now Eugene wondered if he could even try to do a good smolder in that state. He couldn’t feel his face.

His eyes were heavy, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

------

Next time Eugene woke up, it was to the sound of yelling outside the door of his cell, loud and definitely not the kind of voices he wanted to hear. Maybe it was stupid, but each time he opened his eyes, he hoped to find Rapunzel here, ready to rescue him, but it hadn't happened… yet.

Trying to raise his head only awakened the ache in his neck and back from the terrible position he was in - he hated sleeping on chairs. Being homeless for a good part of his life had taught him that the bare ground was always preferable, but he didn't think he could argue about his sleeping conditions with his kidnappers. He pulled on the rope that was keeping his hands tied behind his back, and noticed that it was giving a little. If he could just-

"Your plan better work!" someone yelled, startling him - but it was still coming from behind the door. "You don't realise what we're risking with this!"

"Of course it'll work! Do you really think that the son-in-law of the King and the husband of the Princess is worthless? They're gonna listen to us because they'll want him back."

That was… touching, in a strange way. Not that Eugene enjoyed being taken for ransom, or whatever it was they wanted to do, but it did remind him that he had a family, and that they would fight to get him back. Rapunzel was probably worried out of her mind, right now, and this was enough to spur him into action again, because he didn't want to simply wait here for rescue like an idiot.

"What if they attack us?" the scared guy yelled again, as Eugene pulled on his bounds again, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into his skin, and his ever-present nausea. "What if- what if instead of paying, the guards find us and destroy our base?"

In Eugene's opinion, the guards weren't really the threat here - this guy didn't want to know what Rapunzel would do to him if she found them. The thought was enough to make him chuckle, which in turn made him realise that the weird water might still be having an effect on him, because he hadn't managed to keep himself quiet. Not great.

His fingers fumbled with the knot he could feel, trying to get it to loosen even more. Unfortunately, the door of his cell -more like a closet than a cell to be honest- was thrown open, and he had to act as innocent as possible.

Going by the glare he received, he was doing a poor job of it.

The new guy (he'd call him Martin, because he had a Martin face) seemed to enjoy kicking him around a bit more. The only silver lining was that he seemed intent on kicking his ribs, and consequently left his poor head alone. Still not the best, but Eugene would take it. He didn't have much choice anyway, since Martin decided to greet him with his fists today.

"Feeling better yet?" Eugene breathed when he thought it was over. He earned another kick for the trouble.

"You better hope they pay what we ask of them," Martin snarled, way too close for Eugene's comfort. "Because I can't say that I won't enjoy killing you if it comes to that."

"Aww, I'm touched, truly," was all Eugene could say, before a hand ended up around his throat, and he couldn't talk anymore. He vaguely heard Martin threatening him again, but honestly, the guy should realise that it was difficult to be afraid of him when Eugene was barely conscious enough to understand him.

It went down the same way as it always did, these days. Eugene was forced to drink that damned drugged water -it was getting more disgusting each time-, and he couldn't breathe, and the Martin guy said something about hurting Rapunzel, and if you think you're gonna be able to touch her you've got another thing coming you assho-

And Eugene lost consciousness. Again.

------

When he woke up again, Eugene couldn’t breathe. The world was loud, too loud, his vision was swimming and the room spinning under him, and he couldn't- it was as if his breaths were getting stuck in his ribcage, and was he still being choked, what-

"Hey, Eugene, it's okay, look at me-"

Dragging in air painfully, he opened his eyes to a slit, meeting the frantic and oh so green ones of- Rapunzel?

"Come on, it's okay, breathe with me," she said, voice low, and he listened to her - how could he not? For a moment, when it felt like he was still dangerously tethering on the edge of choking, he wondered if she was even real, or if it was all a dream conjured by the lack of oxygen. Then, she brushed his hair back, her palm warm and tangible on his cheek, and it felt real enough that he melted into it.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently, one hand resting lightly on his heaving chest. "That's it, breathe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle at that, but going by the pinch of her eyebrows, that wasn't the right reaction. After a few seconds, when he finally felt like his lungs weren't about to explode, he tried to smile at her. It only seemed to worry her more.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, tracing what he knew were dark bruises on his skin. She went higher, to his hair, and touched something that immediately made him flinch.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" she exclaimed quickly, pushing his hair away again. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

His perceptions were still blurred, as if he was underwater, but he could hear now the sounds of fighting and chaos coming from behind the door. Rescue. He was being rescued - Rapunzel was rescuing him. He knew she would do it.

"Well, I wish I had been a little quicker," Rapunzel said, her voice wobbly.

"You're just in time Sunshine," he whispered, his throat raw.

"Am I?"

He didn't like the self-deprecation in her tone, nor the worry that didn't seem able to leave her features, and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. If he hadn't been kidnapped-

"Eugene? Eugene, stay with me," Rapunzel asked, with an urgency that made him realise he had closed his eyes. Huh. He was dizzy. "I know, I'm sorry, just- I'm gonna free you, okay?"

He blinked, trying to look at her so she would stop sounding so… scared. She was fumbling with the ropes holding his left hand in place. There was the sound of an explosion outside, right as she got rid of the first one, and she threw an indecipherable look at the door.

He wanted… He wanted her to stop looking so sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. Could he do something about it? Well-

"The smolder doesn't work," he mumbled dejectedly. Rapunzel was taking care of his bound legs now, though he didn't remember her freeing his right hand. He moved it slowly, feeling as if the limb wasn't his own, and wondered how much the weird water was still affecting him.

"Weird water?" Rapunzel repeated. He wasn't sure how to not voice all his thoughts aloud, apparently, which he's sure his dad would find amusing.

Since Rapunzel was still looking at him, Eugene took a few seconds to remember her question and simply hummed, head swimming. That seemed to make her even more unhappy, and he could get disliking the water, but he didn't like when Rapunzel was unhappy. "Do you... think the smolder ever, uh... worked?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered, in the same gentle tone she used on people she disagreed with.

"It- it never worked on you, though. And it wouldn't have worked on Beetle, or- or- Martin," he pressed. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and now his feet were free but he really didn't have the energy to try and get up. He didn't want to puke on Rapunzel, too.

She didn't reply. Instead, she looped one of his arms around her neck, and braced her hand against his ribs. He winced, and she apologised quietly, but before he could try to argue that he didn't think he could do it, she made him stand up swiftly, grip tightening around him when his knees inevitably buckled. He closed his eyes tightly, ears ringing painfully and stomach churning, and he was grateful that he could count on Rapunzel to not let him fall on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating, adjusting his weight to stop him from sliding down further. "I know it's hard, but I'll get you to safety, I promise, just hang on-"

Eugene could guess that he really didn't look great if she was that desperate to comfort him. To be fair, he didn't feel great either. He could barely follow her words, couldn't stand up on his own, and had to focus all his energy into not being sick as Rapunzel helped him walk. It clearly wasn't his best day.

He tried to regain his footing, so she didn't have to drag him with her, but his legs were shaky and he nearly fell again. He thought Rapunzel was going to toss him over her shoulder and run, which he knew she could do, and he also knew his body wouldn't appreciate as much as usual given his current dizziness, but that was exactly the moment Maximus arrived to the rescue. Or maybe they arrived to Maximus? There were more people around them, more noises and voices too, and Eugene couldn’t follow anything of what was happening. He thought he heard Lance, and felt another hand holding him up, but all he could focus on was Rapunzel being here, and Rapunzel talking to him, and calling his name, his one beacon of light when the pain in his head grew to be too much to bear.

He felt her hand in his, and realised that he had been laid down somewhere. He wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t do much more but feebly squeeze her fingers, hoping she would understand. And then, because he was tired and in pain, and because he knew that, now that she was here, he was going to be okay, Eugene passed out.

------

“You are evil,” Eugene moaned, hiding his face under his pillow while Rapunzel laughed innocently.

"What, I'm trying to help!" she smiled, coming to sit next to him on the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight, and took a peek at her, groaning again when he saw how smug she seemed. "I even made flyers and everything!"

She didn't seem to care about the annoyed look he threw her way, instead putting a bunch of papers in his hands. On it, his face, lips pursued and eyebrows raised, with the text asking the people of Corona to come test his “infamous smolder” by themselves. At this moment, Eugene would have preferred to have his old wanted posters thrown in his face - it would be way less embarrassing than… this.

“Come on Eugene, what better way to know for certain than to experiment? You seemed really bummed out about your smolder!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he grumbled. “You can’t hold me accountable for my concussed ramblings!”

Her expression softened at that, and her hand came to caress his cheek, gently trailing up to the bandages still around his wound. Her touch was soft enough to not sting, and he couldn’t keep up his facade of annoyance when it was so obvious she simply wanted to make him laugh.

“I love you, you know?” he breathed, and she had a second to look pleasantly surprised before she leant down and kissed him.

“I love you too, Eugene,” she smiled fondly.

“You’re the only person I care to seduce anyway,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll have to live with the smolder being ineffective.”

“If that helps,” she murmured, climbing fully on the bed to lie down next to him, “I feel pretty seduced by you already.”

“Ah yeah?” he grinned. “Well, I’m pretty seduced by you too, Sunshine. You’re my hero after all,” he said, and though he had intended it as a joke, his tone was too earnest to be mistaken as anything but the truth. He could still see glimpses of guilt in Rapunzel’s expression, when he knew she had done everything in her power to find him as quickly as she could - he’d repeat it as much as she needed to finally see it too.

Rapunzel watched him, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together once again. He knew he would need to rest again soon, and that his constant headache would probably spike if he didn’t, but for now, he kissed her back, and it felt like everything was alright again. Because it was, in all the ways that mattered.

She saved him, and they were together - he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

[fallenfurther]

Priority

A continuation of my FabFiveFeb - Virgil (a.k.a A Rescuer’s Sacrifice). Part 1 , 2 , 3 and 4 (In chronological order not posting order). Sorry it’s taken so long to get the next part out. I’ve been tapping this out on my lunch breaks when I’m not reading fic, but it’s been slow going. Finally getting closer to rescuing Virgil! Enjoy!

*******

Scott slung the medical kit he'd just retrieved over his shoulder and started jogging towards his brother's Thunderbird. His uniform was covered in dust and his body was complaining from the various uncomfortable angles it had been put into. He looked up at the green craft before him and steeled himself. He was going to have to be strong for this. John had confirmed Virgil was still stable, but the missing sensor readings were still hovering in the back of his mind. Scott threw the kit on the floor and retrieved another. Another spinal board was placed beside it and Scott grabbed more support struts. They had been useful last time and Scott wanted this done as quickly and efficiently as possible. He was sure Gordon would agree; he wanted away from this industrial site.

Gordon arrived back. Scott noted the lack of hover-stretcher. As before, it was often easier to retrieve the International Rescue branded stretchers later, especially in regions where the ones provided were not up to scratch. Thunderbird Two was well stocked with them and his brother quickly grabbed one. Scott helped to load it up with kit as Gordon darted between various compartments grabbing other things. Gordon always surprised Scott, his easy manner hiding the expert beneath. The ease Gordon had on Two, despite it not being his own, was a marvel. Sure, Scott knew Two as any pilot knows a shared plane, but Gordon knew the pod like Scott knew Thunderbird One. Virgil would be proud of Gordon.

Scott's heart dropped at the thought, his eyes falling on his hands. They shouldn't be in this situation, but Scott was aware of the risks. He tried to shoulder them himself, so many times, to spare his brothers. Taking a deep breath, he raised the stretcher as Gordon stood at its head.

"Let's go get Virgil."

Gordon nodded and led them away from the Thunderbird, following the map John had supplied and was now floating above his wrist. Scott's feet hit the ground in a familiar rhythm that helped to centre his mind, keeping from the thoughts he didn't want to acknowledge. His steps helped him straighten his back. They allowed him to slip back into his Air Force days, where they marched in sync like a well-oiled machine. The Force had changed Scott for the better, its influences he could see in his life in small ways, and in ways he probably couldn't see. Scott was thankful for the training on days like these. Falling back on it, knowing it was ingrained. It had helped him save his colleagues when they were shot down and dying. Now, it was going to help him keep his head as he rescued yet another brother. Scott's gaze landed on the building that held Virgil, its four outer walls still standing. Scott was ready.

"John, what's the structural integrity of the building like?"

John appeared above his wrist, the slightly knitted eyebrows setting off warning alarms in Scott's head.

"It should be stable, though I would have said that before it collapsed on Virgil."

"Great." Scott sighed, just what they needed. "We'll proceed with caution. Any update about Virgil's condition?"

"He's awake and conscious. He is being pinned by metal beams; one having damaged the exosuit in the collapse. Treat him as if he's got a spinal injury."

"FAB."

They pushed the supplies to the entrance where they left them, heading in to scout the area and locate Virgil. A quick hop over the security gates and Scott led them past the elevators towards the middle of the building. He turned a corner, moving in the direction of the small marker on his map. Scott took the next left only to grind to a holt. Gordon slammed into the back of him.

"Hey!"

Scott gazed at the pile of floor and metal beams. Virgil was beneath the unsteady mountain and the idea pained Scott. They had to rescue him. They moved closer, each carefully placing their feet so not to put pressure on anything unstable.

"So, how are we going to move this without hurting Virgil?" Gordon queried, feeling the need to free his big brother, but aware they couldn't rush it.

"Carefully." Scott crouched down and peered under the flooring. Flashing his light around revealed a metal beam. The crash of falling rubble made him jump to attention. His eyes turned to the ceiling, which was a large hole that transcended multiple floors. Movement on one of the floors caught his eye. The movement became a face.

"Hey! Hey, International Rescue?! Help us! We're trapped."

Scott's heart dropped. Those were the people Virgil had gone to rescue, still stuck on the fourth floor. A decision had to be made. Gordon was looking at him expectantly. Their brother or those people. Scott surveyed the fourth floor again. There was no easy access to the floor. Scott sighed and tapped his comm.

"John, the people Virgil was trying to rescue are still trapped on the fourth floor. I'm going to head back to Thunderbird One to get my jetpack. That should be the safest way to get them down. Gordon can start clearing the rubble that's covering Virgil."

"FAB. I’ll relay it to Virgil."

John disappeared. He looked to Gordon who was carefully inspecting the pile. They had no idea where in the mess Virgil was. Scott turned back towards the face that was still peering down.

"I'm going to fetch some equipment." Scott yelled up, "Hold tight. We'll have you down in no time."

Scott turned and jogged from the scene, a small well of guilt in his stomach. Prioritising was always tough, but those people had been waiting long enough for rescue. John had spoken with Virgil, so he must be in a reasonable state. Scott tried to focus on that fact as Thunderbird One came into view. Stepping into his craft, Scott took a deep breath, drawing in comfort from the machine’s familiarity. Thunderbird One was an extension of him and being in her brought some temporary relief. Scott grabbed his jetpack, checked the fuel levels, grabbing an extra canister just in case, before slinging it over his shoulder. It should be able to do what was required easily, but the risks were high. He wasn't going to push their luck any more than necessary. Two brothers were already seriously injured. Leaving Thunderbird One, Scott headed back to the building, a mission to complete.

Gordon had carefully cut a piece of flooring and was starting to shift it when Scott arrived back. Scott hastened over and gave his brother a hand, before flipping out the jetpack controls. Moments later he was hovering level with the fourth floor. Scott cast his eyes over the six people who were huddled in the office. All but one was standing near the back wall where the floor would be strongest. At least they had sense.

"Thank goodness you're here! The other guy disappeared when the floor collapsed."

The man who had been peering down at them was the one who spoke. He seemed the most confident of them, the others all still fearful despite the relief that had crossed their faces when he arrived. Scott slowly hovered over to the wall, carefully setting his feet down on what looked to be sturdy floor.

"I'm going to have to fly you down one by one. Once you are all down, I'll point you in the right direction of the evacuation point."

Scott walked over to a shaking woman and offered her his hand. She gazed into his eyes before placing her hand in his.

"Let's get you out of here."

Scott gave her a smile, before pulling her to her feet. He slipped his hand behind her back, pulling her close. He would have to fly with one controller, but he could do that in his sleep.

"Hold on tight to me. I won't drop you."

The woman wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped up. His arm pulled her closer as her legs wrapped around his waist. Her head rested against his neck.

"Ready?"

He felt the small nod of her head. With a flick of his thumb his feet left the floor and he flew the woman down to ground level. He walked her from the building and stood her next to the hover-stretcher.

"Stay here while I go get the others."

The next four flights went smoothly, the group looking more relaxed with each member joining them on the ground. There were a few hugs when reunited, the stress of the situation forming bonds between them like no corporate training exercise could. The last person to be rescued was the brave man who had peered over the edge. Unlike the others, he walked towards Scott as he came back into sight. Adrenaline started pumping as he saw it happen next in slow motion. The man's foot fell through the weakened floor, which broke away with the force of his falling body. There was always one brave idiot. Scott reacted fast. He dropped with the man, grabbing the belt around his waist before he'd passed the third floor. Pulling up, Scott knew the man would be in pain and discomfort. The floor fell on the pile with a crash. Scott's heart jarred at the thought of Virgil still being below. His grip on the leather tightened at the thought of his brother getting more injuries. A flick of the controls and Scott lowered them to a safe spot on the ground.

"Th-th-thanks." The man stuttered.

"It all part of the job." Scott helped the man up on autopilot, his mind on Virgil.

Scott led the man to the group, glad that all six were now safe. He knew it would make Virgil happy too, to know that they were okay.

"The evacuation point is near the east side car park. Straight that way for three blocks. Take a left. Keep going down that road. It should take you to the evacuation team."

"I know where you mean." One of the women piped up, smiling at him. "Thank you."

They all started to follow the woman apart from the lady who he had rescued first. She was nervously glancing at him and he stayed waiting for her to pluck up the courage to speak.

"The...the other rescuer. Is he okay?"

Scott's heart skipped a beat. The others had forgotten but she had remembered Virgil. He swallowed.

"We are in radio contact with him."

"But is he okay?"

Her face was full of worry. The rest of the group had stopped and were waiting for her.

"He's hurt. We don't know how bad yet."

She read between the lines and nodded. She knew they had come for Virgil only to rescue them first. She knew the sacrifice they had made.

"I wish the best for you and the others. I hope he gets well soon."

"Thank you."

Scott watched as she turned away and joined the group. She turned and waved goodbye. Scott waved back before turning his back in them. He quickly grabbed the hover-stretcher and activated it, pulling it into the building. It was time to save Virgil.

[himbowelsh]

Hi 😊 Would you mind terribly doing the valentine's alphabet for Spina? I could really use some Spina content in my life.

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

Spina’s a hugger. A bear hugger, to be exact. He hugs when he’s happy, hugs when he’s sad, and when trying to cheer someone up, his go-to response is to hug them. Just being around Spina means accepting the risk of getting hugged at some point. Thankfully, he gives good hugs, and also has the sort of presence that just reassures people. Spina’s go-to affection is physical affection, but he’s pretty versatile if a friend needs something else. (This man has stayed up all night with Babe watching bad movies, just because Babe was too upset to go to bed but didn’t want to be left alone.)

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He knows what sorts of bouquets to get for different occasions; when his Grandma was sick in the hospital, he brought her a new bouquet every week, so not only does he know what flowers to choose, but the neighborhood florist knows him. Ralph can get a good deal on a nice arrangement for a birthday or anniversary, but should not be left to grow plants on his own without supervision.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Like...  in it’s casual form, he’s not a fan. Ralph isn’t gonna go buckwild over some Hershey bars. But chocolate cake? Maybe some hot chocolate on a snowy day? Oreos? Completely different story. Ralph isn’t crazy about chocolate, but he really loves chocolate things. (He has tried to do a somersault for a back of Oreos, and it has not gone well. He broke Bill’s mom’s vase and was banned from her home.)

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He...  likes bowling, for some reason. Not only is it a great opportunity to have fun with his partner, he loves the atmosphere, is delighted by the horrible junk food...  and gets to show off, because Ralph is an outstanding bowler. There’s no pressure to bowling; it’s an easy way to have a good time and get to know someone, with plenty of opportunities to goof around.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Ralph Spina was hugged enough as a child, okay? Physical affection isn’t just something he’s cool with, he loves it  ---  so long as it’s coming from someone he knows, not some bearded stranger in a Walmart. As stated before, he gives really great hugs. It’s like...  being hugged by hot chocolate.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Oh no. Nooooo. He is a bad flirter. It’s not even for lack of trying, either; he just tends to come on either too dorky or too friendly. He tries to hit on someone, and next thing he knows they’re having an intense conversation about the person’s recent car troubles. Ralph never leaves bars with new contacts, but he has given out plenty of numbers  ---  for local mechanics, bakers, handymen, etc. He’s just too friendly. You’d think it’d work to his advantage, but it doesn’t. (He does have an arsenal of really corny icebreakers and pick up lines, but he’ll only break those out on special occasions. Dorky.) 

