#when you decide to add your window make sure the microphone is off? i was just sitting at the breakfast table with a french couple

[minachuuu]

The Voice That Keeps Following Me

❣The Voice That Keeps Following Me❣

The sequel for Voices I Can’t Run Away From is finally here. I chose to make it a sequel and not a 2-part story, because I wrote the first one thinking of it as a stand-alone story, but I was requested a second part and I really like how it turned out! Hope you enjoy it too!

❤ AU: DreamCatcher (Fem!) 8th Member

❤ Genre: Angst

❤ Word Count: 6.8k

❤ Song Suggestions: Scream by DreamCatcher and Fight Inside by Red

⚠ TW : Harassment, blood and guns.

Day 134

Look at my family. 

My mind sometimes likes to play and pretends to be a camera, it goes through life slowing moments down around me, allowing me to bask in the emotions that they gift me. And then it stores them, there in my fondest memories. I have a lot of them to choose from when my thoughts get dark, the light they emanate is enough to shut the whispers in my mind. 

The warm embrace of my members is one that comes very often, but it was that night around four months ago that I first felt like someone really loved me. But do they really? And I try not to look back from that. Or do I?

The sun was high in the sky, a warm and welcoming spotlight that followed us through your late winter promotions, the chilly winds still rattled the thin hair in your forearms, but there was no more snow falling from the sky. The windows in the van didn’t fog like before and you could watch little flowers sprout all over the city as spring felt closer and closer.

Your favorite song was blasting through your right earpod, while the other ear enjoyed the background noise of Yoohyeon and Bora bickering in the seats in front of you. Yubin sat by your side, ignoring all reality happening before her while playing a game on her phone.

A light chuckle escaped your lips when you caught a glimpse of SuA tossing what could have been a sock to Yoohyeon, hitting her straight in the face. The latter just turned around, dumbfounded as Bora’s sudden laugh even managed to make Yubin raise her view to her. She then turned her head towards you, her eyes asking for an explanation. You didn’t play attention to the reason why, so you could only offer her back an affiliative smile and a shrug. It seemed to be enough for her, since these two always going at each other every single day was a good source of entertainment.

Your eyes travelled outside, discovering that you were already at your destiny. The fansign venue was already surrounded by a long line of eager fans waiting for you, and as soon one spotted the van, they all turned around to wave at you. Except for one guy that stood out for you from the others for not matching the excitement around him. All dressed in black, the hoodie covering up half of his face.

They’re still here, and they won’t go until you go down with them.

A sudden chill went down your spine, just as every time that you had to encounter an audience face to face, but shaking your head, you were quick to shut it down as the rest of the fans excited smiles and screams muffled behind the window drew a smile on your face, one that you didn’t get that often.

The car stopped it’s movement just behind the venue and the door opened, letting all unfiltered light into your eyes. Yoohyeon and Bora got out of the van and then the manager helped you and Yubin out too. As soon as your feet touched the ground, you felt an arm intertwined with yours, pulling you closer.

“Y/n!” Bora’s voice boomed as you identified her by your side. “If… Let’s say, you hypothetically had a favorite Unnie, who would that be?”

You stared at her trying to analyse what the best answer to that question could be, you loved all your members equally, but something in her voice told you that the question had a tricky part that she wasn’t telling you about. 

Your suspicions were confirmed when you raised your view, Yoohyeon shaking her head at the scene before her.

“It’s probably Handong-unnie.” You answered nonchalantly. 

“Y/n-yah!” Bora let go and slapped your arm playfully, pouting her lips. “You were supposed to say me! Alright then. Yubin!-”

“Mine’s Minji.” She answered without letting the older even breathe. 

“Ah!” Bora whined, cutely hoping in her place. “Why am I no one’s favorite?! That’s not fair!”

“Maybe because you jump in my bed when I’m trying to sleep?” Yoohyeon added.

“Or because you belt in my ear to scare me when I try to read?” Yubin scoffed.

“Or…” You thought of something to add, but Bora hadn’t been anything but loving to you most of the time. Yes, her way of showing love was sometimes super clingy and loud but, you loved her that way, so you couldn’t really come with a better excuse. “Or maybe because you’re just not Dongie-Unnie.”

She deadpanned towards you, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“At this rate I’ll never win the bet against Minji,” She sighed. She turned around, just when the other van was pulling up behind yours. Her eyes lit up, as she ran towards it. “Gahyeon-ah!!”

The three of you laughed out loud, shaking your heads at the occurrences of your older member. You walked towards the entrance of the building together, your laugh still dying down when you heard Gahyeon mumble in the distance followed by Bora’s loud whine.

“I hope Minji gives us our part of whatever she bet against her,” Yoohyeon chuckled, holding the door open as you entered the building.

We walked towards a large room with some couches and chairs, a table full of snacks and a wall entirely made of mirrors. Even decorated with some of your comeback posters on the other walls.