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s more comfortable getting silly gifts than serious ones, cause he always feels like he’s getting something wrong. When he puts his heart into a gift, though, the person he gives it to can’t help appreciating the effort.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s quicker to fall in friend-love than romantic-love. There’s just...  so much more to worry about with romantic love. Honestly, Ralph would do best in a friendship-gradually-turned-romance, because then everything evolves naturally; he’s already with someone who likes him, who he knows and feels comfortable around. Ralph’s heart doesn’t have to be won, he gives it away freely...  but falling in love is a whole other ball game.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Ehh, he’s gushy about it. It’d probably come out by accident the first time, around six months into the relationship  ---   but if his partner reacts well, Ralph takes it as encouragement. He’ll say it a hundred times. A thousand. He loves saying it. He’ll say it to get out of doing something he doesn’t want to do, to make his partner smile, to end a petty argument...  these are three of the most powerful words in the human language, and Ralph tosses them around like silly putty.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Nah, not jealous  ---  he gets insecure. It’s not something he’d be able to ignore, seeing his partner get cozy with someone else. Ralph would take it hard. Instead of being angry at them, he’d internalize it, getting mad at himself. Even if it’s something he knows they should just talk about, he’d avoid the topic with his partner, hating the fact that he’s not enough for them.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

First things first  ---  Ralph doesn’t kiss, he gets kissed. He’s rarely confident enough to make the first move himself, so it usually take someone pulling him in and just laying it on him. At first, he’ll stand shock-still, uncertain what to do...  then he’ll melt into the kiss all at once, pulling his partner close as he realizes exactly what’s going on. Ralph isn’t an adventurous kisser at first, but gets more playful as time goes on. He likes tiny love nips, getting his partner to giggle, and he loves it if they can sit on his lap, so he can wrap his hands around their waist while kissing them. He’s not demanding; he’ll gladly accept whatever kisses his partner gives him.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

The answer really should be family first, but Ralph’s honestly closer to his friends. His parents disagree with a few of his life choices, so, much as he loves them, it’s his buddies he goes to for emotional support. Babe and Bill are great for a night out, Gene and Renee are great for a night in, Julian’s...  well, Julian’s great if you want your night to end with a small fire or a trip to the emergency room, but he’s also great in general. Ralph loves lots of people, but he could go on for ages about his friends.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

No...  no getting up in the morning. Whoever invented mornings had a vendetta against sleep, and Ralph ain’t about to humor them. Sleeping in while snuggled up against a partner is plenty romantic, thanks, and there’s always time to do more later on in the day.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

You gotta understand, Ralph gets into his own head a lot. He’s a little self-conscious, so it’s easy to overthink what he’s doing; he doubts himself. He’s got a couple of kinks he’s really eager to try out (really into voyeurism/pushing his luck in unconventional places) but his partner’s comfort is foremost for him. He’ll check on them multiple times, asking how they’re doing. If his partner’s smiling or laughing a bit during the act, Ralph is more confident  ---  having them too serious just makes him nervous. He’s not too confident in his own body, so being complimented during the act would make him melt. He keeps up a steady rhythm, and is surprisingly good at holding out for a long time  ---  until he’s at least pushed his partner over the edge.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

On the contrary. When he likes someone, he can get tongue-tied to all hell. A crush once thought he was choking on a piece of shrimp; he was just trying to ask her out.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Someone who isn’t high-strung   ----  laid back and able to go with the flow, taking some time just to enjoy life. Ralph would need a partner who gets along with people as easily as he does, probably an extrovert; someone with a sense of humor; a great storyteller; somebody fun. He really needs someone to laugh and be goofy with, but also someone who can be serious in a crisis. They’ve got to have

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He would absolutely be willing to ask  (unless his partner beat him to the punch). Ralph’s big thing, though, it that he wants a proposal to remember  ---  it’s gotta be good for his partner, cause that’s what they deserve, right? So he’d agonize over picking the right ring, probably cycling through a dozen or so choices before a very annoyed jeweler convinces him to buy something. Then he’d have to practice the proposal a dozen times, planning out different ways to do it...  which is all great, until his partner walks in to find him kneeling in front of the bedroom mirror with a ring out, proposing to his own reflection. That takes some explaining...  but in the end, everything works out.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a romantic cheeseball heart, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid about it. Ralph’s been burned before. He knows love can hurt, and only idiots rush into it without being prepared. He wants to be the romantic flowers-and-candles guy, and in a relationship he will be, but if it blows up in his face he’ll end up blaming himself for doing something wrong.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He spent several years head-over-heels in love with Nancy Drew. His older sister was a fan of the books, and Ralph was a fan of the pictures on the covers. Swore he was going to marry Nancy when he grew up and everything. No one knew how to break it to him  ---  he had to figure out what fiction meant on his own.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Ralph’s seen it firsthand, growing up with his parents.  If couples exist with the audacity to swap spit while their kids are in the room, yeah, true love’s gotta be out there somewhere.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

He’s had a few instances of liking someone hard, when they just didn’t feel the same way. Ralph didn’t resent them for it, and he tried not to dwell, but it still stung, man.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

As a kid, it was always an excuse for his parents to have a night out, while the Spina kids got to stay home, watch crappy movies, and eat too much chocolate. As an adult...  it’s an excuse to stay in, watch crappy movies, and eat too much chocolate. He loves Valentine’s Day.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Sure! He likes the idea, but wouldn’t be devastated if his partner didn’t want it. To Ralph, it’s more important to just be with them, not to put a legal ring on it.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Absolutely, but he hardly ever uses them seriously. “Honeybuns”, “sugar plum”, “babydumpling”...  they’re all designed to get his partner to turn an alarming shade of red in public. Even if they occasionally get him smacked on the shoulder, it’s worth it. He just can’t take pet names seriously.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

He’s a lover, not a fighter...  but Spina loves hard. If someone he cares about is in trouble, he’s not afraid to step in  ---  and usually has his buddies behind him to back him up. His buddies, all substantially better fighters than he is, and perfectly willing to throw the first punch. Spina’s flavor of protectiveness is all about the folks at his back, but he won’t let anyone mess around with people he loves.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

He wishes the number were higher. Maybe about...  4 - 5? Ralph is no master seducer, but if someone comes onto him, he’s not about to say no.

[trashfor-imagines]

If There’s Light There’s Hope | 1

Bakugou x Fem!Reader (BNHA)

Summary: U.A. High School was your dream. You wanted to save people. You never expected how wild your journey would be and you certainly never expected a hot headed boy to play as large of a role as he would. Warnings: Swearing

Reader’s Quirk: Celebration - reader can absorb energy from light sources and create explosions that look like fireworks. Overusing this power can cause heat exhaustion or sometimes heat stroke.

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7]

-

Getting into U.A. was a dream come true. You were originally placed in General Education, Class 1-C. Your performance during the entrance exams was a mixed bag. You had aced the written exam, but your performance during the practical wasn’t as high as you wanted. Luckily for you there was opportunity to move into the Hero Department - so long as you proved yourself.

The U.A. Sports Festival was your moment to shine and you did just that. Hesitation and overthinking had been your downfall during the entrance exams. With the right Hero recommendation, you could get back on track to becoming a Pro-Hero. You managed to make it to the Battle Tournament where you had your first real interaction with the hot tempered student you had seen throughout the day, Bakugou Katsuki of 1-A.

In fact, he was your first opponent and you were determined to win, however you were quickly knocked out of there by a large explosion created by the two of you that sent you flying into the stands. Quickly thinking on your feet, you did what it took to avoid hurting any of the festival spectators, using your quirk to redirect your body’s projection. You weren’t going to be able to stop your body, but you could change where you’d make impact.

Thankfully, you’d been saved by Endeavor of all heroes. He caught you with ease before you hit the staircase, an annoyed expression on his face. He certainly wasn’t going to allow All Might to save you; he’d seen the Number One Hero start to make his move. This also meant you were officially out of bounds. It was the serious expression you wore that caused Endeavor to share these words with you. You still had the will to keep fighting within you.

“Remember this moment and keep that fire burning within you. If your fight had been outside of this fishbowl, you’d still have your chance. There are no boundaries in the real world.”

He was right. When he put you down, you bowed deeply, thanking him for being a hero you could aspire to be.

“Thank you, Endeavor. I promise to continue fighting and make it into the Hero Department; that way I can work to become a Pro-Hero like you.”

Two days later you received a letter waiting for you at home.

Dear (L/N) (F/N),

It is with great pleasure that we inform you it is due to high recommendation of your recent performance at the U.A. Sports Festival that you have been accepted into the Department of Heroes at U.A. High School beginning Monday...

You didn’t need to read the rest! This was it.

The first person you called was Hitoshi. He managed to become not just a friend from junior high, but your best friend, and there was no way you wanted him to find out any other way. Despite the risk of him being jealous, you knew it was the best. His response actually surprised you.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), I’m right behind you. I’ll join the Hero Department soon enough, just watch.”

Monday came soon enough and you were sure to make it to class early. Your instructions were to wait outside of the faculty room for your new homeroom teacher. You expected Vlad King from 1-B, but when he simply gave you a smile that morning and walked off, you realized with great shock which class you had made it into.

You stood with a calm and even demeanor in front of the class; inside you were racked with nerves. The boy who beat you in the Battle Tournament, Bakugou, sat staring out the window, his chin propped up by his hand, disinterested in you. Eraserhead introduced you unenthusiastically.

“You may recognize (Y/N) from the sports festival. She was in class 1-C, but has been invited to join 1-A,” he said simply to them. He turned to you. “Go ahead and introduce yourself. You can have a seat behind Miss Yaoyorozu in the back.”

Taking a step forward, you bowed and spoke, your voice gentle yet firm. “Good morning everyone. I’m (Y/N) and I'm thankful to be in your class. Let’s get along.”

As you walked to your seat, you felt a chill run down your spine. Bakugou’s eyes had quickly snapped to the side glowering at you. You avoided eye contact with anyone else and quickly took your seat, doing your best to focus on Eraserhead.

He shared the class’s tally of nominations from Pro-Heroes and you were excited to see that you had done quite well with 416 nominations. Apparently you had been impressive to many heroes with how you managed to divert your point of impact during your Battle Tournament match. Being conscious of your surroundings and quick to think on your feet wasn’t something to brush off; apparently not everyone had the capability to be aware. He continued on about getting work-place experience and explained that we’d be deciding on our hero names with Midnight to which several students cheered in excitement.

When Midnight arrived, you were immediately filled with dread, realizing you had to present your name to everyone.

“Jubilee.” You stood in front of the class, doing your best to hide your discomfort under their gazes.

“Interesting! Now tell me why.” Midnight hummed thoughtfully at your name.

“Because of my quirk. I can...” you trailed off deciding not to explain and instead showing them an example. “If you’ll turn off the light please?” Midnight flipped the classroom’s light switch, dimming the room; the only light streaming in from window. Reaching outward toward the classroom windows, you made a single grasping motion with your hand. Your hand faintly glowed and with a simple motion, opened your hand and a small light shot up, exploding just above your head, like a golden firework. There were hushed aww’s from your new classmates as the lights came back on. “My quirk looks like fireworks at night and who doesn’t like a celebration?”

With Midnight’s approval, you gave a bow and returned to your seat.

The rest of the day seem to pass quickly after that. You’d gotten a list of agencies to choose from for your work-place internships. The Endeavor Hero Agency. It brought tears to your eyes as you stared at the name. Had Endeavor really drafted you? You guessed being blasted into the air and then caught by the man would leave a lasting impression. Your decision was easy and you quickly turned in your choice along with several other students.

Lunch time came around and you were thankful. The content some of their classes consisted of were just topics the General Education Department touched upon. It was going to be hard to keep up for a while, but you knew you could do it. Your gaze wandered over your classmates, subconsciously analyzing them and their behaviors.

A fuzzy pink girl bounded up to you as you grabbed your bento and made your way to leave the classroom. “(Y/N) why don’t you come have lunch with us?”

You were touched, your hand finding its way over your heart. “Thank you, but maybe tomorrow.”

Bowing politely, you quickly made off to meet Hitoshi in the courtyard where he sat under a tree waiting patiently for you. He gave a lazy wave and began digging into his lunch, chatting about your individual mornings. You went into depth about what Hitoshi would need to focus on for when he finally made his way into the Hero Department. He soaked this information up, taking what you had to say seriously. Despite his proclamations that other students were simply obstacles, you knew the truth behind your friendship which made you value it more. You’d known him since junior high after all. Soon the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

“Hitoshi, I’m expecting you to join me soon, okay?” You smiled at him warmly to which he returned the expression.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful and classes were over. Iida asked that you stay behind to help with cleaning the classroom, to which you complied by cleaning the windows. You recognized the few others helping, having picked up on their names throughout the day. Kaminari and Kirishima were sweeping the floor while Hagakure and Ashido were wiping down surfaces. Then there was Bakugou who was also on window cleaning duty. Pausing briefly, you observed the brute for a moment. Looking away before you could get caught staring, you quickly finished up and left.

You had just made it past the walls of the school when a rough voice echoed out from behind you. Stopping in your tracks, you refused to look back, your grip on your backpack tightening.

“What the hell do you want? Stop fucking staring at me in class would you!” his voice aggressive and angry.

Turning around you looked him dead in the eye, catching a look of surprise as it flashed over his face. “I’m going to beat you. One day soon, Bakugou. There aren’t boundaries in the real world.”

Life after that day seemed to accelerate. You barely spoke to Bakugou after that encounter. Slowly, you got to know your other classmates and found most of them to be quite pleasant and tolerable. Your internships seemed to fly by. You had gotten to know Todoroki as he also chose his father’s agency and found you enjoyed his calm and silent demeanor.

The night Stain had been captured, you had gone on patrol with Endeavor and Todoroki. You listened and stayed with Endeavor while his son ran off to help Midoriya. After Endeavor and Gran Torino defeated the Nomu, you were given instructions to stay with the sidekicks and learn something from them, leaving you behind. After the events of that night, Endeavor had you participate in filling out incident paperwork with his sidekicks where you learned Todoroki had to be hospitalized. You made sure to visit him in the hospital during your lunch break the next day. The rest of the internship went by uneventfully, thank goodness.

Soon it was final exams and then you were off to quirk training camp.

[kagebros]

Aware (Optimus Prime x Reader)

Summary: You can handle yourself pretty well in situations but this one just happens to be an unlucky one, where you’re captured by the Decepticons. Optimus and the Autobots have to come save you but it leaves both you and Optimus a little shaken in the aftermath.  Warnings: Violence, Self Harm? Word Count: 3527

Tags: N/A (DM me if you’d like to be tagged!)

"Are you sure you will be alright?" Optimus asks you, for potentially the 8th time this month. You had accidentally met the Autobots when you were on your way home from work one day, having taken the graveyard shift and leaving when it was still dark when you fell asleep at the horn and crashed into an Autobot. It definitely was a wakeup call and now you were stuck with being given a guardian.

Problem was, you were a fully grown adult and being treated like that made you a little unhappy. After all, it made sense if the children were being babysat but you weren't all for that due to your age. The one called Optimus grew increasingly concerned over your wellbeing, often asking you whether or not you needed a guardian and that the option was always open. You knew Ratchet wasn't exactly open to being put on babysitting duty and Optimus wouldn't have been the best choice, with how busy he always was and the fact he was the leader of the Autobots. They needed him here. Not babysitting a grown adult.

"Yes, Optimus, I assure you I'll be fine," you replied evenly. "I'm just going home, I doubt any Decepticon is gonna jump me," you said. Optimus let out a worried hum and stood back up to go back to his work. You let out a quiet sigh when Optimus walked away. Why he was so protective and worried over you was something you have been wondering for the past few months. You had to admit you had a crush on the guy. But you couldn't say anything since, well first you were a guy and romantic attraction on Cybertron's planet was something you weren't familiar with. That and the fact you were a HUMAN and he most definitely was not. You put on your helmet and got on your motorcycle, it was a red sport motorcycle you had owned for many years and you were very attached to it. Revving the engine for a bit, Ratchet opened the gate and you sped through, waving goodbye for a quick second before looking ahead. The sunset off to the side was beautiful as always so you decided to go on a little detour instead just to enjoy your sweet time. After making a fair amount of distance to the next town essentially, your eye caught on a car beginning to tail you. Dropping your head just for a moment out of annoyance, you drove into the town, hoping to cut whoever was tailing you off. Your eye caught on an abandoned warehouse and you took a sharp left, entering the warehouse and stopping in there for a quick moment. Your engine stood idle before you heard a car drive in with a loud vroom. You let out an annoyed grunt before catching on a ramp up to the next level of the warehouse. You sped around the car in a circle to try and confuse it before driving up the ramp.

"C'mon c'mon there's gotta be a way out," you said to yourself. You then saw an open window and revved your engine. Someone must have turned it into a stunt place out of boredom, given the small ramp leading out of the window. You sped up, jumping off the ramp and seeing the end of it at ground level. During mid air though, something hit you, knocking you off your bike and throwing you to the ground, your head impacting against the pavement, immediately knocking you out.

You awoke to your hands being in chains, your body hanging a few feet above the ground. You looked around frantically but stayed quiet. The doors opened and a familiar face 'graced' your presence.

"Airachnid," you growled through gritted teeth.

"Hello, (y/n), nice to see you again," Airachnid smiled.

"What do you want," you snapped.

"Oh, you know. Lord Megatron has specifically requested that I-" Airachnid was cut off as the door opened with a release of air. Megatron stepped through, Airachnid stepping off to the side and bowing. "Lord Megatron, I," Airachnid looked for an excuse but couldn't find one.

"Silence, Airachnid, going behind my back other times may be excused but not this time," Megatron snapped. His optics then landed on you and you glared at him. "So you've managed to capture the little bug, good," he said.

"Naturally, Breakdown needed my help," Airachnid bragged. "Without my web, they would have gotten away," she said, looking over towards you with a sadistic grin.

"Get squished," you spat towards Airachnid.

"A fiery temper this human has," Megatron commented before stepping forward and gripping your torso tightly. You struggled to breathe and his red optics flared for a moment, taking amusement in your pain. You let out a strangled breath and he let you go, taking in a deep breath, heaving your lungs. "Set up the camera, I want to send a little message to our friends of ours," Megatron ordered.

"I'll get Soundwave, Lord Megatron," Airachnid said before leaving the room. Once she left, you looked towards Megatron with absolute hatred and anger.

"If you're trying to get the location of the Autobots base out of me, you're out of luck," you hissed. Megatron gave a low laugh and pulled you forward with his servos.

"That's too bad, if you had given the location to us we would have let you go," Megatron lied. You spat in his face and he recoiled for a moment before anger overtook him. "So the bug fights back even in the web," Megatron said, squeezing your body once again, harder this time to where you knew there were going to be bruises on your ribs. He let you go and you panted, head dropping down from the pain. "We'll get the location out of you, worm. Sooner or later, you'll crack." A release of air enacted from the door as Soundwave entered. "Soundwave," Megatron smiled. "Send a message to Optimus Prime and his Autobots," he said. "We have his pet."

"Incoming message from... Megatron?" Ratchet announced.

"Play the message," Optimus ordered. Ratchet put it on the screen and was shocked to see you in there. Optimus' optics widened when they immediately landed on you in the background.

"Hello, Optimus," Megatron said, a wicked smile on his face. "I believe I have something that belongs to you," he motioned towards you, the camera zooming in. There were cuts all over your face, as if Megatron had been tracing his claw all over various spots to make you bleed. You were breathing shallowly before looking up towards Soundwave.

"Guess I'm not fine, Optimus," you laughed weakly.

"Come and get them, Optimus," Megatron said. "I'll keep them... good company while they're here, but I have to say. You better come find them quickly unless you want to see your pet perish at the hands of me." He shot a servos towards you and pinched your head together with his digits like he was holding a grape. Your head was held up and finally the feeling of fear filled your core as you looked towards Soundwave. The connection was cut off and Optimus stepped back for a moment, trying to process what was happening. He had to keep his composure but the worry he had in his chassis was spilling out and all the Autobots were noticing it. He didn't say anything until Ratchet got his attention by placing a servos on his shoulder.

"We'll get them back, Optimus," Ratchet assured.

"Have you got a location on where (y/n) is?" Optimus asked.

"The signal from their helmet is still being sent, as long as the tracker is intact within it, we'll be able to find (y/n)," Ratchet replied. Optimus let his shoulders fall out of slight relief. "Opening the ground bridge now," he said, pulling the lever down.

"Autobots, roll out," Optimus said with fervor. No matter what he was going to get you back, even if it meant risking his own life.

You could barely see what was going on in front of you. The constant questioning of where the Autobot's base was soon becoming background noise and you simply hung there, head dropped down out of exhaustion, blood dripping from the cuts on your face. A loud bang came from Megatron as he slammed his arm on the metal wall, snapping your head up as he got your attention.

"Let me ask this ONE more time," Megatron hissed. "Where is the Autobot base located?!"

"I'll... never... betray my family like that," you said quietly, through gritted teeth.

"Then your usefulness to me has run out," Megatron said in a low voice. "Unfortunate for you, of course." He then reached a servos towards you before an energy blast shot him away from you. Bright lights filled your eyes as you snapped your head towards the doorway, where Optimus was standing, his mouthplate on and cannon out towards Megatron. His optics were full of anger but once they landed on you, his gaze softened. "So, Optimus, you finally came for your pet and we were having such a good time too, the red on their face looks so pretty," Megatron said, getting up from his kneeling position. Optimus soon lost his cool and charged towards Megatron, tackling him down and punching Megatron with as much force as possible. You could tell how angry Optimus, especially when he pointed his cannon straight at Megatron's face. Megatron only let out a laugh as he looked at Optimus. "Go ahead, finish it," Megatron coaxed. The anger that controlled Optimus earlier soon went away and he got off of Megatron, standing up.

"No," Optimus said. He put his cannon away and instead ripped off a piece of metal from the wall and drove it through Megatron's shoulder, a pained grunt coming from him as he was pinned to the ground. Optimus turned away and approached you, taking the cuffs off and taking your weak body into his servos. "Let's go home, (y/n)," Optimus said softly, taking you out of the cell and leaving Megatron in the room. "I have (y/n), Autobots, fall back," Optimus communicated. You were having trouble staying conscious as Optimus carried you in his servos. Soon you passed out in his servos out of exhaustion.

"(y/n)? (y/n)!" June's voice echoed. You blinked blearily as a friendly face came into view. "Oh, thank god you came to."

"Did I pass out again?" you said trying to sit up. You clutched at your chest and June pushed you gently down back on the bed.

"Easy now, your chest looks like it's been through a lot," June said. You looked at yourself now and realised you were shirtless. Bruises from Megatron's servos were heavily imprinted on your chest, you still felt like your ribs were on fire and it hurt to breathe. You sat up anyway, ignoring June's protests.

"Where, where's Optimus?" you asked. You clutched your side and looked around.

"He hasn't come out of his berthroom since you got here," Arcee replied. "Seeing you like that really shook him up, we were all worried. And hey," she said, gesturing to your motorcycle. "We managed to get this back too, Ratchet fixed it up for you while you were asleep." You slid your legs to the side of the bed and stood up.

"You're not leaving the base, if that's what you're doing," June scolded.

"I'm not," you said quietly. "I just need to be alone for a bit." You walked off towards the hall, where June, Miko, Raf and Jack looked towards each other with worry.

"Are they going to be alright?" Raf asked.

"They will be. They just need to be alone for a bit," June assured. "What they've been through is something that shouldn't have happened."

You entered the training room you had set up a while ago for you and the kids. It was a way to stay alert and vigilant while knowing how to fight. As you passed by the punching bag, you punched it before stopping in front of it. You were angry at yourself. Incredibly angry. The fact you let yourself get caught when you had been telling Optimus the exact opposite made you feel weak and worthless. Out of anger you punched the punching bag. Then again, and again, and again. You didn't care if your knuckles began to bleed as you punched it, it was just another way to punish yourself. For failing Optimus and putting the other's in danger over your careless act. You let out a yell as you then gave the punching bag a roundhouse kick, catching the bag's recoil and slumping down into a kneeling position, panting from the exertion. This time sadness overcame you and you slammed a fist down onto the concrete floor, crying out. Hot, angry tears flowed down your cheeks as you bit back a sob. Your head hung down as you slammed the floor multiple times, trying to cry it out. After letting it out and taking a few deep breaths, you sat up, exhaling shakily and standing up.

You looked at your knuckles which were now bloodied, dried blood caked on the skin and you moved your hand for just a moment and hissed with pain. With a loud sigh, you go over to the first aid table you had set up for everyone in case they got hurt during sparring sessions and began to wrap your hands with the available bandaging. After flipping your hand back and forth to examine the handiwork, you exited the training room. When you passed by June and the kids, you got on your motorcycle and turned it on. June stood up to try to stop you but you looked at her softly.

"I'm going on a quick ride, I'll be back soon," you said gently. With that you left the base, taking it easy on the motorcycle. You were surprised to see it was night time but it made sense, it felt like hours you were stuck in that godawful cell with Megatron. A soft smile grows on your face as you get off the road and begin riding up the giant rock formation. It was a place you used to come to as a kid whenever you needed time to yourself or get away from it all. You got off of your bike and walked all the way near the edge, sitting down and looking off in the distance as you hugged your legs close to you. You sat in silence for a while until you heard loud footsteps behind you. You turned to see Optimus approaching you.

Optimus, having confined himself to his berthroom, didn't realise you were awake until Ratchet knocked on the door, telling him that you recovered quite well. When Optimus asked if he could see you, Ratchet said right now wasn't the best time.

"They're in the training room if you want to see them," Ratchet informed. "But the way they left the room earlier, it's probably best we leave them alone." Optimus nodded and Ratchet left his room but something at at him that made him want to see you. Flashbacks earlier from today kept playing through his mind like a movie, seeing your face cut up from Megatron's claws, face bloodied to the point he wouldn't have been able to recognise you, and the fact that Megatron was really willing to kill you. If Optimus had lost you, he wouldn't have known what to do. In a burst of emotion, he got off the computer, paused his work, and exited his berthroom, walking down the hallway to go find you. He drew near the training room to hear you grunting. He decided against going in and instead watched you from the doorway, watching you pummel the punching bag in bursts of anger. When he heard you let out a yell and watched you kick the punching bag with a powerful kick, he drew back further, about to leave. Until you dropped to the floor and slammed a fist on the ground, hanging your head down as you cried. You were never open to being vulnerable so Optimus seeing this was something he knew he shouldn't have seen. He wanted to comfort you with all his heart but he instead stepped back and left, worried he might overstep and even betray your trust for watching you be so vulnerable.

When you left the base, Optimus entered the common area to see June and the children looking towards the tunnel with worry.

"You all should be home right now," Optimus said. "I'll go after them, do not worry." With that he turned into his altmode and drove out to follow you.

"May I join you?" Optimus asked you softly. You patted the spot next to you and he walked over to sit down beside you. The two of you sat in silence for a while before you spoke up.

"I'm really sorry about last night," you said. Guilt welled up in your chest as you said those words, a frown on your face as you rested your chin on top of your knees, hugging your legs closer to yourself. "What happened back there, I... I just felt so useless and weak," you murmured.

"What you did was your best to get away from them," Optimus said. "You were outnumbered and you did everything you could to evade them, this is something you should not be apologising for." You stayed silent for a moment, taking in what Optimus said to you. That near death experience though made you realise you needed to tell Optimus. At least... let him know how you really felt, especially the likelihood of dying wasn't going to get any lower.

"Optimus, I... I need to tell you something," you stated, eyes fixed on the horizon in front of you. His optics landed on you and watched you fumble with your words. "After... after what I experienced today, almost dying, if you hadn't been there to save me I'd be," you pause for a moment in attempt to swallow down your fear, but you're unable to finish the sentence. "I just. I need you to know this at least, because maybe I'll never get the chance to say it." You take a deep breath and let go of your legs, sitting up straighter. "I have feelings for you." Optimus doesn't answer for a moment and you feel your heart sink just a little bit. You knew this was folly in the first place. But you needed to let him know.

"I know," Optimus finally replied. You look up towards him with a bewildered expression to where he lets out a soft chuckle. "Your actions and feelings towards me do not go unnoticed, (y/n)," he said. "But your feelings do not go unreciprocated either." You blinked for a moment and felt your face heat up. He gives you a smile and you begin to think you look like a tomato right now. "Seeing you today like that... made me realise I needed you more than ever. And that I would be willing to do anything to protect you."

"I didn't think you'd feel the same," you said. "I... I still remember when you punched Ratchet in front of all of us, Optimus... when he was speaking about Elita One and..." you trailed off. You watched him tense for a moment as the memories were brought up and his optics look wistful for just a moment. "She still means a lot to you after all this time, doesn't she?"

"Time heals all wounds, (y/n)," Optimus replied. "But the physical wounds are the ones to heal the fastest." You give a light laugh.

"They never tell you about the scars it leaves," you said, looking up to him now with a sad smile. He gives a hum in understanding and you climb onto his leg, where Optimus offers his servos and you climb on, sitting on your knees as you faced him. After a moment of silence of just looking into his optics, you spoke up. "Can I try something?" you asked gently.

"What is it?" Optimus replied, the gaze he held towards you full of affection. You leaned forward and kissed Optimus, feeling cold metal that was quickly replaced with warmth underneath. Optimus shut his optics and kissed back, trying to be gentle as possible so as to not push you off his servos. You pulled away when you needed air and Optimus opened his optics to look at you once again. A warm smile grows on his face and he raises his servos to trace your cheek with a digit. He set you down with his servos and you nuzzled up to him, leaning onto his warm frame. "If you're still willing, I'd like to be your guardian," Optimus asked quietly. You hummed in response as you thought about it.

"I should have said yes in the very beginning," you replied. A smile graced Optimus' lips and while you didn't look up, you knew he was smiling.

[bryonysimcox]

Life on the Road: Week 1, France

A week ago we had just reached French shores and stayed the night near the Belgium border. Now, over a thousand kilometres later, I look back at life on the road in Suzi the HiAce.

The days before we left England, I was filled with nerves. A weird sort of apprehension-excitement-fear combo descended on me, especially as George left me alone for a day whilst he headed up to Manchester to do a last-minute video shoot. Then, Monday morning finally came and I was so glad we were ready to leave, given that my mind had been running in circles in the days prior.

Even if we had forgotten things, not planned for certain eventualities, I was ready to go and to start our long-awaited trip.

The drive to Dover was somewhat uneventful, punctuated by a welcome visit at my Aunt’s house in Ashford, and a lovely meal, sharing stories of places travelled and frantically jotting notes down from my knowledgeable relatives about the best routes to take (and tolls to avoid!) in France. We arrived at the ferry terminal with ages to spare, an unusual departure from George and my usual tendency to leave everything to the last minute. Once on French soil, we really enjoyed taking in the surroundings of the north coast. Although an altogether flat and industrial area, Dunkirk and the neighbouring villages were peppered with characterful qualities: the ‘Gilets Jaunes’ hosting small road-side bonfires, faded signage painted on brick facades, and unusual Flemish-style housing with tiled roofs and shuttered windows. We started to search online for the history of places we saw and towns we passed through, often discovering impressive stories from both the world wars of soldiers’ resistance and the resilience of ordinary local folk. This activity of reading a place’s Wikipedia page as evening entertainment has become a bit of a habit!

(images, left to right) Exploring the streets of Dunkirk, a much-needed celebratory champagne/beer on the ferry from Dover, and me outside Suzi on our drive to Paris.

En route to Paris, we risked the tolls and experienced the aggression of French drivers when they get stuck behind a 25-year old fully-laden campervan. Tolls are something we’re generally going to avoid; whilst they save you time, we’d rather save the money and enjoy the more scenic routes. But in this instance, we got to France’s capital nice and quickly, and found free showers at the roadside services as a bonus.

The two and a half days we spent in Paris were just perfect: we kept things slow and cheap rather than trying to see and do everything.

Based on advice from other vanlifers, we opted to park up in a suburb on the outskirts of the city and catch the train each day. Despite protests from railway workers and closed train lines making headline news whilst we were there, the line we took seemed unaffected and it worked out brilliantly - we would pop up at the station outside Notre Dame, and each day take in the sights of the city by foot. Road closures left streets feeling calm and quiet, combined with the fact that the freezing cold temperatures were keeping the crowds away!

Generally, we mooched around the Quartier Latin and the student areas, centred on the Pantheon and Rue Mouffetard, the city’s oldest street. I was impressed to see sustainable, human-centred initiatives across the city, no-doubt linked to the forward-thinking stance of Paris’ mayor, Anne Hidalgo (a renowned figure in urban design circles). There were lots of bicycles, generous pedestrian spaces, electric car charging stations and even billboards announcing the city’s ‘participatory budgeting’ scheme, although the lack of green spaces and trees was apparent too.

(images, left to right) Filming in Le Jardin du Luxembourg, wandering along the Seine, and escaping from the cold in a super-cool Parisien cafe.

We were lucky enough to catch up with friends and family in Paris, which made the big city feel warm and welcoming.

On the first night, a girl who I had met back in Sydney when we both volunteered at a not-for-profit restaurant met up with us and showed us the local’s perspective into the best inner-city spots for wandering and socialising. On Thursday, what began as George randomly spotting that an old bandmate of his was also in Paris, resulted in a couple of beers that evening with him and his girlfriend. And the next day, we were able to see one of my cousins, along with his wife and newborn baby, in their apartment in the 11th arrondissement. These encounters were so enjoyable, and were a powerful reminder that it will be the people we see and spend time with along this trip that define it.

Sad to leave but ready for the next step, we left Paris in the knowledge that life admin was on the cards. We wanted to get a gas refill for our spare gas bottle so that when we run out on our first tank in some middle-of-nowhere location, we don’t have to eat cold spaghetti! After a few delightful days of being tourists in Paris, including filming our first episode of ‘Place Portraits’ about film photography through our documentary channel Broaden, spending a tireless day looking for the right gas refill felt like a fall from grace.

We quickly learned that all the little things like gas, electricity and water can take up a lot of time when you’re living in a van and you’re in a foreign country. 

Eventually laden with a new (albeit pricey) bottle of gas, we headed out towards the countryside to find somewhere to stay for the night. We didn’t get that far, and stopped in the town of Fontainbleu - renowned for its historic connections to French royalty (also worth checking out the Wikipedia page). We found our parking spot through the fantastic app ‘Park4Night’, and this location reaffirmed just how awesome the app can be, as it led us to a space literally outside the gates to Fontainbleu Castle! 

(images, left to right) A morning run around Fontainbleu Castle, a very excitable me after said run, and our epic camping spot outside the castle gates.

One of mine and George’s priorities has been to squeeze in exercise along the journey. Staying active is not only important to the two of us, but essential when you’re often sitting still in a van for long distances. The only thing getting in the way of doing lots of exercise is the fact that we don’t have a shower (though we’re looking into a small one with submersible pump and would love recommendations from folks who have used them before). Nonetheless, we did a 5K run around the eery castle grounds at Fontainbleu, and I’ve tailored a workout with the NikeTraining app that I can just about do lying in the van. As for the washing situation, well it’s either boiling a kettle and doing a face-cloth shower, or heading to public swimming pools (as we did in Lyon) and making use of the facilities whilst squeezing a swim in as well.

With dreams of snow, we spent two days headed south-east, through Lyon, towards the Alps. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bit of a half-baked plan and we eventually decided to give up on the idea. 

We had gotten quite close to the Alps before we decided it wasn’t worth it. We’d been tracking slower than expected, and had generally realised that Suzi can’t just whizz up hilly roads as we’d like. Given that we also had no plans to ski (and were just headed there for the views and hikes), it felt like a huge commitment for not all that much reward. It was a frustrating decision, but a good first experience in the reality of trip-planning and timing.

Almost a week in, and it felt like we’d hit our first slump: giving up on the Alps and generally being aware that Suzi is an old van with a somewhat unreliable engine. Although we’ve had no issues with her so far, other than underwhelming fuel efficiency, George is conscious that we may have worn piston rings. The piston rings are something that could cause us issues in the future, so we’re closely monitoring them for now and on the look-out for a reliable garage in South France/Spain that may be able to have a look at them and give us an idea of what repairs may cost.

(images, left to right) Emptying the wastewater tank and filling up on fresh water at an ‘Aire du Camping-Car’, stocking up on much-needed bread and cheese, and editing footage inside the van in true hot-desking style! 

Changing the plan and re-diverting west turned out to be a real positive. We ventured along some alpine roads through the stunning scenery of the Parc Natural Regional Livradois-Forez and ended the first week on a high - parked up in the middle of nowhere safe and sound in the van.

That evening, we ate fresh baguette with local cheese and snuggled under our blanket watching a BBC crime drama. With no other sign of life in sight, we finally felt free - next to a stream in a misty forest, accompanied by the soundtrack of light rain. It wasn’t the most stunning place, the most famous or the most extreme, but it was just right.

[whitewolfbumble]

Wild Horses - Chapter 5/5

COMPLETED

A Bucky Barnes Biker AU

Summary: Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: About 3k

Warnings: Language, shock

A/N: The last chapter is here! I really hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I have writing it. And of course this whole series is dedicated to celebrating the darling @softhairbarnes for her milestone and to highlight how beautiful a soul she is! Love you so much darling and hope this series made your days a little brighter.

MY MASTERLIST // WILD HORSES MASTERLIST // CHAPTER FOUR

You couldn’t say how long you stood there alone, watching the door and waiting for him to come back. Long enough for the blood to cool and turn frigid on your back and legs. Long enough for your shaking to stop. Long enough for your conscious working mind to ease the shock and take back a small amount of control.

He left you because he knew you could handle this.

That thought rung through your head dully and distantly at first, repeating over and over until action resulted from it, pushing cobwebs and haze from your mind.

You had seen a dead body before. You had had the blood of another person on you. You knew the sound of a knife cutting flesh. What happened tonight wouldn’t kill you. It wouldn’t even hurt you. It had been necessary, and you could handle it.

You can handle this.

Eventually you turned slowly, feet still planted, looking around you. Despite the minimal places in town, this looked familiar but you pushed that thought away quickly. You didn’t need to sort this out, you needed a plan. You needed a plan so you could get through this.

You were cold and wet. You wanted to be warm and dry. 

So that would be step one.

With clicking, chattering teeth you took one slow and tentative step as though you were walking on stilts for the first time, arms held up in front of you, reaching to hold on to nothing. After a couple more in the direction of a partially open door with what looked like a tile floor, you allowed your feet to take back control and get you across the room.

The old creaky door opened with the slightest pressure of your hand, a smear of blood where you touched it. The bathroom was old and tiled floor to ceiling in chipped, dingy tile. Just like at your house it had an ancient clawfoot tub and you walked right to it. You ran the shower, pipes groaning and spraying down a shatter of cold water until after a time it started finally warming.

You sat in that tub, back to the drain with steaming hot water cascading down your shoulders, eyes focused ahead on the decaying tile. You couldn’t allow yourself to watch the blood pouring off you in gushing streams. It was some time before the water wasn’t blood red anymore. And even longer after that before you stood up, stripping your clothes off and leaving them there without another glance.

Wrapped in a worn but clean towel you walked through the large room you had been standing in, shock and trauma easing after that shower, as though the water washed a little of the horror away too.

The room itself was feeling more familiar than you first realized, something about it ringing up thoughts of having been someplace similar. The space was like a loft and completely open, dark brown wood comprising the floor and walls and rafters, looking just the same as Anderson’s bar. 

It didn’t have a kitchen, just a bed against the wall in a broken and lopsided bedframe. A next to a small side table was next to it and a couple dusty boxes in the corner, and besides the bathroom and what looked like a closet door, that was it really. Nothing remarkable or homey to it at all.

You clutched the towel to yourself as you went to the closet, your nerves shut up for just a moment as you saw worn and clean clothes. They were huge on you, enveloping your frame, but the old sweat pants, shirt and hoodie was comfortable and it meant you didn’t have to either stand naked or get back into wet, bloodied clothes. It wasn’t exactly relief, but a kind of silent thankfulness that hugged you at finding the garments.

You changed in a rush, exposed in the wide open room, before sitting with the loud strain of old metal bedsprings under you, wrapping your arms around your knees. 

And again, for an unknown length of time, you waited.

_______

You weren’t stupid, but it did seem to you now that you were, in fact, a complete idiot.

In the space of the minutes or hours you were there, dark night refusing to give up its hold, you began to think through everything leading up to your being here.

And one thing you settled on was that the group of noisy, occasionally obnoxious, though always rather kind bikers were not there for Bucky’s sake. They weren’t there to see if he was alright, to make sure he was being taken care of, to keep an eye on him.

In fact, he seemed just fine, fighting off your attacker, getting you here and carrying you up to this loft. His movements had been swift and pain free it looked like, posture upright and moving without a hint of stiffness. And even his expressions, the way he smiled the morning after, the contentment he had… He must have been hurt like this before and this latest bout didn’t phase him in the least.

Bucky, just like the others, had stayed there with you. 

Had stayed there because of you.

And like an idiot, you concocted a lie and made them leave.

You sighed into your hands, not knowing the full picture or having every question answered, but you figured out enough for guilt to mingle in with the other innumerable emotions doing somersaults inside you.

And now where were the others? Where was Bucky? Out there in the darkness, fighting the people who came after you? Getting hurt or stabbed or killed?

If so, it was because of you. Maybe you weren’t the cause for the feud, but you were a catalyst. Bucky had said more than once that he would protect you, with his life if necessary. Looks like you had put that to the test already.

Now not so much alone, but accompanied by your thoughts and guilt, you continued to wait. The room around you settled and creaked, the night air brushed through the tree outside the windows, and in the dark you stayed.

_______

A freezing terror held you still as you heard someone come up the stairs two at a time, but that disappeared instantly when you saw his face. It was as though the memory of the time you spent alone vanished the second you saw him.

Those big blue eyes, white and bloodied shirt, rich brown hair… Just the image of him here with you was a balm to your tattered soul, blood and all.

His name was caught in your throat and yours in his it seemed, the two of you saying nothing at first as he crossed the expanse to you. Bucky sat down in front of you, and heavily your head hit his shoulder, breathing in the now comforting smell of leather, exhaust, and open roads that clung to him. You remembered when you hated this smell. You couldn’t possibly hate it now.

“I’m alright.” you whispered to his unspoken question, rubbed into your back with his large warm hands.

You turned up to him, weary but awake eyes on his. He adjusted as you did, one hand staying on your back and the other now on your neck, looking down at you softly and pained.

“I’m so sorry Bucky, I didn’t know,” you started. “I just didn’t realize it…”

You hesitated, rolling the next question around in your mouth, needing to ask it but not wanting the answer. Not if wasn’t the response you wanted.

“Is… How is Steve? The others? Is anyone…” you trailed off, not wanting to voice the end to your question.

“Everyone’s fine, it’s all fine,” he murmured gently. “We handled them.”

His words eased off a small fraction of guilt inside you. It was enough for you to be able to get off this rickety bed and pace out to the middle of the room.

Bucky stood immediately, moving to follow but your pacing steps to and fro kept him at bay. You needed space in all this it because you couldn’t have the feel of your skin to his- that intimate presense you shared when he was close- sway him to sugar coat this. You needed to hear the truth.

“It’s all my fault, isn’t it?” you said, less as a question and more a confirmation. “This is happening somehow because of me.”

“No,” Bucky said firm and kind, hands loosely on his hips in emphasis. “I can’t say that’s true at all. I’m the one that started this, if we’re being honest.”

From what you knew, Bucky had left the Avengers when he hit a rough patch and joined a rough crowd. This sweet man in front of you couldn’t have stayed with that group Hydra, even considering the deadly side you knew of him and tonight had witnessed to its full extent. 

But that was out of protection, out of need. A life of hate and fear just wasn’t where he belonged. So maybe his leaving had caused a rift in the gangs, maybe that escalated things to an all out war even, but you were involved in this somehow too.

“Well, maybe that’s true, but it’s not the whole picture Bucky,” you insisted. 

Internally you were bracing for the painful truth, waiting for the hammer to drop on you.

“Y/N, it’s not wha-”

“Don’t keep me in the dark anymore!” you shouted suddenly, voice ringing bitingly in the loft.

It was quiet for a few moments after the shrill echo of your voice died down before Bucky spoke.

“Alright,” he said, much quieter than you but just as firm. His eyes stayed glued on you, honest as always, and his body held back only by the insisted distance you kept from him.

“This town has what, fifty people living here? You think the other gang didn’t know exactly where you lived? It was always going to be risky, you taking the deal. Maybe the risks weren’t explained. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of the tension between us and them. They saw you as a weak link, a way to control us or take us down. But we weren’t about to let that happen.”

You focused only on his words and your breathing, ignoring everything else in the world or your past. In that moment it was only you and only Bucky that existed, and you took in every word he had to say.

“I knew when Rumlow came to the bar that he was a scout. He saw you with me, and that was all he needed. It was enough for Hydra. The meeting we had without you, after you fixed up my collar bone? About Hydra. The fight where I was stabbed by Rumlow? With Hydra. The protection you were under? Because of Hydra. They are a threat, Y/N. A serious one... Obviously.”

You had no idea you were running this race against this enemy. You had no idea this was all happening behind the scenes. You were caught up in this madness so fast you had the burning feeling of whiplash coursing through you, though you body was frozen still.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you managed to make out, hoarsely.

You were to blame partly, of that you knew, but you couldn’t hold yourself responsible for all of it. Not if you didn’t have every piece to this puzzle.

He shook his head a little, starting out with words he had all but made clear to you before.

“Because you’re between two worlds Y/N. One foot in in ours and one out there,” He pointed out the window, to home and more distantly to your past life. “We weren’t going to force you into our bloody, rough one. The plan was to keep you out of the way. Hidden. No one thought you would want to be in on this whole thing, not really. But I-I hoped…”

He faded off with a big silent sigh and piercing blue gaze.

“Hoped for what, Bucky?” you said. “That keeping me in the dark was going to work out for us all? I wouldn’t have sent anyone away if I had known all this.”

He paused, arms dropped to his sides, no walls or pretense up around him. He wasn’t the old Bucky, hardened, pained, and deadly. He wasn’t the one most saw, closed off, distant, someone to distrust. He was real and true and soft.

“That you would want to stay because of me,” he said simply. “I asked you before, actually. At the bar. I asked you to stay, and I didn’t just mean there. I wanted you to stay with us… With me.”

Your face turned blank, not quite unbelieving just… more like unable to process it right this second.

“You... you don’t know me.” you stammered.

“I don’t know every single detail about you, no. You’re right, I don’t.” He took one stride right up to you and closed the distance, his large frame dwarfing yours and sucking the air out of your lungs, replacing it with an ache. “But I do know what I want is you, Y/N. I spent a lot of my life doubting anything. Everything. My decisions, my path. But I haven’t doubted you. I couldn’t.”

This was wild.

This was insane.

You had unknowingly been going a hundred miles an hour down an unknown path from the start, side by side with him.

... And deep down this was exactly what you wanted.

You wanted one world, not this divide within you. You wanted one person to call yours. Who understood. You wanted connection.

Before you could speak he did, needing to fill the silence with something other than what could be your rejection of him and this life.

“I’ll let you go, Y/N. If that is what you want,” His expression lay still, shutting down whatever emotions he could. It was only successful for a moment. “I can get you out of here tonight, back to you old life. To your friends and family.”

He paused briefly, eyes shifting to something almost pleading, searching yours desperately for an answer.

“Or you can stay. You can drop the pretense of belonging anywhere else, because I know you belong here. We can protect you. I will protect you. You could be happy, have a world you belong in, with a family you belong with… You could be with me because I… I want to belong to you, Y/N. And I want you to belong to me.”

His words hung vulnerable and thick between you, as raw and real as you had ever heard.

And for once you didn’t need to second guess. You didn’t need to talk it through. Even with the horror and blood you had witnessed, that didn’t compare- that couldn’t compare- or alter what you were feeling. What you had known but fervently wanted to doubt from the beginning. Something you just couldn’t push away anymore.

Maybe you should. Maybe you should have turned and ran from here the moment Bucky left. Gone to the authorities. Described the murder and terror of it all. Gotten away from all this. 

But you just didn’t want too. Logic aside, your feelings and your lifetime of longing won out.

“Okay,” you said simply, stunning yourself.

And with that one word, the dam inside you broke, releasing tension and panic, worry and nerves. It flowed down from your chest, tightness retreating with it, and dripped down your body into the floor, disappearing.

“Okay?” Bucky asked slowly, brows furrowed.

You looked to him, nodding and breathing easier than you had in what felt like your entire life.

“I’m in. I’m with you.” you said, light and honest.

Confusion spread on his face, but quickly mingled with realization and thread of  joy. He didn’t ask for details or question your few simple words or your intent. Didn’t ask for assurances or want to talk stipulations or boundaries. The calm and easy expression on your face, one he wasn’t sure he would ever see after murdering someone in front of your eyes, gave him confidence enough.

His smiling lips crashed into yours, more chuckling into you with joy than really kissing you. You couldn’t help doing the same, his infectious spirit overtaking yours.

“I have a suspicion you can’t go long without getting stabbed,” you said, buzzing with warmth and belonging at the arms wrapped around you. “So if you’re going after Hydra or they’re coming after you, I think you’ll need me.”

“I think I’ll always need you.” he whispered sweetly and hushed into your temple, kissing you gently, just like he had before leaving.

But unlike earlier, now you didn’t feel alone. You weren’t shocked or afraid or divided. You had a place, had a person, had a world to be free in. To run wild in without self-imposed boundaries or the weight of unmet expectations. It was you, him, and the Avengers against everyone else. And it felt right.

A/N: Thanks again so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought of this series with a reblog/like/message, as it really keep me motivated to keep writing!  There is a possibility for a sequel to this (in the distant future) with either Buckys POV through the fighting and events or Readers POV with what comes after this. I have a bunch of other writing and requests to get through first but if you would be interested, let me know!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc @smodvocate @bungalowjamaica @buckybonky@methefandompanda @hangirl93 @captainrogerrsbeard @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @thisgirllikeme @jjsoccer11 @innerpandablizzard-blog @fanatic-fanfic

Bucky Barnes Tags: @bexboo616 @kaaatniss

Wild Horses Tags: @myshakespeareandarling @lunasayinprincess2 @disagreetoagree @lilypalmer1987@verygraphicink @jsmith509 @plumsforbuckxx @imnotcoolmasterrr

[marshmallow-phd]

The Experiments

(gif not mine)

Genre: Sci-Fi, Thriller, Experiment AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Exo (????)

Summary: You were a med school graduate who just wanted to help research cures for the world. Instead, what you got was a dream job at EXO Applied Sciences. That is, until you discover the secrets of Level Sixty-Six and the nine inhabitants that are stored down there….

Warning: mentions of abuse

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I 18 I 19 I 20 I 21 I 22 I 23 I Final

The boys were getting restless. You could feel it. Marcus had said that the contact would be at the cabin within the week, but it had already been over a week and a half with no sign of any other living soul in the vicinity. There was still plenty of food in the house so that didn’t worry you. But what if the contact never arrived? What would happen then?

If Marcus was still here, you wouldn’t have worried so much. He’d have a way to contact someone from his department. Get the boys out of here. But he wasn’t here.

It’d taken you a while, but now you could think about your friend without breaking down. His bullet wound and the way his body slumped to the ground after his heart had stopped still haunted you, but you could push it away when it was necessary. Tears were now controllable.

There wasn’t much to do around the house. Baekhyun had found a few board games, but that only kept their attention for so long. You wondered if being cooped up here was worse.

Of course it wasn’t. They still had their free will. But it was like dangling a carrot in front of a starving donkey, keeping what it really wanted to just out of it’s reach. You wouldn’t let them go outside in case they were spotted. The area was far from civilization, but you couldn’t risk it. One mistake could be fatal for all.

On a particularly claustrophobic afternoon, you had snuck into one of the spare rooms that was set up like a study on the second floor. The windows gave you a nice view of the woods. Sitting on the bench under the ledge, you just stared out at the nature before you, absentmindedly rubbing your scar.

Birds were zooming in and out of the pine needle branches, singing to each other as they went about their day. Occasionally, a squirrel would ventru out and jump from one trunk to another and you even spotted a doe leading her young deer away from the house.

It was strange, how at peace you felt in this moment. As much as you worried about the future, in the current hour, you were content. You didn’t miss your work or apartment. The boys were the reason you kept yourself going to the lab. They came with you so you couldn’t bring yourself to miss running blood work everyday or straining your eyes on multiple monitors.

Instead, you felt rejuvenated by the forest, away from society. Like this had been what you were really striving for in your life. The boys made it more like home, helping you with chores and making you laugh, some of them still prone to more childish antics.

Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Jongdae had settled on spending their time playing tricks on the others. You couldn’t help but laugh at some of their schemes. They reminded you more of happy, clumsy beagles than ferocious wolves.

“Are you all right?”

Junmyeon had snuck into the office, closing the door behind him softly before sitting across from you on the nook, joining in on the peace and quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just not used to being surrounded by people twenty-four seven.”

Junmyeon laughed. “Yeah, they’re a bit much sometimes.”

Shrugging, you chuckled a bit. “Most of the time, I enjoy everyone’s company, I just spent most of my time alone before all this. I was never really outgoing.”

That made Junmyeon frown. “Why not? You seem to interact with us just fine.”

“I don’t think you guys really count,” you replied. Sighing, you looked back out the window. “I used to not be so afraid of people, but-” You bit your lip. This is what you had been afraid of. They made you too comfortable. And now your mouth had ran off without your brain.

“But what?” Junmyeon scooted closer to you. “(y/n), you can trust me.”

You shook your head, dropping your gaze down to your hands. “It’s not about trust. I just don’t like talking about it.”

“You were about to.”

Of course you were. You’d stopped just in time. Anxiety in overdrive, your thumb was rubbing your scar so hard you could feel the burning friction between your skin. Junmyeon placed his hand over yours and brought your wrist to him, inspecting the now red surface area. Normally, you would have yanked your arm back and ran for the hills, but the warmth emanating from Junmyeon’s eyes as he took in the detail of the scar, grazing it oh-so gently with his fingers tips stopped you.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

“I was thirteen,” you answered, nearly startling yourself. But once one little fact was released, everything else just came out. “My best friend was being abused. At first, she wouldn’t tell me. She’d lie and say it was an accident. She fell or ran into something.”

“A boyfriend?” Junmyeon guessed.

You shook your head. “Her dad. She was the only girl and the youngest. Her older brothers were gifted. Smart. Athletic. He had the same expectations of her, but she didn’t meet them. She was under so much pressure. It took a lot of prodding from me, but she finally told me everything.” You swallowed back tears, remembering how shaken she was as you held her, taking in everything she told you.

“I thought I was helping. Everyone said that if your friend told you something was going on at home then you told an adult. So, I did. I told our teacher. The teacher called the authorities. She’d seen the bruises too, but now she had me to back her theory up. Child services came and looked everything over, but her father was able to charm them off. Then he beat her some more for being ungrateful.” Junmyeon was right next to you now, rubbing your arm up and down to comfort you as you let it all out.

“What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you finished out the third act of the story. “I thought she’d hate me forever, but she didn’t. She said that she understood. I was just trying to help. When her family was out of town, she invited me over for a sleepover. Everything was fine. Until we went to bed. After I’d fallen asleep, she’d snuck downstairs and turned the stove on. The police say she must have coated a washcloth in grease left from dinner and threw it on the stove along with a lit match, starting a fire. I woke up coughing. The bedroom was on the second floor. Smoke was everywhere. I ran out to the hallway. I couldn’t find her. I didn’t understand what was going on. All I could think of was getting out of the house, away from the fire. A piece of the ceiling that was on fire fell and hit my arm as I was running for the front door. Third degree burns that scarred my wrist.” You closed your eyes, trying to push away the images. “I can still hear her screams sometimes.

“The police ruled it a suicide. Her mom tried to take her own life a few weeks later. Took a whole bottle of pills but they got her to the hospital in time. Sometimes, I wonder if I had just kept my mouth shut, if I hadn’t told anyone, she might still be here.”

“No, (y/n).” Junmyeon carrassed your face with the back of his hand. “You did what you thought was right. You wanted to save your friend. You can’t blame yourself. She made her decision. I’m honestly thankful that you at least survived. Because I got to meet you.”

Your eyes met his and your heart started beating erratically in your chest. Those brown eyes steadily stayed on you, reading you like you were the most sacred text that was bringing light into his life. Since the day you walked into his cell, Junmyeon always seemed to be able to see right through you. He opened you up as easily as a worn out paperback and it scared you. Never in his presence had you ever felt fear or in danger. His presence calmed you and his skin against yours… felt like home. And he trusted you completely.

“I almost didn’t do it,” you confessed.

Junmyeon knit his eyebrows together, dropping his hands to his lap. “Do what? Tell your teacher?”

“No,” you countered. “I almost didn’t agree to break you guys out.” Holding your breath, you waited. You thought maybe he would pull away, become angry with you. But he didn’t.

“It couldn’t have been an easy decision,” he replied. “But what matters is that you did. You’re a strong person, (y/n). I admire that.”

You pouted. “Do you have any sort of flaw?”

He laughed, caught off guard by your sudden playful comment. Even though it did lift the mood, you were serious. Suddenly you felt like a repeating sinner in the presence of a saint.

The door to the study opened. Chanyeol peaked his head in. A large, toothy smile had been on his face when he first saw you, but noticing Junmyeon’s closeness, it faltered.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you stood up, putting space between the two of you. “Yes, Chanyeol?”

He blinked, taking a few seconds before answering you. “Yixing and Kyungsoo made dinner. We wanted to wait for you first.”

You smiled at the thoughtfulness. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Not looking at Junmyeon, you passed Chanyeol, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairs. Your turn of attention to him seemed to bring his mood up once more.

Everyone was already gathered at the island. There was a decent sized dining table in the next room over, but the boys didn’t care for it. Neither did you. Eating around the kitchen island helped all of you feel closer. Like a family.

They were your family now. While there were moments where you missed your parents, you felt that if you were suddenly ripped away from the boys, it would devastate you. It was the kind of loss that could kill you.

“Bbbuuuurrrrrrppppppp.”

“Oh, now, that’s just disgusting,” you complained. A terrible side effect for some of the boys was their lack of manners. Well, one particular boy’s lack of manners.

Baekhyun just let out his signature laugh you could recognize on a whole different floor. Some of the others laughed as well, while a few were on your side. Yixing frowned. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and Junmyeon just sighed. Chanyeol was laughing as well until he caught your disapproving glare. His mouth shut with an audible clamp.

Minseok shook his head. “I was going to ask why you’re acting like a caged animal, but then I realized what a dumb question that was.”

You choked on your food holding back a laugh. It shouldn’t have been funny to you at all given their circumstances, but you couldn’t help it. The accuracy of the statement was just to spot on.

Confused eyes trained on you.

“You know,” Jongdae chuckled, “I didn’t know you had a sick sense of-”

He stopped. All the boys froze, their ears visibly strained, hearing something your own failed to pick up on. Collectively, they all jumped up, scrambling over each other to the hall. You were several steps behind them, nearly running to Yixing’s back as they all crowded in the front parlor around the door.

Stepping around the gentle wolf, you started towards the door, still unable to understand what was going on. Jongin jumped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from going any further. He lifted your feet off the ground, taking you back away from the door. Chanyeol and Junmyeon stood on either side, creating a three-man wall in front of you.

“What is going on?” you whispered.

“There’s someone outside,” Junmyeon whispered back.

“Their scent....,” Chanyeol murmured. “There’s something familiar about it.”

They all sniffed the air, trying to put their fingers on what they could be smelling.

Sehun’s eyes widened. “Wait. I know-”

He ran for the door, pushing past his smaller hyungs.

Baekhyun tried to stop him. “No, Sehun-”

It was too late. The young, impulsive wolf threw open the door. Everyone gasped loudly except for you.

It was a young man with light blonde hair and a soft face. A crooked smile adorned his lips, recognition in his eyes. Sehun threw his arms around the newcomer’s neck, his own shoulders shaking slightly as quiet sobs escaped.

Your eyes widened. Several of the boys had mentioned the missing members in detail during your sessions, but by Sehun’s particular reaction to the visitor’s presence, you knew he could only be one person.

Number Zero-Seven.

Minseok fell to his knees in disbelief.

“Luhan.”

[thefreshfinds]

Propelled by the vibrant energy, treasured ambiance, connectivity, heart drenched food and melodies intertwining with the Saturday afternoon clouds —

There I stood in the emblem of The Philadelphia Music Festival, starving for a bite of fresh talent and so I decided to fill my plate with only the best manifolds of visionary hip hop, pop, R&B, trap and rock but little did I know I was in for a feast!

*Credits to @_brandoncaptures_ *

The first to perform was Monica Joelle, a dynamic Pop/R&B songstress from Philly that strikes your heart hard like Cupid’s arrow with her orientally sweet voice and cherry dripped instrumentals. She effortlessly plucks you with relatable lyrics (whether it’s about sticky situations, love or having a crush) and that’s why no one can seem to get enough. Monica started off with songwriting / singing lessons and from there she has continuously bloomed into her own sound as an artist, writing pieces that show off her complexity through set-ups and syllables. The songstress has only been making music until December 2017 but prior to that she has always been performer whether it was for dance or theater. The first song she ever created which was “Never Forget You” which is your ordinary heartbreak song but still relatable (and surely a track she had the most fun making.) To prepare for the festival she took the living room as her stage — using the microphone and speaker as the components for an astounding set off in real life. And in the future? Monica plans on releasing an EP and shooting out singles. (she can’t give us a name as of yet but I’m sure whatever it is will reflect the bubbly aura she conveys on and off the stage) The date will be revealed before you even know it but don’t take the risk of missing out on it.. just make sure to follow @MonicaJoelle.

“I’m not going to stop, I’m going to keep going. Forget what the haters say” Monica says.

SoundCloud - https://soundcloud.com/monicajoelle

Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/artist/55UAah5w59sJuQyekaRswr?si=wKn4V9eeSJaIM8XJtvZFAw

Fun Fact: Her favorite slang is “Jawn”

My favorite song? On My Mind.

The next performer to zazzle the crowd was conscious wordsmith, Teef. Teef is a laid back visionary from New Jersey (residing now in Philly) who puts your mind at ease through charismatic storytelling intertwined with a fusion of neo-soul hip-hop, concrete flows, very solid messages and speaker knocking beats that could make your head snap off your neck (literally). Resonated with A Tribe Called Quest, one could even say that he has their style down pat as he makes sure to transition a soothing ambience through the vibration of his rhymes and wit. Teef started his musical journey in 2015 after dropping his first project called “Hip Hop On Purpose”. He was always into music but this project was the pinnacle of his musicianship “I just stopped thinking about doing something and I finally just started doing it,” says Teef “I was very hesitant about becoming a rapper at first because of what was out on the mainstream. I don’t even rap about that stuff [being on the block, etc]. Then one day I performed at an open mic, people liked it, asked me to come back and since then I kept going.” Aside from spitting bars Teef also enjoys welding, reading informational novels, free styling and networking. “Earlier [before the festival] I was actually welding up a rail and it wasn’t even a joke!” Teef goes on to say “Genuinely I just love to be around people. [when asked about networking] I like being around other independent artist and feeding off of their energy and ideas.” To prepare, Teef didn’t do much but go with the motion of the [creative] ocean and sway his natural repertoire in the ears of the ones close by. “I picked my songs when I got here. But I don’t always put my set together until I get there.” Teef says “I just went with the vibes”. One song that Teef enjoyed making the most was his first song “Get Free” because it allowed him to showcase his style to other people. “It was really random. It was made at three o clock in the morning and I really didn’t have an intent but it just hit me out of the blue. I crafted it in my own way. It was the most memorable time for me. That’s why I consider it to be fun because it just happened.” Common to persona, Teef’s favorite slang is “coolin” and the number one person that he looks up to in history is Bob Marley because he brought people together (and even squashed beef between politicians). “He was all about the people and the community”. Teef is currently running a weekly radio show called “Most Slept On Radio” on 98.5FM (it covers the Philadelphia area). He also runs Table Talk with Teef on Tuesday’s.

“I’m just growing with my artistry”

You can follow him on

Instagram : @realteef03

Bandcamp : https://lateef.bandcamp.com/Spotify : https://open.spotify.com/artist/0wNgFnLMKH5Dui6DdHSoUK?si=We2MVY6jSE6eut8W_CQaGg

My favorite song? Strangers in the Night

Wafting their chantable ad libs through heavy marijuana smoke, this group’s sound floats smoothly to your ear canals. The next act, The Joint Cheefs allowed me to let my conscious free through their use of moderate boom bap and sharp witted lyrics… but to be more clear, I can say that this trio changes the high experience by implicating an old feel of New York rap through their wrap of rhymes *that solely support the 420 movement* and calm aesthetic. To begin Geo The Rican, Sonny Blue Note and Loud Pack Ralph formulated as a triad one day while working in their studio in the Bronx. “We are producers and engineers so the idea itself just grew organically” says Geo the Rican. They have been making music for some time but to get to where they are now they pretty much just smoked a lot (no pun intended) and became more personal with their music, putting their trials and tribulations through their rhymes and as a result they have been gaining a peak of listeners on a daily basis. To prepare for the Philly Festival they answered with “smoking weed” but ultimately it was through the power of fun. “We take the music seriously but we try not to take ourselves too serious.” they go on to say “We take pride in our sound far as recording and making it.”To separate theirselves from the rest, the Joint Cheefs actually live through what they rap about. “We’re in a lane that we want to be in. It’s not too crowded, some people might say it’s our own and we’re going to hot box all the way to the top.” Aside from their recent release of “Never Canoe” on April 20th 2018, the Joint Cheefs are currently working on their album “Jars” which will be on all platforms by November 31st. When it comes to favorite strands, Sonny Blue Note enjoys Indica because it helps him sleep, Geo the Rican chooses Sativa because it helps him stay focused and Loud Pack Ralph enjoys hybrid because he just wants to get high. Fun fact: Their favorite slang is between “BroGod” and “Deadass” because they love to pay homage to their hometown.

You can follow them on

Instagram - @thejointcheefs

Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/thejointcheefs/the-joint-cheefs-n-high-c

Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/artist/1DQg3ISncFAuWAdDhebBMc?si=Q-Lu8Xv9QP-pfqkDU9tflg

My favorite song: It’s a tough one. It’s between “N High C” & “The Art of Hotboxing”

Lights on (meaning the sunlight of course) and centered on the stage, the next act to captivate me was Almost Famous who reels his listeners in with a hook of merciless R&B and a fair amount of auto tune. Generally speaking, Mr Famous has the 2000 feel of soul mastered perfectly as he dashes platforms with a similar production that Ne-Yo or even Genuine would use. The difference between him and the artist mentioned though is that he adds his own twist of dominating words, making sure to switch it up through trap and pop (while also warning his mysterious lover from time to time that they could be replaced in a heart beat) But don’t assume that his heart is locked up in a cage, Mr Famous still has a soft side to him and shows it from time to time. To begin, Almost Famous started off his career as a background dancer for a mass of Philly artist. “Hearing them, I realized that maybe I should create my own music so I started writing, perfecting melodies and harmonies and going to shows.” Famous says. This West Philadelphian has been doing music for 4 years but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s slowing down. Almost Famous grinds hard through releasing new singles and it even shows through his stage presence! “[To prepare for the festival] I had a few shows coming up, so I just kept on rolling with my other ones.” says Almost Famous. One song that Almost Famous enjoyed making the most is “Options” because it was during a time when he had to walk to work in the midst of a strike. “I heard the beat and it was mine from there. If it wasn’t for the strike, it wouldn’t be what it is now.” Fundamentally, Almost Famous would collaborate with Jasmine Sullivan if he was given the chance because her song writing skills and singing is perfect. But the bonus? Jasmine Sullivan is also from Philly. Even though Almost Famous shows love to his hometown he is not too fond of the people who run the Philly Hip Hop Awards “About a year or so they dogged me out but now that I’m apart of a new record label, they try to follow my moves and the label I’m with [Spit It Out Entertainment].” Famous goes on to say. As for his opinion on DMX? He thinks that DMX is a legend. “I feel like he’s been through a lot and a lot of people try to discredit him.”

Almost Famous’ favorite slang is “you drawlin’. “ He also considers himself a morning person because that’s when he’s able to get the day started. His project “Growth” will be released in November. Almost Famous also wants to give a shoutout to Spit it Out Entertainment.

My favorite song? Options (but the other song title can’t be given out. I will let the fans know when “Growth” is on streaming platforms)

You can follow him:

Instagram - @almostfamous215

YouTube - https://youtu.be/ilkKpQ0X8us

*Credits to Brother IB Photography @brother_ib *

The next act to glide his angelic floetry to the streets of Philly was Mashich, an upcoming trap soul artist from Philly who keeps things interesting through a singsong vocal pattern and propulsive beats but to stand out from the other singers that took a part of the festival, Mashich graced the crowd with silver printed dance moves. Even though Mashich has been singing since he was 7, he started taking his craft seriously in the past year. He’s originally from Aiken, South Carolina but he moved to Philly 7 years ago. When it comes to his favorite slang from his new home, he says it’s “d*ckhead” or “f*ck out of here”. To prepare for the Philly Festival, Mashich practiced nonstop. “I’m really big on practicing so I utilized any free time and space I had.” Mashich goes on to say. “I blasted music from my speaker, went over the song and got my movements down. From there I was able to find a form that helped to present myself and my style.”To stabilize his vocal chords, he drinks a lot of tea and does a range of warm ups while making sure to sing out of his diaphragm. In addition, Mashich would collab with Daniel Caesar if he had the opportunity. “All of his music is super creative and how he keeps his vocal deliveries organized is really dope,” says Mashich “I could learn a couple of things from him.”What makes this crooner so different from others is the thing he plans on bringing an old school feel back to R&B. “I hope that through my unique songwriting and vocal structure I am able to push other artist to do the same” All in all he wants good fortunes for the human race. Because let’s face there’s more to life. Love is limitless. “Miss My Dawgs” is currently out on streaming platforms. Be on the lookout for his debut EP “Small Town, Big City” which will cover his coming of age story. Leaving his house and growing with Philly.

“Whatever you believe you can do, you can do that sh*t. You can much success and much love”

You can follow him on:

SoundCloud - https://soundcloud.com/mashichmusic/miss-my-dawgs

Instagram - @k.ing.tut

Last to wow the crowd away was Bronx native Captain DMac who “makes your neck stretch like an ostrich”. Ticking the spinal chords of those familiar with dancehall and pop, Captain DMac’s brush of sultry vocal play and enticing melodies took me back to a tropical island that effortlessly illuminates peace, love and good vibes towards it’s community. I couldn’t help but to move my hips to the vigorous, self pulsating beats to follow.

We [Luis and I] were instantly allured. We needed to find out more and so we did.

Captain DMac started making music when he was in high school. “I was doing songs for different environments and people or surroundings,” DMac goes on to say “Anything that would happen I would make a song about it. I would often recite Snoop Dogg’s “Drop it Like It’s Hot” [in that time period] too because he’s one of my favorite artist and then someone said “Hey you should make your own song” so I decided to try it. The first cover I did was “Dreams Money Could Buy” by Drake and ever since I have been creating my own songs.”His tracks are mostly embed with a homage to his culture and admirable women and when he spits, he SPITS. Before switching genres, Captain DMac was just an aspiring rhymester who made headlines with his hit single “Big Ol Booty” because of the line from the song “Stretching out her neck like an ostrich” (and it became so well known that it went viral on Facebook and Worldstar, gaining over 8 million views to date.) However, Captain DMac didn’t get the credit he deserved but eventually he was gaining more recognition and reclaimed what was his. A lot of people [A&R’s] saw his songs for what it is and not what it could be, but his close ones thought otherwise. “One day I was talking to my boy and he said “Yo you’re Jamaican you should really touch that dancehall scene because there’s a lot of American artist that are doing it.” and I said “You know what you’re right let’s try it. The first one I made was Hold (which received positive feedback) and from there I said to myself let’s keep creating these vibes.” says Captain DMac. “There was a lot of obstacles to get to where I am. I met a lot of good people, sometimes bad. But I continue to strive and I surround myself around people who also strive. They have to work hard towards what they want to get and that’s what my team does. We just trying to get it. It all starts with good music.” Captain DMac also says that “Just Me & You” was his favorite song to make, “I recruited my friend to do light vocals and in the end he sounded like Super Mario.” All in all what makes him unique from the rest is his pen game. “I can have multiple versions of one song”

Captain DMac will continue to touching the Dancehall scene & the people.

He will be dropping two EP’s very soon.

His single “Think About” ft Juanialys is out right now

Fun fact: His favorite slang is yerr

&

He is a boxers guy.

You can find him at:

Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/captaindmac

Instagram - @captaindmac

Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/artist/5p154fD2gshCzENn8a4W8b?si=YLJ645G7TEOZSWFjQuj47Q

At its best, Philly Music Festival will continuously flourish as a platform for artist on the rise.

It’s more than just an event, it’s a spot that’ll reign of harmony, inspiration and positive energy.

By: Natalee Gilbert 🌞

[luucarii]

With a Dash of Gin - Ch19

Wow, I actually got my chapter numbers right! And I posted something two days in a row! What madness!

Also I live for an easily embarrassed Kokichi so...

Read on Ao3

The rest of the week seemed to drag. Rantaro went back to his afternoon shifts, fearing the worst should he decide to take anything later than working from noon to six. Midori had seemed to warm up to him a bit and finally dropped the attitude once he had returned to normal. Kokichi and Shuichi were in the midst of moving out of their dorms for the summer, both of them staying in Shuichi’s uncle’s house. He was usually out working so most days the two of them were stuck in the house alone complaining about nothing to do.

With the slow week came a drastic rise in temperature. July usually was the worst month during the summer with frequent heat waves and general discomfort in the muggy evenings. There was always the suggestion (usually from Kaede or Kaito) of going to the beach but both Shuichi and Kokichi made subtle excuses for avoiding the beach when really they just wanted to avoid a sunburn. Despite his reluctance, Kokichi refused to sit the heatwave out. It would be a waste to sit inside during the rare days where the temperature was fair enough to stay outside for more than a few hours. Thankfully for him, Rantaro seemed to be thinking the exact same thing and it didn’t take too long into the week for him to call and invite him to hang out.

“A pool?” Kokichi cocked an eyebrow and from across the room, Shuichi’s eyes shot up. He nodded vigorously and Kokichi snickered. Being stuck inside for nearly a week was getting to Shuichi’s head.

“Yeah, I think my dad set up plans with one of his business partners. There’s a branch of the Togami corporation near the area and they own a house with a huge pool. We’ve been given an invitation to come whenever we like.”

“Was this recent?”

Rantaro’s voice lowered, “yeah. He probably sent his assistant to do it. Maybe just to keep us unaware of what’s happening with him.”

“Ranty…” Kokichi drifted off and Rantaro chuckled on the other end.

“Don’t worry about it. So are you gonna come? I’m taking my sisters and I think they’d love to have you.”

“You’d love to have me too, don’t lie to yourself Ranty! And can I have a plus four? My friends have been bugging me nonstop about going out to the beach and this is one better.”

“Sure, just swing by my house around noon and we’ll go.”

With a giggle, Kokichi hung up and threw his phone onto his bed. Eyes narrowed onto Shuichi and he pointed at him, his free hand on his hip, “Shuichi! Call Kaede, Maki and Kaito! We’re all going to a rich kid’s pool!”

One concern Kokichi had about the whole outing was how twelve people were going to squeeze together in one subway car with dozens of others. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to squishing but he worried how Chizuru and the other young sisters would fare. Though most of his concerns were easily laid to rest as he walked up Rantaro’s street and saw a long car stretching in front of his house. 

Kokichi’s eyes lit up.

Outside were Rantaro and his sisters, all dressed up in loose fitting clothing with bathing suits underneath, holding small bags which Kokichi assumed were filled with clothes and whatever other girly things they needed. At first glance of Kokichi, Chizuru dashed up to him and hugged his leg, cringing somewhat afterward. She looked up at him in confusion and there was no way Kokichi was going to admit how much sunscreen he put on so he would avoid a sunburn.

“Kokichi! You didn’t tell me Rantaro had a freakin limo!” Kaito hissed and for a moment, Kokichi was grateful he had enough of a mind to censor himself in front of the kids.

“It’s not mine.” Rantaro smiled as he looked toward his sisters and nudged his head to the car. They all slid inside, leaving the door open behind them and Kaede excitedly dragged Maki inside. “The corporation is a big one when it comes to appearances. Any guests they have over have to be treated like celebrities. Personally I wouldn’t mind taking the subway but well, I won’t pass up a free ride.”

Kaito narrowed his eyes, “is there AC?”

“Of course.”

“Drinks?”

“If you’re thirsty, yeah.”

“Radio?”

“..It’s still a car?”

Kaito grinned and flung an arm over Kokichi’s shoulder, “you picked a good on Kokichi. He’s a keeper.”

“Just get in the damn car.” Kokichi grumbled and Rantaro laughed. Kaito darted toward the car and slid inside and it wasn’t long until his voice was heard sparking up conversation with Rantaro’s sisters. Rantaro slipped a hand into Kokichi’s and planted a tiny kiss on his forehead before pulling away.

“Why are you all slimy?”

Kokichi glared at him, “like I’d risk getting burned. You’re insane.”

Rantaro shrugged and lightly pushed Kokichi ahead, holding the door open from him and letting him slide inside beside Kaede. He jumped in and closed the door and once the car had darkened, there was a soft voice coming from the speakers.

“The Togami Corporation gladly welcomes your company Mr. Amami and friends.”

“No need for formalities. Rantaro’s fine.” 

“My name is Kirumi Tojo. I shall be taking care of you all today. Please, let me know if I can assist you with anything.”

Kokichi giggled, “faaancy.”

It didn’t take too long for the car to finally start moving and Kokichi was struck with awe throughout the entire drive. The interior was decked out with mini compartments and had a small mini fridge built into the floor. The seats were leather and the entire experience was nothing short of mesmerizing. With Rantaro’s arm lazily draped over his shoulder, Kokichi felt nothing short of being a king.

During the drive, everyone had introduced themselves and it seemed Kazu and Saki had grown interested in Maki. They were seated on her two sides and they continuously would ask her questions about her life. Kokichi worried she’d snap at them knowing how easily annoyed she get but if anything she was a bit bashful, awkwardly telling stories to the girls who looked on in awe.

Eri managed to spark up conversation with Kaede and, being the two optimists out of the whole group, they managed to hit it off very well. Kaede mentioned her interest in music and her love of the piano and Eri had excitedly offered to take pictures of her while she performed. Kokichi could swear he saw them exchanging phone numbers. Sasori and Shuichi had mostly talked about what they were studying in college, Shuichi suddenly growing an interest in the medical field despite his firm determination to be a detective.

Kaito was stuck with Midori and Chizuru though he didn’t mind too much. Kokichi could tell how hard it was for him to watch his mouth around Chizuru — granted having Saki as a sister, Kokichi wouldn’t be surprised if she had heard worse from her. Midori tried to be modest but she had the same big eyed expression as Chizuru usually had.

Upon arrival, Kokichi couldn’t believe it could get any better than it already had. Riding in a limo and being able to go into a rich kid’s pool was more than enough, but seeing the grand scale of what he assumed was one of the many Togami households left him dizzy. The exterior was a near golden bronze and it seemed to sparkle under the harsh sun. He leaned into Rantaro and spoke in slurred awe.

“This is the rich kid’s life…”

“It’s really not that grand after a while. But it’s cute to see you like that.” Rantaro nudged his shoulder and guided him inside the house with Kirumi leading the group. The main hall was huge with marble flooring and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was a noticeable echo but all that could be heard was Kokichi and his friends commenting on how utterly astounding it was.

Kirumi led the group to the back porch where a large rectangular pool sparkled. Pool chairs were set up around the perimeter with a few umbrellas shadowing over them. A few more maids and butlers were placed around the outside, tidying up the area and suddenly straightened themselves when Kirumi stepped in the center  Kirumi outstretched a hand to show off the outside and smiled as she bowed, and with that small soft tone of voice, she spoke.

“We hope you enjoy your stay.”

On that note, Saki let out a squeal and immediately rushed to claim a chair, flinging her bag onto it. Midori took the one beside her and it didn’t take long for most of the chairs on the left side to be claimed by the girls. The four boys took the other side and couldn’t help feeling a bit overwhelmed by the difference in number between girls and boys. The boys (specifically Kaito) made sure to mind their eyes when the likes of Kaede and Maki were in the midst of taking off their clothes and adjusting to the feeling of wearing a swimsuit. Kaede’s was modest, a simple frilly pale pink two piece and Maki had a red one piece that she had to borrow from her. The two girls embarrassingly tried to help the sisters adjust their swimsuits but Kokichi wouldn’t ignore the way Eri would stare at the girls in admiration.

Kokichi shrugged it off and turned to face the guys. Shuichi was far too embarrassed to even think of lifting up his shirt and it only took Kaito threatening to push him into the pool for him to slip off the thin fabric. Kaito’s were a weird red color for some reason and he had complained that since Shuichi had called him last minute, all his other swimwear had been thrown in the laundry already. The one who surprised him the most, for obvious reasons, was Rantaro and Kokichi felt the heat rushing to his cheeks the minute Rantaro slipped his shirt off. Wearing dark blue swim trunks with a thin lime green outline, Kokichi eyed how despite the fact he was thin, Rantaro had garnered quite a bit of muscle. His build wasn’t Kaito level or anything but he was damn near impressive when put against the other guys. Kokichi gulped when he realized he was the only one who hadn’t stripped yet and suddenly felt a bit self-conscious.

“You alright?” Rantaro questioned as he worked on taking out the piercings in his ears.

“Of course I am, Ranty! How couldn’t I be?”

“You haven’t taken your shirt off yet. I honestly believed you’d be the first to jump in the minute we got here.”

That award went to Kazu, followed by Saki. The two girls came up for air and giggled, splashing each other with water before Kaede joined in. Eri kept dry for the first few minutes, taking a personal tour of the outside with her camera to take picture of the house and the flowers in the garden. Kaito rushed across the other side and pushed Maki in the pool while she was in the midst of pulling up her hair. With a typical Maki Stare, she reached for his leg and dragged him in. Midori decided she’d prioritize tanning over anything and Sasori decided to relax with her to keep her company. Shuichi sat at the edge of the pool with a silent Chizuru as they dipped their feet into water and sighed to themselves. Shuichi made sure he looked back a few time to catch if Kokichi would be devilish enough to push him in but was still surprised when Kokichi eventually did.

“I didn’t know Ranty was secretly a pervert.” Kokichi narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, clicking his tongue.

“Call me whatever you want but I’m dragging you in this pool sooner or later. Better to be prepared now.” Rantaro’s eyes glinted teasingly and Kokichi grumbled. 

“Rantaro, stop teasing the poor kid and get in! I want to take a few pictures!” Eri hissed as she readied her camera, already in the process of snapping pictures of Saki and Kazu doing handstands underwater. 

“Kid!? I’m older than you!” Kokichi snapped and he glared at Maki in the pool who was chuckling to herself. Before Kokichi could even echo out a sigh, he felt himself pulled into a hug and the ground under him disappeared. With Rantaro’s laugh in his ears, the two boys hit the water with a splash, enough scare Kazu and Saki into swimming to the surface.

When his head popped above the water, Kokichi coughed up a bit of water and frowned at the way his hair stuck to his face. Rantaro appeared behind him and wrapped his arms around Kokichi’s shoulders, kissing the other’s cheek playfully and Kokichi finally broke into a laugh.

“What the hell Ranty?”

“I told you I was getting you in here.” Rantaro’s head peered off to the side, “did you get it Eri?”

“Yep! Perfect! His face was so cute!” Eri giggled behind her camera.

“Ranty ruined my favorite shirt. Meanie.” Kokichi pouted and turned his head away from him.

“I’ll let you borrow mine.” Kokichi jumped when he felt Rantaro’s soft fingers pulled up the helm of his shirt and he wanted to die when he caught Kaito’s eyes narrowing in that sort of lewd glance.

“Aww, I think Kokichi has a sunburn already!” Saki teased and Kazu snickered behind her.

Once the shirt was finally pulled over his head (which Kokichi could swear took way longer than needed) and thrown over to his pool chair, Kokichi made his escape, swimming over to where Chizuru was sitting. He knew Rantaro didn’t mean anything by it beside maybe a light bit of teasing but his head reeled nonetheless.

“I didn’t know Kokichi was easily embarrassed. It’s kinda cute.” Kaede smiled.

“Shuichi’s the same way too. You should see him when I start teasing him about you.” Kokichi snickered and Shuichi, who had just poked his head up from underwater, looked around the pool in confusion.

“Wha?” 

Kokichi swam over to his roommate and flung an arm over his shoulder, “don’t worry about it, buddy!”

“Why am I suddenly scared?”

“Come on everyone! All together!” Eri cheered. Upon her request, before the drive home she wanted Kirumi to take a group photo of everyone. Eri took charge on setting everyone up, making sure the short ones were at the bottom and the taller ones near the top and it ended up with a near perfect setup of four rows of three. Kazu, Chizuru and Saki took the bottom, Kokichi, Midori and Shuichi the second row, Rantaro, Maki and Kaede the middle row and finally Sasori, Kaito and Eri at the top. Eri encouraged everyone to do more than just a plain smile and before the camera had flashed, she made sure she pulled Kaede into a tight embrace under her. The picture ended up with Sasori grinning at Kaito who was ruffling Maki’s wet hair, Rantaro leaning down to kiss Kokichi’s head, Maki looking up at Kaito with a glare, Kaede laughing while reaching a hand down to grab Shuichi’s, Midori holding Chizuru’s shoulders and Kazu and Saki bursting out into harsh laughter.

When Kirumi had handed Eri her camera back, the blonde girl squealed in excitement and her eyes softened at the sight. “I’ll make sure to print out a copy for everyone. So we never forget the fun we had today!”

“Oh! And don’t forget to send the pictures you took of me Eri!” Kaede giggled as she smiled and Eri smiled with her.

“Of course Kaede!”

“Aww, you guys got close! How cute!” Kokichi teased and grinned when Eri’s face warmed up. Kaede nodded and stood proudly next to Eri, grabbing her hand and holding it up in the air. Eri chuckled sheepishly and gulped, looking over at Kaede with timid eyes.

“Trust me, this won’t be the last bit of teasing she gets about that.” Rantaro whispered with a laugh in Kokichi’s ear and pointed to the way Saki and Kazu were whispering to each other. For a moment, Kokichi felt a bit bad that her sisters would most likely annoy her late into the night with what seemed to be a tiny crush on Kaede but despite her embarrassment, she didn’t seem to mind too much.

“Alright guys, let’s head out!” Kokichi announced, grabbing Rantaro’s hand and leading the group. They raced past Kirumi and out to the front of the house where the limo was parked, the engine quietly grumbling. As they slid inside, Kokichi leaped into Rantaro’s lap and flung an arm around his neck.

“You should let me sleepover tonight.” He chuckled and Rantaro raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not opposed to it but what do you have up your sleeve?”

Kokichi gasped and held his chest, “Ranty is a pervert. You were thinking naughty thoughts weren’t you?”

“What do you—?”

“Jeez, I’m not some hormonal kid who wants sex all the time Ranty!”

“But we haven’t even—“

“But you were thinking that when I asked to sleepover.”

“I…” Rantaro drifted off, face turning a light shade of pink and Kokichi laughed.

“Just teasing Ranty. Seriously though, let me sleepover?”

[5hfanfiction]

i have questions for u

Summary: Lauren hears the song for the first time.

“Why did you leave me here to burn? I’m way too young to be this hurt,”

-        I Have Questions, Camila Cabello

xxx

Nothing else beats a good sleep.

Especially when you’ve got a tight schedule like Lauren.

She enjoys what she does in the industry, with interviews and performances here and there, recording sessions and the like. It’s fulfilling for her to be able to go this far in her career, so it’s quite hard to envision what her life would be if she hadn’t taken a leap of faith when she had the guts to audition for X-Factor. No doubt the best decision she has ever made.

But being in this line of work isn’t as glamorous as it seems.

And by tight schedule, it really does mean tight (especially with the new album coming up) that there’s barely enough time for the girls to get a wink of sleep. Lauren swears she could go insane at any point, but she signed up for this so she’s going to take what she’s going to get. Of course the girls fought for their hard-earned breaks and day-offs, being worked to the bone is just plain abuse. Fortunately, their manager would always hear them out, calling the higher-ups in no time requesting for their much needed break.

“Charlie, you’re the best!”

“I love you!”

“You’re laundry’s on me, Charliebear.”

“Well, guess it’s time for bed.”

Despite it being only a quarter to eight in the evening, Lauren retreats back to her bedroom in the hotel suite that they are currently staying at. The moment her body hits the soft mattress, she’s dead to the world as she finally succumbs to sleep. She doesn’t make it for dinner since the other girls know that waking her up would be similar to disturbing a bear during its hibernation, a risk none of them are willing to take.

So the three mind their own business, do their own thing and leave Lauren in peace.

Or so she thought.

Lauren couldn’t remember whatever dream she’s having but she does remember hearing this loud music in her dream so she starts searching for it then—BAM! She’s back in the real world, her tired muscles aching as she stretches her arms and legs. She turns her head towards the window which has its curtains drawn, exposing New York’s city lights. With the night still young and the sun still down, Lauren should still be very much asleep.

The music—a Beyonce song, she finally figures—is getting louder this time and Lauren buries her face and grumbles nonsense into it. She tries doing the good ol’ pillow-against-your-ears trick but it doesn’t work, so goes for another option and haphazardly scrambles around her bed for her phone. She does spot it on the nearby bedside table, groaning when she has to scoot closer to it, her body not wanting to move at all.

Her phone indicates that it’s only half past eleven and she’s even more pissed that she has only gotten around three hours of sleep. She opens a few of her messages, learning that both Ally and Normani are out somewhere so that leaves her with none other than Dinah (though Beyonce on full blast is a dead giveaway). Because she’s exceptionally lazy today, she calls Dinah instead of charging into her bedroom.

It saves energy and Lauren is low on it.

Not surprisingly, it goes straight to voicemail, either due to her phone being dead or being set on airplane mode.

“Goddamnit,” Lauren curses, discarding her phone onto the bed. The Latina gets up anyway, extremely groggy and pissy, gathering all the strength she needs in giving a Dinah an earful (if she’s feeling extra pissed off today she might even give her a full sermon in Spanish). She pads outside her room and into the common area dressed in a loose sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. When she’s a couple of feet away from Dinah’s room, she notices that the song has ended. Before it could proceed to the next, Lauren decides to simply barge in.

Then she realizes it’s locked.

Lauren lets out a loud and infuriated sigh, raising one hand in knocking position.

“DJ! Could you keep it down I’m—“

“Why?”

Her words are cut off.

Lauren’s fist hangs in the air motionless as her ears register the sound. It’s as if time has frozen in place and she’s left hearing the rasp of the voice echo inside her head all over and over again. Memories of the girl flashes into her head, both the good ones and the bad. With so many issues that have gone between them, she isn’t sure she could handle hearing the rest of this.

Something tells her she shouldn’t be listening.

Not right now at least.

She makes a move to leave.

”Did you leave me here to burn? I’m way too young to be this hurt.”

The voice sends shivers down her spine, her feet halting in its tracks. Her head whips back to Dinah’s door. She swears the voice is speaking to her as if she is physically there, telling her to stay.

And listen.

Her will to flee is strong, but the effect that the voice has on her is stronger that she is drawn back to where she stood outside Dinah’s room. Lauren feels like a metal being pulled by a magnet.

She wants to break free.

“I feel doomed in hotel rooms, Staring straight up at the wall Counting wounds and I am trying to numb them all.”

She continues to stand there idly, her feet refusing to follow what her mind is telling her to do while the rest of her senses go numb. It’s annoying how she’s so unsure. One second, she decides to go on but the next she’s just itching to leave. Her decisions continue to jump back and forth like a tennis match, and she can’t seem to choose which one has triumphed over the other.

Something burns in her throat, a kind of screech that begs for the song to stop.

Just stop.

“Do you care, do you care? Why don’t you care? I gave you all of me My blood, my sweat, my heart, and my tears Why don’t you care, why don’t you care? I was there, I was there, when no one would Now you’re gone and I’m here.”

She’s locked in a dreamlike state, similar to a sleep paralysis wherein she’s conscious that she’s awake yet she can’t bring herself to budge. It’s an internal battle that she’s struggling to fight, because her mind knows that maybe it’s time to face the music. The other part of her, however, stubborn and all, refuses to hear any of it.

But why is it so hard to walk away?

“I have questions for you Number one, tell me who you think you are You got some nerve trying to tear my faith apart (I have questions for you) Number two, why would you try and play me for a fool? I should have never ever ever trusted you (I have questions) Number three, why weren’t you, who you swore that you would be? I have questions, I got questions haunting me.”

While the chorus continues to play on, Lauren’s shoulders slump. She has finally given in to temptation, or more like she has accepted the fact that she has to listen to this sooner or later. But maybe it is too soon because everything feels heavy, her head, her chest, her eyes and there is nothing she could do about them. She’s frustrated over a song that’s getting to her so badly. Her emotions are getting messed up.

She is getting messed up.

“My, my name was safest in your mouth And why’d you have to go and spit it out? Oh, your voice, it was the most familiar sound But it sounds so dangerous to me now.”

“Camz…”

Lauren’s eyes widen as her name slips out from her and her hands immediately rush to cover her mouth. She hasn’t said her name in a while, it was so foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It’s an indescribable sensation to something she isn’t expecting. The corners of her eyes are dampening as she imagines what she would have felt when writing the verse.

So raw.

So vulnerable.

The words are filled with so much pain that it comes in like a series of punches into her stomach, though the one beating her up has already been stabbed multiple times in the chest. The muscles in her legs loosen and she drops to the carpeted floor, tears falling one by one with no indication of stopping, chest aching with every drop.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry, she says in her head.

But what is she sorry for?

Her sobs are silent throughout the second chorus, her hands still cupping over her lips. She releases all the tears, all the emotion she unknowingly had been holding in for God knows how long.

She wonders how crazy she must look if Ally and Normani catch her in this state.

“Do you care, do you care? Why don’t you care? I gave you all of me My blood, my sweat, my heart, and my tears Why don’t you care, why don’t you care? I was there, I was there, when no one was Now you’re gone and I’m here.”

She somehow regains composure and wipes away her tears with her sleeves. With a huff, she manages to stand up, the muscles in her legs recovering their strength. Her hand runs through her wild raven hair as she listens intently to the conclusion of the song, internally pleading to just get it over with. What she did not expect though, is to feel utterly and hopelessly broken by the next few lines.

“How do I fix it? Can we talk? Can we communicate? Can we talk? Do I wanna fix it?”

A huge lump forms at the base of her throat.

“I’m afraid of you.”

Fresh new tears gather at the sides of her eyes.

“Is it my fault?”

Lauren wants to scream.

“Do you miss me?”

She finally loses it and the tears come pouring out once more.

“I have questions.”

xxx

Guilty.

Lauren is guilty.

Guilt. That’s what she has been feeling all along the moment she hears the song. Somewhere, deep in her heart tells her that she has something to do with it. It has taken her around twenty minutes to draw out the conclusion while squatting outside Dinah’s room, back leaning against the door. Her face is still puffy with a tinge of pink on her nose and cheeks from all the crying, and her eyes a bloodshot red.

She should head back to her room before anyone sees her like this but she’s too tired to do anything.

Too emotionally exhausted to be exact.

She hasn’t counted the number of songs that has played since, but she knows that she has been there for some time. The music is still as loud as ever (Dinah should probably be deaf by now), yet it simply passes from one ear to the other. If her mind has been clouded with so many emotions minutes ago, now she is feeling blank.

Empty.

Nada.

It’s so empty that she hasn’t even noticed the music stopping.

“Woah—hey! Lauren?”

Lauren nearly falls on her back when Dinah suddenly opens the door, the younger girl jolting in surprise. The Latina quickly gets up on her feet and turns to her bandmate who watches her with confusion.

“Have you been crying?” Dinah places a comforting hand on Lauren’s arm, “You look horrible.”

“Oh, gee thanks,” Lauren rolls her eyes at Dinah’s honest comment, “And no I haven’t been crying, I just yawned before you opened.” She crosses her arms rather defensively, sporting her tough as nails persona.

“Sure, Jauregui. Sure,” the Polynesian pats her on the arm with a flat smile and pretends to take the bait. Instead of dwelling on the subject, Dinah knows when she shouldn’t cross the line so she changes the topic, “Why were you sitting outside my room, by the way?”

Lauren hasn’t anticipated for her to ask, her body twitching just the slightest bit upon hearing the question. She hopes Dinah hasn’t picked up anything on her body language because she really can’t deal with an interrogation or some kind of intervention right now.

“Your music was too loud,” she attempts to give her best excuse though she facepalmed herself internally at her lame try.

“Sooo you just had to sit outsi—wait a sec, I had my headphones on,” Dinah jabs her thumb over her shoulder to the direction of her bed where a MacBook Air sat with a pair of headphones above it. “How could you possible hear that?”

 “Uh…I think you had your speakers on too?” Lauren points at a bluetooth speaker on top of one of the bedside tables, “I tried yelling at you about it.” Well, tried. Technically, she hasn’t finished her nagging since it had been cut off but Dinah doesn’t have to know about that.

“Crap! Seriously? Again?” Dinah runs over to where the speaker lays and shuts it off, while Lauren enters the room with a low and tired laugh. The younger girl sits on the edge of her bed and pouts her lips apologetically, looking up at her, “Sorry about that Lolo. My iPad’s connected to the speaker and Spotify was open too so when I was playing songs on my MacBook I guess they both played…”

“That explains it,” Lauren says with humor in her voice. She was about to say something else but Dinah unexpectedly jumps up from her bed, startling the Latina a little who also jumps in place.

“Did you…” Dinah seems to hesitate, somehow waiting for Lauren to complete the question for her. She rephrases her question in her head multiple times, knowing how Lauren absolutely hated to be treated as if she’s some fragile child. There have been some occasions in the past wherein the girls have been reluctant on bringing up certain…issues but Lauren has not-so-calmly clarified that she can handle it.

Judging the state she has found her when she opened the door, Dinah guesses she couldn’t exactly handle it. This is why she can’t help herself but be cautious when it comes to her.

“Did I what..?” Lauren tilts her head like a confused puppy, oblivious to where this is heading.

Dinah clears her throat, “Did you hear it?”

Lauren stiffens. She blinks for a good few seconds and answers, “Yeah.”

“I was really curious so…”

“I sorta was too. She seems to be doing great.”

The mood is light and Dinah hasn’t expected for it to be this easy to talk about it. In fact, she had been holding her breath right before Lauren gave her her answer. It would have been easier if Mani or Ally were at her side. Thankfully, it didn’t end up going downhill.

“Yeah, she’s well,” Dinah nods in confirmation. Maybe talking about her will help. “We spoke a few days ago. She’s in New York for—“

“Oh, tha-that’s great! Like super good.”

Shit. Dinah immediately regrets mentioning that they are currently in the same city. She would take it back if she could, but the damage is already done and the mood shifts uncomfortably, causing Dinah to reach out for her bandmate who only retreats backwards.

“Lauren…”

“I’m gonna try and head back to bed.”

“Um, okay. I’m sorry if I—“

“It’s fine,” Lauren waves it off, feigning nonchalance, “I’m fine. I’ll just…go.” Dinah watches her intently but Lauren’s eyes look anywhere but the Polynesian’s. The older girl musters one last not-so-assuring smile then she shuffles awkwardly out. The door closes behind her as she leaves.

Dinah curses at herself.

xxx

Camila isn’t easy to forget.

Out of all the people, Lauren took the news the hardest. Their relationship may have changed in the months leading to her departure, but it didn’t make things any easier. Although there have been various situations that have hinted regarding Camila being the first one to go, the reality of it has been too incomprehensible to believe.

Lauren wishes she should have noticed the little things, like the way Camila would request for a break by camping in an unoccupied room to be by herself or how she would seem to be on the brink of tears during one of the rehearsals. Would a simple are you okay make a difference? She wonders. But that’s all she could do, wonder, because they all have moved on and the girls respect her decision, despite not being allowed to be seen in public together.

Management sucks.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”

Lauren is pulled out from her thoughts when Camila arrives in a pair of gray leggings and a Vehements hoodie, her attempt at a disguise which Lauren has to keep herself from laughing. The outfit isn’t exactly what you would call discreet, but the ponytail, glasses and Nike combo didn’t really seem very Camila so she figures she must have really planned this one out.

“I know you’re judging me,” Camila narrows her eyes, taking a seat across from her. The coffee shop they’re in is small but private, just what they both need so they wouldn’t have to worry about paparazzi tailing them. Luckily, only four other customers are enjoying their early morning coffee, coming from a generation that most likely did not recognize any of them. It’s been nearly a year since they have both been here, having discovered this hole in the wall a few years ago. “It’s the best that I can do and you seem pretty cosy yourself.”

The green-eyed girl glances at her FSU shirt and a pair of shorts and Doc Martens. She opts to be as casual as she could in order to avoid any unwanted attention, bringing with her a FSU ball cap as well. “I’m going for the whole college girl look.”

“Very patriotic,” Camila comments with a grin, taking in her shirt and cap. “All you need is your student loans and a packet of ramen noodles then you’re good to go.”

Lauren laughs heartily and shakes her head. What has she been so nervous about when things are going so well? It’s true that it might have been some time since the two have been alone, casually chatting and whatnot, but there’s something about their encounter that’s making her feel at ease. Maybe it’s the fact that Camila looks absolutely happy, smiling at the other end of the table with her elbows propped and chin resting on her intertwined fingers.

The sight has made Lauren realize that her leaving really is for the best.

Then she remembers why she’s called her here.

“Camila…” she starts, fumbling with her words in her head. Her fingers play with the condensation dripping from her iced drink, tracing random circular patterns on the cup. She shuts her eyelids for a second, then opens them as she exhales deeply. “Is there…is there something you’d like to tell me?” A sense of dread clouds her mind.

Camila knits her brows together, her hands dropping gently onto the cold metal table.

“Like…is there something you’d like to ask me?”

Camila’s eyes shift around behind her thinly-rimmed glasses, processing Lauren’s question. The vagueness of it didn’t give her any clue on what Lauren is trying to let on so she searches for some kind of clue in her surroundings, looking at Lauren every few seconds. But her former bandmate refuses to add more details, leaving Camila to scavenge around her memory for something she may have completely forgotten months ago.

Then it hit her.

“Oh, Lauren…”

Lauren’s head snaps up to meet her beautiful face. No bags, no tiny creases on her forehead, no indication of stress and upcoming anxiety attack. She hasn’t seen her be this radiant in a while, probably her days in Fifth Harmony have taken it away from her. But now she has regained her usual glow, one that shined so bright she could outshine the sun.

“W-what?” Lauren asks dumbly. Dealing with Camila is thrice as complex as dealing with herself. Sometimes she thinks she knows what’s going through her head, other times she is left to crack her cryptic expressions that could have been masking her real emotions. Now, however, the smile that barely reaches her cheeks and the warm brown eyes that have melted her heart since day one are making zero sense to her.

Is she smiling because she’d rather not talk about it?

Was it a mistake bringing it up?

“I wrote that like, two years ago,” Camila says, half-embarrassed as if someone stumbled upon her middle school diary.

“Yeah but I just think—hold on a sec,” Lauren stuffs her hand in her shorts’ pocket as her iPhone vibrates indicating an incoming call. Great timing Charlie.

“Go ahead,” Camila gestures for her to take it.

The call lasts for about a minute or two with Lauren muttering a series of “Yeah”, “Uhuh” and “Okay” then ending it with “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” before sending Camila a sad smile, disappointed that their conversation and little reunion has been cut short.

 “Is everything okay?”

“Just have to meet up with one of the producers. I’m really sorry, Camila…” Lauren sighs. She retrieves a crisp five-dollar bill from her wallet and sets it onto the table. “Calling you then leaving so quickly.” Should I really leave?

“No biggie,” Camila dismisses it with a wave of her hand, flashing her freshly manicured nails, “I’m glad to see you though.”

“Me too.”

But Lauren doesn’t make a move to get up from her seat, her hands still gripping the metal armrests as if she is about to. Her feet, on the other hand, are stuck to the floor like it’s been superglued to the tiles. And her eyes, this time, are locked onto Camila’s and they just stare at each other in silence with Lauren’s heart beating a million miles per second.

 “Hey, you should really get going, Charlie wouldn’t want you to be late.”

Lauren nods weakly, carefully standing up. She would be lying if she would say that she would be satisfied going back to the hotel like this. The only way for her to be able to sleep tonight is to get things over with so she can get rid of the guilt that makes her stomach sink every chance it gets when she thinks about it.

Because Lauren had once been so significant in that aspect in Camila’s life that she has poured her heart and soul into a song. A song that she may have the answers to the questions it asks. The questions that have been haunting the poor girl for far too long.

As if reading her mind, Camila assures her “I promise you, you have nothing to be worried about.”

“Wait…what do you—“

“I’m sure you’re wondering… “

Camila is the girl whose heart she has broken, the lively spirit she may have destroyed.

Lauren is the girl whose heart has also been broken, whose heart was also taken away when she left.

But no matter the pain or damage she has caused, Lauren is just the girl whose heart Camila has also broken.

Not the person from her song.

“The song’s not about you, Lauren.”

xxx

The first time I listened to the song, I was on the brink of tears. And I couldn’t help but write this one. While dozens of people think that the song may be about Lauren, I’d also like to consider the possibility that it’s not.

I do hope you’ve enjoyed this as I have other songfics in mind.

have a great day and be nice to each other

-keeks

[itscooltobefanficy]

Feeling Alive- Part 6

Summary: Dance school!AU (or the Step Up/Pride and Prejudice mash up nobody asked for). Bucky Barnes is forced to take twelve hours of commercial dance classes to pass the year- and that just happens to be your regular weekly dance class.

Introduction

Part 1 (Slow Hands)

Part 2 (Stay)

Part 3 (There Will Come a Time)

Part 4 (Weapon of Choice)

Part 5 (Came Here For Love)

Where the Sky Hangs OR Strip That Down

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Chapter 7/?: Where the Sky Hangs

Word count: 2590

Back up in the word count and racing ever onwards! Although I’m only halfway through chapter twelve, so I might have to ease off the gas a bit (not to mention my other fics are crying out for attention), but don’t worry- we’re going to get to the end of this! But, for now, simply enjoy ;)

The next week, an unexpected heatwave rolls across the country: weather forecasters fan themselves, insisting it’s just a flash in the pan, and the students stumbling into the library at all hours now carry sunglasses and moan about the missed opportunities outside. Trapped in your office during shifts, you can’t help but sympathise. Still, the discomfort is almost worth it for the moment you come through the door each evening, kicking off your shoes and pulling on a pair of shorts with the windows thrown open and music blasting from your laptop. A certain someone, however, is not enjoying it at all.

B: I’m melting

You’re slowly recalibrating your brain from James to Bucky. Changing his name in your contacts helped a bit.

B: I hate this

B: this is hell

In fact, you get a message complaining about the heat pretty much every day. It’s like a regular touch-base; something to be expected. It makes you feel a whole different kind of warm inside.

On Wednesday, you manage to get the early shift, so you have plenty of time to come home and get ready before class. Half an hour before you leave, you get a group message from Wanda.

W: shorts ladies!!!!

You grin, relieved: the air con in the studio can’t really cope with these kind of temperatures. You wander across your flat and begin picking out your most breathable clothes (which happen to be very revealing. Not that you’re concerned about that. Not at all).

Ten minutes before you need to leave, you’re frantically texting Pepper.

Y: is the purple sb too much??

Then you pace anxiously waiting for a reply. You’re currently wearing the aforementioned purple sports bra- it’s one of your favourites, completely comfortable and a vibrant colour- and you can’t help but scrutinise it with every pass in the small square mirror by the door. Wanda always dances in a sports bra… But that’s different. That’s Wanda, who has abs of steel and body confidence a mile high. You’re you.

P: I’m sure it’s fine! I’m wearing my green one.

You sigh, then yelp when you check the time. You don’t have time to change now, and anyway, at least you won’t be the only one. You grab your bag and hurtle out the door.

Outside, the sun is still beating down, despite the lateness of the evening. Even though you feel slightly self-conscious walking down the street with this much of you exposed, you’re glad to be dressed in lightweight clothes. To your relief, when you draw in sight of the bus stop, you can see that Nat is also dressed in a pair of black shorts and a crop top.

“Hey!” You stick your arm up and wave. Then you give a cheeky smile as Bucky turns towards you. “Enjoying the weather?”

“How can you even ask that?” He growls, and you laugh. Nat smiles brightly.

“Makes me feel almost human,” Sam says, “After being cooped up in the studio all day.”

“Good to get some vitamin D, Buck,” Steve claps his friend on the shoulder, and gets a swift jab below the ribcage for his trouble.

“You were in the studio all day? That sounds rough.” You adjust your bag on your shoulder as the bus comes grumbling up behind you.

“Yeah, things are pretty intense at the moment,” Steve says. “Big round of auditions coming up.”

You pull a sympathetic face, even as your stomach drops a few inches. As you walk to your spot at the back of the bus, the other four continuing to chat, you find yourself withdrawing from the conversation as a horrible, logical thought occurs to you. Auditions mean contracts; contracts mean jobs; and jobs mean- well, jobs mean them leaving. Mean Bucky leaving. To dance on the world’s stage. Of course, they’d said that they were intending to go professional- but, for whatever reason, the reality of that hadn’t sunk in.

They would be leaving to pursue their dream, you tell yourself, firmly. That’s more important than anything. Certainly more important than any half-fledged imagining that had yet to happen between you and Bucky.

Something seizes hold of your heart at that moment. The sunshine flares through the window; Nat throws back her head and laughs, as Bucky looks on, grinning. The air feels warm as you breathe it in.

I get caught up in your heart-strings,

Way up, where all of the sky hangs,

I’ll take all that I can get,

Just don’t make me go…

And you decide to just let things run where they will. To take whatever chance that comes your way. Bucky looks at you, and the spark in his bright eyes makes you want to smile and jump to your feet and run all the way up to the moon. Surely that’s worth taking a risk on?

~~

Warmup and blocking passes in a blur, before you separate, once again, to review the routines you went over last week. All those hours practicing in front of the oven paid off- Weapon of Choice goes down without a hitch. Then Wanda’s calling for you all to come back together.

“Time to make those brains work for a change! Let’s go back to Stay. Solo to start with- I don’t trust you that much.”

You snort, but your heart has kicked up a gear. It might be today…

“Get ready!” Wanda calls, then the music begins to play.

Wanda has a great deal of criticism to hand out after that first run-through, (“How many times must I tell you to extend, Y/N?!”) so it takes them a while longer to get to a state where she’s happy to partner you up. Then she leans back, folding her arms and scrutinising you all. Her gaze meets yours, and you recognise the glint within them all too well. It means trouble to come.

“Anna, are you happy to partner Steve? Y/N, I think you can partner with James. We’ve got time for it once more, people! Don’t let me down!”

Swallowing, you look for Bucky, who raises his eyebrows at you as though to say- would you look at that? You screw up your courage and walk over to him.

“Ready to have fun?” You ask, hoping your voice sounds normal. He ticks his head from side-to-side.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Just don’t drop me,” You joke, and that makes him crack a smile. Then Wanda’s telling you all to get in position and you’re hurrying to comply.

The first part is simple unison work- but the hardest thing about unison work is making it look perfectly in-sync. You find yourself forgetting your nerves as you scrutinise your reflection in the mirror, comparing it to Bucky’s every move. There’s something… Off.

The partner work is the same. You forget how close he is as you chew over the problem. Something just isn’t matching up. (The backbend goes off without a hitch, though, which is a relief). When you reach the end of the dance, you’re surprisingly deflated.

“You’re frowning,” Bucky says, but before you can answer him (not that you know how to answer him), Wanda waves her hands in the air.

“Excellent work, guys! I’ll leave the sound system on, you can dance to whatever you want. Or,” She fixes you with a stare, “Do some stretches. Whatever. I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

She turns on her heel and disappears through the door.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice is puzzled, and you turn back to him. He’s looking at you like he’s trying to work you out. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, it’s just…” You chew on your bottom lip, then turn back to the mirrors. “Run through that unison section again?”

The pair of you ignore the music playing as you examine your reflections through the moves; still, you can’t pinpoint what’s not right. Then, as you look off to the side, you spot Clint and Pepper practicing together, and it hits you like a train. You almost want to laugh out loud. Instead, you rub your hand across your sweaty face and stare up at Bucky’s face.

“OK- I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you’re too stiff.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mean flexible-stiff, I mean... Ugh, I don’t know how to phrase this without sounding like I’m in a Step Up movie. You need to let go! Like, look at this-” You drop into a squat and roll your hips easily in time to the beat. Bucky’s eyebrows draw further together as he watches you. “You should feel it. The music.”

Still nothing but confusion from Bucky. You sigh in exasperation.

“It’s like a sensation inside you. Like a fire burning up. Flaring out.” Still nothing. “I can’t believe you’re making me say all this ridiculous shi-izzle and it’s not getting anywhere!”

“No, I know what you mean,” Bucky says, immediately looking more apologetic, “I just- this isn’t my kind of music, maybe?”

“It’s not just that,” You say, realising something else. “You’re too stiff here.” You place your hand on your abdomen to illustrate. “Like, yeah, you need tension. But you need to be able to follow where the music leads. You’re not trying to impose your own will on the beat, you’re trusting in it.”

Bucky’s expression morphs into Really? You wave him away.

“Like I said, making me say all this ridiculous stuff. Clint!” You shout, frustrated. “Help me with this one!”

“My services are required?” Clint wanders over.

“He can’t feel the music,” You put your hands on your hips. “Please help. I’ve tried explaining it.”

Clint shakes his head, tuts, then effortlessly spins you round so you’re face to face with Bucky. “That’s because you can’t explain it, Y/N. Pep, put on that Liam Payne song, would you?”

“Clint,” You hiss, “This was not-”

“Relax, Y/N.” Clint’s grin does nothing to settle your nerves, not to mention having Bucky so close is throwing off your logic circuits anyway. “Just shut your eyes. Now, Bucky, I want you to copy what she does.”

“Simple as that?” Bucky sounds suspicious.

“Yep. Simple as that.”

“Now, Clint?” Pepper calls, and you look up at Bucky with the most apologetic expression you can muster.

“Now.”

The beat throbs out of the speakers.

“You know I’ve been taking some time

And I’ve been keeping to myself

I had my eyes upon the prize

Ain’t watching anybody else…”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, then let your eyelids slide shut. And before you know it, the music has bloomed inside your abdomen and it’s directing your every move. Your hips swing, circle, jerk in time to the pulse of the drumbeat. Your arms sketch out embellishments. This is how it should be: easy, like breathing, like running. You daren’t open your eyes, though.

“Good!” Clint’s saying, “Don’t try to match her movements like that. Make it your own, but centre it round her. Yes! Better! Now you’re dancing like you were dancing last week. God, I’m good!”

“You know I love it when the music stops,

But come on, strip that down for me, baby.

Now there’s a lot of people in the crowd,

But only you can dance with me.

So put your hands on my body,

And swing that round for me.

You know I love it when the music stops,

But come on, strip that down for me.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Somebody whoops as you hit your final pose, and your eyes fly open in surprise: to find Bucky inches away, mirroring you exactly- and the tension that had been holding him back has entirely gone.

“Yes!” You shriek, jumping up with a fist-pump before holding up your hand for a high-five. Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he slaps his palm to yours.

“Um, who just solved your problem?” Clint wants to know, and you laugh before tackling him in a hug.

“Yeah, you’re a genius, we all bow down to you- but that was so great!”

You spin back to Bucky, feeling like you’re riding a wave of excitement.

“I didn’t even know you could do that,” Steve says, looking at his friend with mock suspicion.

Bucky snorts. “Don’t think I knew I could do that,” He mutters, and you grin widely, nudging him with your elbow before you can stop yourself. He smirks at you. “You still need to stretch.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “You had to burst my bubble, didn’t you?” Nonetheless, you sit on the floor and begin the stretch Bucky showed you last week.

“Shall I grab our stuff?” Steve asks.

“How come you don’t need to stretch?” You say, in an accusatory tone. Steve gives a smug grin.

“Because I take good care of my muscles, kid- yours is the bag next to Pepper’s stuff, right?”

You huff, but nod, and Steve wanders off. Finally, your attention is entirely devoted to Bucky, which is probably not the best idea, because you can finally fully notice the bright spots of colour in his cheeks, and the strands of hair that are escaping to curl over his forehead, and the fact that his eyes seem to have been (impossibly) turned up a couple of watts. He’s looking at you with that same expression: like you’re a puzzle, but one that’s causing him some frustration. For a moment, you sit (well, stretch) in silence.

“Do you normally dance with your eyes closed?”

Your stomach doesn’t so much drop as swoop. Admit it, a chorus of excited goblins chant inside your brain, admit it!

“Uh, no,” You say, dropping your eyes to the floorboards. “No- it’s kind of a- nervous habit?”

“You were nervous?” Bucky sounds- surprised. You look up, hoping the flush in your cheeks will say enough.

“Well, yeah. I was.”

Bucky’s expression opens instantaneously, a brief, sudden bloom that sets your heart racing- and then there are footsteps and Steve is dangling your bag over your head.

“Come on, you two. I want to get home at some point.”

“Mmm,” You say. It’s about all you can manage.

~~

The walk home passes in strange skips and jumps, as though your brain can’t hold onto everything that’s been going on. You find yourself zeroing on strange things: the cornflower blue of the dusky sky, the smell of car fumes and cooling air, the way Bucky keeps running his fingers through his hair to settle it this way or that. You feel as though you’re hovering on the edge of something; as though you’re poised, waiting, holding your breath.

As you turn into your road, Bucky looks across at Steve, his expression unreadable. Before you can decipher what just passed between them, Bucky clears his throat.

“Y/N, are you free this Friday?”

You frown.

“I- yeah. I’m free. Why?”

“It’s open practice,” Steve says, on your other side. “Fury opens up the school for people to come and watch us rehearse.”

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come?”

You don’t miss that Bucky said I. Your heart seems to have been filled with helium. “What, come and watch you dance?”

Bucky shrugs, while Steve says, wryly, “That’s the general idea.”

“Funny, Rogers. Yeah, I’d love to!” You allow enthusiasm to colour your tone, smiling widely. “I’ll see you on Friday, then!”

“You got it,” Bucky says, and you dash up the steps to your door feeling as light as a cloud, like you’re floating on air.

AN: I wanted to post this today because we are actually in the middle of a heatwave, and I’m with Bucky on this one- it’s hell. Anyway. Are you getting the feeling we’re starting to build up to something? Because if you are, then you’re right ;) Tag list as per usual. Thank you a bajillion times to all you wonderful people who have opted to engage with this story (and comment and send in sweet feedback aaaahhhhh AMAZING). (Also I know not everyone would be comfortable wearing a sports bra to work out in- it’s a small detail, but I get that not everyone will identify with that when reading).

Tag list:  @vintagesaph; @debzybrazy; @madeofstarsdust; @beingcrushedbysociety; @plumsforbuck2016; @buckybabybaby; @seb-styles; @youtube-obsessed-duh; @casdoesntunderstandthatreference; @sunnycolors; @imthemishamigo; @themarvelousmaximoffs; @blonde0n; @smaug-the-homedog; @gabby913; @sexyashmike; @fuckinxqueenx; @velociraptorinae; @frnkensteingrl; @tattooideasforthefuture; @inlovewithnovels; @ipaintmelodies; @whimsicaldreaming; @olicia-leeshy; @xxamix; @xxblackteabinchxx; @v-ickie; @imnegativetillbepositive; @lilythelionflower; @witchinghour24; @hollycornish; @lucyvaughan-omg-

Part 7

[klove0511]

At Any Cost Chapter 5

Sam had been comatose in Bobby’s panic room for just over 24 hours, and Dean thought he was going to go crazy if he didn’t do something. He’d used up the last of their African Dream Root in a failed attempt to enter Sam’s dreams, but Cas had informed him that it hadn’t worked because Sam wasn’t truly asleep. Without the grace holding him together, his soul, and therefore his mind, had likely fractured under the strain of his memories from Hell. Dean didn’t like sitting still, and he hated being told he couldn’t help Sam. Cas had been in and out all day, wanting to keep vigil with Dean, but constantly needing to talk to angels or deal with business in Heaven as they scrambled to figure out what Raphael planned to do with Sam’s grace. The obvious answer—open the Cage—wasn’t terribly helpful since no one seemed to know how he planned to do that.

Dean thought it might not matter. Since every other opening to the Cage had been on Earth, he reasoned this one would be too. All they needed to do was show up wherever he was and take Sam’s grace back. In the meantime, Dean wanted to try something to get Sam vertical again. If Cas could get him into Sam’s head, then maybe he could help Sam piece enough of himself together to wake up. Cas thought returning the grace to Sam would be enough to “fix” him and having him present when they took it back from Raphael would make the whole process a lot faster. There was also the small matter of defeating Raphael once and for all, which Cas was apparently convinced Sam could do. Dean wasn’t sure what gave him that idea, but if it was true, then it begged the question: had Raphael targeted Sam because he needed the grace to open the Cage or just because he saw Sam as a threat?

Either way, they needed to get Sam walking.

Dean posed the question to Cas the next time he appeared. “Can you get me in there?” he asked. Cas said nothing, just narrowed his eyes at Dean, so Dean explained his reasoning.

Cas hesitated. “I can. You may not like what you see. His experience in Hell was likely very different from yours.”

Dean stared right back at the angel. “I don’t care.”

With no time to delay beyond getting Dean settled on a cot of his own, they began immediately. Cas pressed his palm against Dean’s forehead, then reached for Sam’s shoulder. The panic room melted away, and Dean found himself in…a porn video?

He looked around. They appeared to be in a motel room, familiar in the way they all were, but it didn’t ring any specific bells for him. On the bed were three large, naked men. After he got over the initial shock of being confronted with three guys having some very athletic sex, he realized it was him, Sam, and Cas. Sam was being spit-roasted, with Dean taking him from behind while Cas was doing an admirable job of fucking Sammy’s face. Sam, for his part, seemed to be enjoying himself, judging by the obscene noises he was making and the way his impressive erection bobbed with every thrust. They finished simultaneously, and the scene morphed around them. Different motel room, similar scenario. This time, Cas was flat on his back while Sam rode his cock. As they watched, dream-Dean approached from behind and worked himself into Sam alongside Cas. Sam was flushed and groaning, clearly enjoying himself.

“Damn, Sammy. Been holding out on me,” Dean breathed. He was achingly hard himself, just from watching for the last minute.

Cas’s strangled voice startled him out of his reverie. “This is a…pleasurable situation?”

Dean glanced at the angel and snickered. He’d never seen Cas so flustered before. “Yeah. This is a pleasurable situation so long as everyone agreed to it.”

Another glance told Dean the angel still had questions. “Dude, no. I am not getting into the protocols of kinky sex with you right now. Ask Sam when this is all over.” He checked the room again. “Speaking of Sam, what are we doing in his spank bank?”

Cas frowned. “The damage has made Sam’s mind difficult to navigate. This was the most coherent section I could find.”

Dean attempted to parse that into something resembling English. “You mean we found him? That,” he pointed to the Sam currently pounding dream-Cas into the bed while dream-Dean jacked off in the chair watching them, “is really Sam? He’s been having wet dreams while I was out there worrying he was dying?”

Cas glared at Dean. “Most likely, he has retreated here because the rest of his mind has become a hellscape.”

Dean considered that, then returned his gaze to the scene. He sighed. He hated interrupting a good sex dream, but he needed to get Sam conscious ASAP. If they were lucky, maybe he’d be able to make it up to him later.

“Sam. Hey, man, I need you to wake up.”

Sam didn’t respond. Dean wasn’t sure if he was just ignoring him or if the fractured state of his mind was preventing Dean from interacting with him. Either way, Dean moved closer to the bed, placing himself in Sam’s eyeline. Reaching out, he gripped Sam’s shoulder. Sam startled and stared at Dean, before his eyes began to glaze over and he lost himself to the rhythm again.

“Hey, no. Come on, Sam. Stay with me,” Dean said, twisting Sam’s shoulders around to face him. “This isn’t real.”

Sam laughed darkly. “Of course it’s not real. You think my brother would ever want to do this with me after what I’ve done? Or that Castiel would? Me, Lucifer’s vessel, Ender of the World?” He snorted derisively.

Dean blinked in surprise. “Ok, there is so much wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start. But the point is that you’re going to die if you don’t wake up.”

Sam shrugged. “At least I’ll die happy,” Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh for the love of—Sam, I’m real. That Cas, over there, is real. I can tell you for a fact that you can have at least some of this fantasy in real life if you’d just wake up.”

“My brother thinks I’m a freak. But now that the grace is gone, I’m human again. It’s better this way.”

“The hell it is.” Dean thought he might be sick. Was this what Sam thought of him? Of them?

Sam refocused on Dean and wrinkled his forehead. The naked bodies dissipated, though the motel room remained. Dean tried to hold onto hope. This was progress, right?

“Sam, I just—just—got you back. Is this whole situation bizarre? Yes. Of course it is. Even by our standards it’s weird knowing my brother is some sort of half-angel now. But you know what? I don’t care. I would rather have you alive and by my side than—” Dean spread his hands. “Than anything. You name it.”

Sam watched him give his speech, then sadly looked out the door. “I can’t go out there.”

Dean looked from Sam to the door and back again. “Why? Because your memories of Hell are out there?”

Sam gave him a tight nod.

“Sam, I’ve been to Hell. I know you can do this.” He smiled. “You were always the stronger one of us.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, you’ve been to Hell. Dean, that was just the rack.” Dean was taken aback by the pitiless look on Sam’s face, but then his expression softened a little. “Sorry. I know how horrible that was for you. So, please, try to understand this: I looked forward to the days he put me on the rack and just cut. Those were my good days.”

Dean felt nauseous remembering his time in Hell. He couldn’t imagine something worse, much less what would be so much worse that the rack was the preferable option. He’d been willing to torture souls, to do anything, really, to escape that pain. He thought he could, maybe, face that again if he had to, but there weren’t words for what he was asking of Sam. He swallowed hard, realizing there was nothing he could say that could convince Sam. He was going to lose him. The knowledge hit him in the gut, and he thought he might throw up. He turned to Cas, who had been quiet till now. A silent conversation passed between them, then Cas spoke.

“I am sorry that we are asking this of you, Sam.” His voice was rough. “However, you must understand. Raphael will use your grace as a conduit to reach Michael and Lucifer. They will find new vessels, and then they will fight. You know best what that will look like for Earth.”

Sam shook his head. “So go get the grace. What do you need me for?”

Castiel hesitated. “To defeat Raphael.”

Sam started to laugh, the looked at Castiel’s serious face. Dean couldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t.”

Dean cringed. “You can. You tossed him across the yard the first time you fought him, and you did that injured and without training. Now? I know you can kick his ass.”

Sam’s eyes were wild, panicked. “Then bring me the grace after you take it back from Raphael. We all know that even if I wake up right now I’ll be useless without it.”

Castiel shook his head. “That is too risky.” He continued speaking over Sam’s spluttered protests. “If Raphael escapes, it will be impossible to track him. He will not let his presence be known, and if he ambushes you again he will not be so foolish as to let you live. Bringing you to this fight as you are is dangerous, exceedingly so. However, this is a risk we must take if we hope to succeed. You need to be ready to accept your grace as soon as we have it, thus you must leave this room and face your memories. We cannot do this without you, Sam.”

After a long pause where Dean thought Sam was going to continue to argue, Sam gave a small nod. Dean tried not to notice how pale his little brother looked as he turned to face the door. He spared a glance at Cas while Sam steeled himself, then he clapped a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“We’ll see you on the other side,” Dean said, offering Sam his best proud brother expression.

He thought Sam looked marginally less queasy as he swallowed hard and muttered, “Yeah. See you.”

Dean wished he could do this for Sam, wished it didn’t need to be done. He didn’t bother wishing Sam had never gone to Hell in the first place. It was done. He couldn’t change the past; he’d tried. But this, yeah, he wished there was a viable alternative to making Sam suffer for them again. It didn’t change the fact that he was damn proud of Sam as he pulled open the door and walked into Hell, head held high.

 Sam wasn’t sure where he was. Or when. Or who. He thought he was Sam, but he might be Lucifer. Only that didn’t make sense. He hurt. Angels didn’t hurt, right?

Or, or maybe they did. He thought he remembered screaming. Or heard screaming. Not human screaming. Was it him? Or just a memory? He felt so lost, and he just wanted his Dean. Or Cas. If this was Hell, maybe Cas would come to lead him out again.

Wait. Again. Sam latched onto that life raft of a word like a drowning man. He could remember getting out of Hell. Slowly, he managed to piece together enough of his shattered consciousness to realize he was probably awake and in Bobby’s panic room.

The panic room had been a particular favorite in Hell thanks to Sam’s bad memories of detoxing in there, so he wasn’t 100% sure this wasn’t one of Lucifer’s illusions. The tumbler of whiskey on the table that suggested Dean had been here recently helped, but the otherwise empty room didn’t. Maybe Dean had just stepped out. Everyone needed to pee eventually.

Momentarily buoyed by this thought, Sam levered himself to sitting with a groan. He wondered how long he’d been out. Obviously not long enough to justify a hospital, but with an angel for a friend, that didn’t mean much. His body was stiff, more than usual for a morning after a hard sleep. As he worked to organize his thoughts, he realized half of his discomfort was simple thirst and hunger. Easy enough to fix, and maybe he’d find Dean. He had a bad feeling that Dean should have been back by now.

The world tilted dangerously as Sam stood, but steadied after a moment. He carefully shuffled to the door and was relieved to find it unlocked. Not punishment, just safety. For a moment, panic spiked through his brain. What if he was alone because everyone else was gone? They’d been attacked while he slept, safe in the warding of the panic room. Pain bloomed in his chest as he struggled for air, and darkness ate at the edges of his vision.

Suddenly, hands landed on his shoulders, manhandling him into whatever position they wanted. Lucifer, his mind supplied. Sam fought back with all the strength he could muster, but it wasn’t enough. There was shouting, then a cool breeze and the smell of thunderstorms, then blackness.

The next time Sam woke, he was not alone. Dean and Cas were both there, carefully watching him. It was embarrassing, but Sam had to admit he was grateful. The world felt more solid this time around.

“Easy, Sammy.” Dean spoke as Sam slowly shifted himself upright on the cot. His hand on Sam’s back felt warm and reassuring.

“What happened?” Sam asked, realizing he still wasn’t sure what was real and what had been dream.

Dean and Cas shared a glance, then Dean asked, “What do you remember?”

Tough question, when reality felt disturbingly shaky. He remembered a lot, most of it bad. He shoved away the memories of his time in Hell for the moment. Most recent was…Lucifer? He wasn’t sure about that one and didn’t want to ask, so he opted for the most recent memory he had any confidence in. “Raphael jumped me in our motel room.”

Another shared look between Dean and Cas, and Sam was starting to get annoyed by that. This time, Cas broke the silence. “How are you feeling, Sam?”

“Hungry, thirsty. Not bad, considering.” He hoped that trend was going to continue, but he wasn’t optimistic enough to expect it. “How long was I out?”

“Two days,” Dean said, then he went over the plan to take on Raphael. Sam cringed inwardly as he realized he hadn’t imagined Dean and Cas’s visit in his mental landscape.

“You guys were really in my head,” he said flatly. “I didn’t—You w—” He stopped, swallowing both confession and apology. They weren’t supposed to know about those fantasies. Even if Dean had felt something once, or even still did, Cas had never been part of that equation. Besides, Sam was all too aware of how the angel felt about him. Still, he couldn’t apologize for loving them. He sighed, head hanging.

“Sam,” Castiel said, voice full of emotion that Sam couldn’t begin to parse out, “What do you remember about how you escaped Hell?”

“Noth—" The denial died on his lips. He did remember, possibly always had if he’d just looked close enough. It was easier to remember without the grace, though the memories of Lucifer’s torture were constantly threatening to drown him. “You pulled me out.”

“Do you know why?” Cas said, kneeling in front of Sam and gently tilting his head until their eyes met.

Sam managed to maintain eye contact as he shook his head.

“I did it because I could not bear the thought of this world without you in it. I am sorry that I took so long to reach you, that I have been distant lately.”

Sam was speechless. That sounded like—but no. That wasn’t possible. “Cas?” he asked, annoyed at how breathless he sounded.

The angel’s piercing blue gaze never wavered.

Sam glanced at Dean, but his brother’s expression was unreadable. He didn’t look surprised though, so the two of them must have talked while Sam was out. Tentatively, Castiel’s hand came up to cup Sam’s cheek. Sam would have been ashamed of how he leaned into the touch if he could think clearly, but his mind was a fog of disbelief and quavering hope.

“May I?” Cas asked, eyes flicking down to Sam’s mouth.

Sam nodded, and Castiel surged up to press their lips together. Sam’s arms wrapped around the angel while Cas’s hands buried themselves in Sam’s hair. Sam lost himself in the feeling of Cas surrounding him, his grace like a gentle breeze pushing against the madness lurking at the edges of Sam’s mind. He reveled in it, hardly daring to believe that this one thing he thought impossible was really happening.

Dean loudly cleared his throat, and they broke apart, panting. Sam managed to tear his eyes away from Cas long enough to check on Dean and caught him adjusting himself in his pants. Huh. That was not something Sam had been expecting. He felt light-headed, realizing he might actually get a chance at having it all, every last thing he wanted. It felt too good to be true.

With that thought, a wave of cold terror washed over him as his mind happily supplied dozens of scenarios Lucifer had manipulated him with in Hell. Scenarios in which Dean or Cas had saved him. Scenarios in which he was happy, loved and safe until Lucifer threw back the curtain and revealed the lie for what it was. Son of a bitch. He’d thought for sure this time. He’d thought he’d gotten past this stupid, weak, pathetic hope. Dean might have loved him enough once, but not since Sam started the Apocalypse. Cas—well, Castiel had never been subtle about his opinion of Sam. No way this was real, which meant—Sam felt his chest tighten as he struggled for air.

 Watching Sam and Cas making out had been unexpectedly hot, as had the lust blown look Sam had leveled at him when he spotted Dean’s erection. The arousal in the air had only lasted a moment though, as Dean watched Sam’s expression falter. He felt his own eyebrows gather in concern that swiftly transformed into alarm as Sam doubled over, hyperventilating.

“Sam?” he said, moving to his brother’s side. “Sam! Cas, what the hell is going on?”

The angel looked stricken where he crouched between Sam’s knees, but he didn’t answer.

Ignoring him, Dean pulled Sam closer, trying to get Sam to make eye contact with him. With Sam pressed to his chest he could hear his little brother muttering nonsense about Lucifer and Hell and how nothing was real. Christ, the kid couldn’t be awake for five minutes without having a panic attack. This was a stupid plan that was going to get them all killed. Cas brushed his fingers against Sam’s forehead, and Sam slumped into Dean’s hold. Dean closed his eyes and clung to his brother while he addressed Cas.

“This isn’t going to work. He can’t fight like this.”

He didn’t look, but he could feel Cas’s resignation in the air. “He needs his grace.”

“We don’t know that’ll help.” Dean frowned, reluctant to voice the fears chasing around his head but needing to know the angel’s contingency plan. “What if—”

“It will work. It must.” Cas’s voice was hard, and Dean wondered if that was how he sometimes sounded to other people. Cas was right, of course. Getting Sam’s grace back to him had to work. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. Still, they obviously needed to revise their plan to make sure Sam didn’t get killed before they had a chance to get his grace back to him.

 Hours later, Dean shook Sam’s shoulder to rouse him. He looked adorable asleep, but it was time. They finally had a lead on Raphael and they couldn’t afford to wait. Dean saw when Sam’s mind fully clicked back online, the fuzziness from angel-induced sleep clearing as he recognized where he was. Dean didn’t say anything at first, not wanting to provoke another meltdown. He could see the question on Sam’s face, but he wasn’t sure if it was “what happened” or “is this real,” and Dean didn’t want to know. Probably would make the world seem more fake if he addressed the issue, and his goal at the moment was to get Sam upstairs with the others without needing an angel intervention.

Annoyed with how off-kilter he felt, he shoved a glass of water at Sam and half-growled, “We’re good to go, sleepyhead. You coming?” He watched Sam think, trying to decipher the context behind the question. Dean realized his misstep almost immediately. Sam’s mind was a minefield, making him navigate it was just asking for trouble, so he added, “Time to throw down with Raphael, get your mojo back.” To his relief, the confusion in Sam’s expression cleared, replaced with determination.

They met the others upstairs, and before the atmosphere could get too tense and awkward, Cas zapped them to a cemetery. Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it. He recognized this place even though he’d only been here once, nearly two years ago. Stull. He swallowed. Cas was right about one thing at least. This was ending today.

Raphael had an altar set up and covered in spell ingredients. Dean couldn’t see the vial of Sam’s grace, but he was sure it was there. The group split, Bobby dragging Sam behind cover while Dean and Cas faced down the archangel. Half a dozen angels flanked Raphael. Dean steeled himself. Outnumbered didn’t begin to cover this scenario. He just hoped Cas could piss Raphael off enough that he went for pain and not the instant kill Dean knew he was capable of.

He shouldn’t have worried. Castiel vanished, reappearing above Raphael. “Hey, assbutt,” he said, dropping a holy oil Molotov on yet another archangel. It was becoming his signature move. That should buy them some time, at least. Dean tried to run to the table—the grace was definitely there, Cas wouldn’t have risked torching it if he didn’t have eyes on it—but he was stopped by two of the angels. They clashed, and it took all of Dean’s attention to stay alive. Getting to that altar was not going to happen, not before Raphael pulled himself together enough to atomize them.

 Sam tried to tune out the sound of fighting behind him, but it was impossible. He knew what was happening, but his memories of Michael and Lucifer’s futile clashes in those early years were causing such a visceral reaction that all he could do was rock in place and hum. He hated it. He was not this broken thing, hiding while his family fought for him. Maybe died for him. That—that was unacceptable. He became aware of Bobby next to him, tangling with an angel that had decided the two of them were easy prey.

Sam took a deep breath and surged to his feet. He could do this. He—he needed an angel blade. Cas had already downed two angels, bringing the numbers more in their favor. Sam could see their swords glittering in the dry grass beside their vessels’ bodies.

He lurched over, tuning out a phantom Michael whispering how useless he was. He knew he could do this. He could fight with Dean, protect the people he loved. He didn’t need to be whole to do that. With each step he regained confidence and strength, finally plunging his blade into an angel that had been trying to stab Dean in the back while he finished off another.

Sam grinned at his brother, emotions soaring with the rush of adrenaline. Lucifer whispered, “I broke you,” but it was so easy to ignore in this moment. These were the people that put him back together. The sound of wings and a look of horror on Dean’s face broke the moment.

Sam didn’t register flying across the cemetery, just the pain that exploded through his head and back as he collided with a gravestone. The world spun, and stars erupted across his vision when he tried to move. Breathing hurt, moving hurt. Even sitting still hurt so much he struggled to keep from vomiting. Dimly, he recognized the cold numbness spreading through his lower half as a very bad thing, but it was difficult to remember why. The liquid iron dripping from his mouth was also bad, and contributing to his nausea, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Continuing to draw shaky, painful breathes was taking every ounce of his concentration. Darkness crowded his vision, and the only clear thought he recognized in his muddled brain was, Not yet.

Back to Masterpost

[writing--ramblings]

Protector Pt.3

Characters: Derek x Reader, Isaac, Argent.

Summary: Derek enlists the help of his old friend. Argent and the reader get some alone time and Derek comes to a realization.

A/N: Hello lovies! I know it’s been over a month since I’ve updated but I’m getting there. I hope this makes up for it!!! It’s over 4k words.

P.s. not as much login in this chapter but, it’s still alright. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek was staring straight ahead at the road as he drove, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. You’d been driving in silence for about an hour now.  

“What’s a Duecalion?” You asked gently. His mouth twitched upwards.

“He’s a… I guess you could say he’s a person.” His eyes narrowed “He’s one of the most demented people I’ve ever come in contact with.” He took his eyes off the road to glance at you, “The man calls himself the demon wolf.” You scoffed at that.

“His name is Duecalion. He was born to be evil.” You said as you looked out the window. Derek laughed lightly. You listened as his laughter died down and sighed. You had so many questions.

“Thank you.” He said reaching over to lace your fingers together. You turned your head to glance at him once again. “For being okay with all of this.”  

“I’m not sure I am.” You told him honestly with a squeeze of your hand. “I need to know something. Dead bodies don’t just turn up, and you told me yourself that you’re involved with these deaths. I need to know.” You didn’t even mention how weirded out by the fact that there was magic ash that kept people out of places. He took his eyes off the road once again and saw how serious you were. His eyes softened.

“Those kids that died, I knew three just like them, they were… recruits of mine… All fitting the same description. Two of them died because of me.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter and you heard a crack.

“Derek..” your voice barely above a whisper when you spoke. His grip on the steering wheel was loose almost immediately and he straightened up, as if remembering that he wasn’t supposed to act this way. You’d never seen him this stressed.

“The last one though,” he began

“Isaac.” You offered

“Right. I���ve been looking for him for some time. Which is why we’ve been traveling so much. Last I tracked he was headed East. I thought we could beat him and cut him off in Nebraska, but he hasn’t arrived yet, plus there’s been a lot of activity in the area.” He sighed. “Seems Isaac’s been killing. But, he’s not the type. I need to find the truth”

“What does this have to do with Duecalion?” You questioned.

“My thoughts exactly.” He said gruffly. “The fact that he was so close to you tonight.” He was back to gripping the steering wheel.

“That was Duecalion?!” You broke him out of his trance and he nodded. “How does a blind man become the most devious person you’ve ever met?” You asked more to yourself than him.

“He’s not always blind” Derek said simply.

What the hell does that mean? Your questions were back.

—- The clock read 1 AM when you looked up from the game on your phone. Derek was enjoying the soft music coming out of the speakers and you were getting restless once you lost your game for the eighth time. The situations going on in your real life were much more interesting. You opened your mouth but you were cut off by Derek.

“Don’t say it.”

“What?” You whined.

“‘Are we there yet?’” he did an overly high version of your voice.

“I wasn’t!” He gave you a look and you crossed your arms “Well? Are we?” You grumbled as he burst out laughing, you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face.

“We’ll be there soon. We’re meeting Argent at a bar so we can switch cars.” He said once he stopped laughing.

“And Argent is…?” You had no idea who this was. In all this time that you’ve been together you’ve never heard a mention of anyone named Argent. So why did he trust them after three dead bodies showing up?

“A friend. He’ll help us. We’ve been tracking Isaac together.” He told you quickly.

“So… He’s like you?” You asked, hoping to be able to get some more info about Derek. You sensed he still wasn’t telling her everything.

“No, he hunts those like me.” Derek said as if it didn’t matter.

“What?” Hunt? He’s not an animal. And why would he call him? “Do you trust him?”

“I trust him. I’ve known him for years.” He said firmly.

That was all the confirmation that you needed, a few minutes later you pulled into the seedy bar off the highway across from a truck stop so you figured the type of crowd you’d run into and prepared yourself once you both left the truck. You looked over at Derek as he did the same. You’d been in dive bars before so it’s not like this place was scary but, after today you weren’t taking any chances.

“Stay close” was all he said before pushing you behind him. You nodded and followed, gripping his hand as you did. Once at the door, you were hit with the stench of cigarettes, alcohol and marijuana. The place wasn’t too crowded but, it wasn’t dead either. Mostly truckers were inside however, a few women were scattered around.

You couldn’t help but feel self conscious as eyes trailed along your body, most of the men were watching you, all of the women watched Derek. It wasn’t like it was a rare occurrence for the both of you to be oggled, hell Derek told you how many of your neighbors eyes were glued to your ass the other night and how hard it was not to kill them, you didn’t know if he was serious. However, you were not used this many people at once, it was like you were under a spotlight. Neither was Derek apparently because he was growling. Literally growling.

You gripped his hand tighter and pushed yourself closer to him. The bar was dimly lit with a red glow to it, there was a small dance floor with a few people enjoying themselves on it. The tables were littered with people and there were a couple of patrons at the bar, you joined them. Derek ordered you two tequila shots each. You took them without a question and with a cheers.

A tall man with a greying beard walked in and Derek stood, you followed suit. “Argent!” He said with a rare grin, the man looked up at Derek and matched his.

“Derek!” He stretched out his name a little. The two embraced each other in a strong bro hug.

“Long time no see” Derek said as they pulled away.

“Way too long, friend” the man-Argent said to Derek. His eyes landed on you, “No wonder.” The way that Argent looked at you wasn’t like the other men in the bar, it was appreciative.  “This beautiful lady must be Y/N.” He smiled at you. He was handsome for a man in his late 30s/early 40s, you noted. “Chris. Chris Argent” he held his hand out for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled at him and shook his hand. So Argent is a last name. You all made your way back to the bar and ordered another round for each of you before purchasing beers.

“I’ve heard a lot about you” Chris said once you were all tucked away at a table in the corner.

“Funny, Derek doesn’t tell me a thing” you rose your eyebrow in his direction. Derek clenched his jaw.

“Y/N.” He warned and you just smirked.

“Still?” Chris said to Derek, seemingly surprised. Derek snapped his head in his direction.

“There hasn’t been time” Derek said curtly.“Plus it’s dangerous”

Chris clearly didn’t agree but he wasn’t going to to make a big deal about it. So he changed the subject and said. “So what have you found out?”

This launched you and Derek into telling him everything that happened over the past three days. The bodies; you noted how they had mountain ash coming from their eyes but, how the last one -the one representing Isaac- looked as if he was dug up from a cemetery, not recently killed. The note;How they left it along with the spiral, which according to Chris and Derek meant revenge. Katrina; you told him how she came to your house with Duecalion. As you began describing her, you were interrupted.

“If she’s who I think she is we have a lot to worry about.” Chris said, rubbing his chin.

“Why?” Derek huffed, his hand resting on your knee.

“She’s an emissary, she used to be a hunter.” Chris narrowed his eyes

“She was playing both sides of the fence?” Derek asked incredulously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Chris said, you gathered that he was talking about himself after Derek nodded.“She’s gonna need to fight” he said after a while. You figured that they were talking about Katrina.

“She can’t. It’s too dangerous” Derek gave one shake of his head, nope that were talking about you. They started going back and forth with pros and cons.

“I think that’s up to me to decide.” You spoke up, Derek scoffed.

“She’s gonna need to be able to protect herself. Don’t wait sixteen years like me.” He took a drink of his beer.

“That’s different. This is not my daughter and she wasn’t born into this.” Derek said quickly, squeezing your thigh. “She can’t even shoot” he said as if that would kill the argument.

“Neither could Allison.” Chris said firmly.

“I can’t shoot but…” You stood and both pairs of eyes watched you curiously as you walked to the bar and snuck a knife. You pointed to the dart board that was fifteen feet away and made sure they were paying attention before you threw the knife directly into the bullseye. Derek’s jaw hung open before he recollected to an impressed smirk. You had one as well when you sauntered back to them.

“Party trick.” You bit your lip.

“When were you going to tell me you could do that?” Derek said and pulled you into a kiss. Chris cleared his throat.

“We don’t go to many parties, darling” you shrugged, your arms draped his shoulders lazily.

“That was so fucking hot” he whispered into your ear and squeezed your ass. Chris was louder with his throat clearing this time.

“We can use this” Chris said with a nod.

“I’m against this” Derek went back to glaring.

“I don’t care, I want to help.” You sighed. Maybe it was naive but, if he was going to risk his life for you, you’d do the same for him. Derek was grinding his teeth together when the bar tender walked up to your table with the knife that you threw. Derek stood in front of you nearly blocking your view, the bartender faltered a bit but didn’t back down.

“Hey, you guys gotta leave” he said simply, running his free hand through his thin black hair.

“And why is that?” Chris spoke up now standing next to Derek. People were looking at you now and you groaned. It looked like they were gearing up for a fight.

“That was cool and all” he smiled and nodded at you, Derek grunted “but you can’t just go around throwing knives” he rubbed the back of his neck. The poor guy didn’t want to do this. The men just stared at the lanky boy and you groaned.

“Come on, we have things to do anyway” you began pulling Derek by the wrist, he glared at the bartender the entire way out. Chris followed suit shaking his head in amusement all the way to the parking lot.

“You go with him. I have to ditch the truck.” Derek said as he began putting bags from your truck to Argents SUV. You did the same and looked at one of Argents bags that was unzipped.Holy shit that’s a lot of guns. You thought.

“Or… We can both go together” you placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him. You were a little nervous about being in the car alone with Chris.

“I have to get back by myself, trust me, it won’t be long” he said as he placed his hands on your hips. “You’ll be fine. I trust him” he reassured you after noticing your wary glance towards Argent in the front seat, “I love you” he smiled down at you.

“I love you back.” You pressed your lips to his roughly and he kissed you back fiercely. He bit your bottom lip and you did the same to him. Your tongues were tangled in each other’s in seconds. You pulled away before it became impossible.

—- The plan was to drive a few miles to the crappy motel in the next town, Derek followed about halfway there but then veered off to the right. You needed to put as much space as possible between you and whatever danger was lurking about.

“So, Derek said you hunted guys like him?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in the passenger seat.You decided to take the chance to get to know as much about him as possible, he might even spill the beans about Derek.

“Among other things.” Chris said, placing a cryptic smile on his face. “I’m an international arms dealer.” He shrugged, well that explains the guns.

“So how do you know Derek?” You asked the question that had been plaguing you for a while.

“Speaking of hunting, we were hunting Derek. Thought he killed one of ours” He said nonchalantly, you choked on your spit. “He didn’t!” He assured quickly. “Misunderstanding” he nodded.

You were rendered speechless at that. Deciding not to ask the question that was playing on the tip of your tongue. Has Derek killed someone? Argent only specified that he didn’t kill one of his people what if Derek was in the mob and this guy was a dirty cop? What if Argent was a murderer? Arms dealer my ass. You thought after taking a sideways glance at him.

You broke your train of thought once you pulled up to a dusty motel on the highway next to a sign that said ‘WELCOME TO DENVER.’ You smiled at the fact that you had gotten the hell out of Nebraska. You followed Argent through check-in and stood rigid as he only got on room with two queen beds. The elderly desk woman must have noticed your apprehension because she grabbed your hand before you grabbed your room key and said.

“If you need anything, just call the front desk and we’ll pick up right away.” She gave you a kind smile. “We’re open 24/7” her tone now picking up harshness as she directed the information to Argent who nodded, not oblivious to her warning. You smiled greatfully and left to your room. Once you reached your room you and Argent grabbed your respective overnight bags as well as your bag of food. There was a pregnant silence as you sat on the chair provided in the room and Argent sat the edge of his bed. Until his stomach growled and you laughed at the groan he gave.

“Here, take your pick.” You said, tossing the food bag at Chris and twiddling your thumbs. Where the hell is Derek?

“Thanks.” He nodded, taking a microwave burrito and a bag of chips before standing and using the microwave.

You both heated up your respective frozen meals and turned on the television. You weren’t moving from your seat near the door just in case but, you had a more relaxed aura in the room. To the point where you were having an actual conversation. Turns out, both Chris and Derek were born into the lives they now both live. You wanted to know so much more and you were determined to learn, until you heard a distant deep howl in the distance. But, the howl wasn’t what stopped you from speaking, it was the way that Chris responded to it. He stood up abruptly and pulled out a rather large gun, handing you two equally large knives.

“Still got that aim?” you nodded and sucked in a breath when you heard another howl, this one much higher sounding than the first. Chris motioned for you to move towards the back of the room and you did as he instructed. You didn’t know why you were so on edge, the howls sounded as if they were miles away, besides wolves can’t open doors. You were trying to give yourself some comic relief but it didn’t stop your heart from pounding or the bead of sweat that was making its way down your face.

Minutes later the door swung open and you saw the unmistakable figure of Derek with someone draped over his shoulder, he was trying to control his breathing as he bounded through the door, laying the limp boy on the bed where Argent previously sat. Derek’s eyes met yours and he gave you a once-over, making sure you were untouched.

“Isaac.” Argent spoke gravely after shutting the door. Your eyes snapped to the blonde boy at the mention of his familiar name. He looked just like the boy that was dug up, only a few years older and prettier.

“I found him lying next to a sewer drain a few miles out.” Derek said as he worked on tearing off the boy’s already tattered shirt. “He’s got a few deep scratches. He’s been out there for days��� Derek told him moving around effortlessly.

“He’ll heal, soon.” Argent said completely positive.

“That’s not all.” Derek said slowly before turning Isaac on his side to reveal a gunshot wound with green smoke coming out.

All Argent did was groan and go to his car. When he came back he had a kit with him and began his work on Isaac, who was now groaning in pain. You moved closer and gasped when you saw how bad Isaac really was. He had four scratches on either side of his chest, they looked as if they were half healed. A few scratches? The boy looked like he was mauled by a wild animal. Is this why Duecalion calls himself the demon wolf? Because he finds enjoyment out of getting animals to attack people?

“Is he… Is he going to be okay?” You asked aloud and all eyes snapped in your direction as if they’d forgotten you were in the room. You’d almost forgotten, too. It was like you were seeing everything through a keyhole in the door. Like you didn’t belong and were looking in on someone’s private life.

“I hope so.” Derek said truthfully, looking at you with eyes that begged forgiveness. As if he’d done something wrong.

“So do I” Isaac whispered softly with a chuckle before screaming in pain and launching up as Chris started digging into his wound for a bullet. You could have sworn his eyes turned an unnatural yellow color. But when you blinked it was gone and Derek was holding him down whispering to him inaudibly.

Once Isaac was calm after being injected with something to calm him down. He sat with bandages across his chest and a distant look in his eye.

“What the hell did you give him?” You wanted to know whatever it was that had Isaac going from convulsing to looking like he was having the best time of his life.

“Wolvesbane.” Chris said, packing his gear back up. Derek grunted. “Well, that’s the non scientific name for it, at least” Chris smiled, seemingly correcting himself. “This particular strain is used for hallucinations” He took his bag and made his way back to the car.

The instant that Argent turned his back, Derek strode over to you, taking your face in his hands. It took one look in those bright green eyes for you to crumble. You began crying softly and Derek wrapped you in his arms, shushing and rocking you all the ways.

“What’s happening?” You whispered to him.

“Shh… It’ll all be over soon, baby.” He said, kissing your forehead. You nodded and held him close for a few minutes, letting your tears dry.

Chris opened the door with an armful of extra blankets, you suspected he did so to give you and Derek a little privacy. Well about as much privacy as you can get with a guy who’s high off his ass and giggling to himself on the bed next to you.

Derek had agreed to take first watch of Isaac and you decided to stay up with him, letting Chris have the bed leaving you and Derek to the makeshift cot of blankets on the floor. The soft yellow glow of street lights breaking through the blinds was the only light littering the room. Once both Chris and Isaac were fast asleep you felt Derek push his body up against yours from behind. Your breathing hitched as he inhaled and wrapped himself to you.

“I probably don’t smell that wonderful” you whispered, thinking about the events that transpired earlier.

“You always smell wonderful” he whispered back, rolling you to face him. You didn’t look at him for fear that you would begin bawling. Derek noticed immediately and began rubbing his thumb across your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open to see his searching your face.

“Derek..” you began softly. “We’re like this often, now.” the slow tears falling from your eyes betraying you.

Your statement rang true and Derek knew. It was all slowly making sense now that you knew that you were looking for Isaac all this time. The fact that he uprooted you both to travel state to state was clear as day when you thought about it. When you and Derek began dating he was in a townhouse that was larger than life, then you moved into your cute little two bedroom apartment that he purchased outright. Then moving from hotel to hotel to ending up in the trailer. Now here you were again.

“I’m sorry” he told you gently.

“Yeah..” you turned away from him and let your tears fall freely. You felt him shift to pull himself closer again. “Don’t.” You warned seriously and made a show of putting space between you two with a pillow.

You cried next to Derek until you reluctantly let yourself give in to exhaustion.

Derek

I ran a hand through my hair as I watched Y/N fall asleep. I feel terrible for what I was doing to her.  It took everything in me to hold back the anger in myself, she was beginning to break and it was because of me. I never thought that I’d lay next to this girl while she cried her eyes out and not be able to do anything. And the worst part of it all was that it was because of me.

“Don’t you think it’s time, Derek?” My head snapped to Chris’s deep voice intruding my alone time.

“You don’t get a say in this, Argent” I bit back at him. He may be helping me with Duecalion but, I didn’t need his input on my personal life.

“Don’t you think she should?” He said as he stood. I followed suit in full defense mode. What was he planning? “Calm down. I’m just moving so she can take the bed” he walked to Isaac to monitor his wounds.

“Sorry” I said as I lifted Y/N into my arms gently and lay her on the bed. “She just… She means everything to me” I said seriously as I brushed strands of hair from her face.

“I’m sure you mean the same to her.” He said, taking the chair provided in the room. “You should tell her though. She needs to know what she’s up against. What are you afraid of?” He questioned.

“I know, I can’t lose her though, Argent. I won’t.” I said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “No one’s loved me like this before, not as fiercely as she has” I was looking at my hands now.

Argent and I were never really talkers but, if anyone knew what I was going through it was him. I knew he was right, if I didn’t tell her soon I would lose her for good, she didn’t even want me to touch her tonight for Christ’s sake. And if she left, she’d be in more danger now than ever.

“Derek” he called and I raised my eyes to meet his “I don’t think anyone has loved another as fiercely as this woman loves you.” He was being truthful, and there was a hint of jealousy. That had to be hard to admit. He’d been married to his wife for over twenty years. “She deserves to know. Could you be with someone who you knew was lying to you for three years?”