You walked towards the table, scanning carefully the snack offerings over it. Amongst some chocolate bars, caramels and beverages, you grabbed a bag of chips to snack as you waited to go outside.

“Good news everyone!” Minji entered the room with her arms wide open, a huge grin on her face. “Today’s dinner is on Bora!”

The seven of you cheered loudly as the latter just pouted, her arms still crossed and her eyebrows furrowed and plunged into a couch near you. You decided to come approach her, taking the seat besides her. You snacked on your bag of chips silently when you decided to turn to Bora and offer her some, she accepted them as she grumbled under her breath. The sight made you chuckle, seeing the most enthusiast member of your group all moody over a bet, but as the seconds passed, you started missing her energetic spirit.

“Unnie…” You leaned over to her, sweetening your voice. “If you buy tteokbokki, I promise you’ll become my favorite.”

She snapped her head towards you,her eyes squinting with suspicion and temptation to your offer. You smiled at her in the most innocent way that you could, bringing out your puppy eyes which you knew she couldn’t resist.

“Ah fine,” She cupped your cheeks with her hands, pinching your cheeks. The sudden gesture that prompted you to drop your mask, trying hard to get off her grip. “Just because you are my favorite maknae, even if you broke my heart in a million pieces. Just don’t tell the others.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Your voice muffled by the pressure that her hands were applying to your cheeks. You raised your hand, painting at her hands over your face “Can you… let go?”

“Never.” She released your face, but you didn’t get to savor freedom for long since she wrapped her body around yours, cuddling into you.

A sudden blush invaded your cheeks, softening your pride. You let yourself cuddle into Bora, while a smile kept growing in your face. 

And then, time slowed down as you let your eyes wander through the space. Minji and Siyeon are laughing in the corner, the white walls reflecting in the sparks in their eyes. Gahyeon and Yoohyeon bickering around Handong, but the oldest of them just smirked at the probably childish discussion they had going on. Yubin was silently existing by my side on the couch, reading what seemed like her hundredth book in the month. You still didn’t know how she managed to do it with all the activities of the comeback. And then there was Bora, cuddled in her arms, making you feel like you were protected from everything in the world.

You sighed, savoring the emotions in the moment, your heart warming up at the sight of the best family that the world was able to give you ever.

But, are you really sure that you deserve all of this? After all you made them go through?

Thankfully, the voice in your mind was broken when a manager opened the door, calling everyone out to the stage to start the fansign.

You stood up from the couch, as you felt your body shaking nervously. This being your first fansign since the last comeback, and the “incident”. That’s how you and the members preferred calling it without inviting back unwanted feelings and memories.

They were quick to notice your nerves and approach to surround you in that familiar and safety blanket that they were all so used to being part of. Shanking your head, you released a shaky breath out of your lips and nodded, the girls taking the sign to move forward.

You could hear the deafening cheers of Insomnias from the other side of the hallway, as your heart ramped up it’s speed. Unsure if that was nerves or excitement, you wrapped the first hand that you could, that being Siyeon’s. 

“Hey,” She turned around, offering you a conforming smile. “We’ve got your back, you’ll be okay Y/n.”

You nodded, leaning into her shoulder as you kept walking towards the main stage where your fans were already waiting for you. The door to the stage opened, making the shouts from Insomnia even louder. Your table with eight chairs and a bottle of water was already waiting for you too. The staff handed you each one microphone as you crossed the door.

The bright lights of the auditorium blinded you as you made your way into the stage, cheers cramming your ears. It took a few seconds for your senses to get used to all the sudden stimulation, but once they did, you were greeted with your fans waving and smiling at you.

You smiled back at them, offering them finger hearts and flying kisses. The clics from the fansites cameras refuse to cease, as you greeted your few acquaintances that sat between the audience. But as your eyes scanned around, you landed on that same man that you spot outside. With his hoodie still over his face, he wasn’t jumping up and down or smiling like the rest of the people around him. All you could see was a faint smirk in the shadow, as he slowly clapped to match the rest of the people. 

“Let’s introduce ourselves!” You heard Minji clap to get the attention of the group, and you quickly stood in a straight line facing your audience. “One, two-”

“Dream of me! Hello, we are Dreamcatcher!” All of you chorused together, pumping up your fans even more. Each one of them introduced themselves, one after the other. Gahyeon was last, and everyone remained silent.

“Hello! It’s Y/n!” You cheered through your microphone. The audience exploded louder than before. Even hearing some ‘We’ve missed you!’ and other ‘Insomnia loves you!’. You turned to your members, to find them all grinning widely at you, which made you blush intensely. 

But then again, your eyes had to land on that one unenergetic guy in the audience, still with the same grin and slowly clapping in his seat. 

Maybe they didn’t really miss you, maybe the group was better when you were gone.

You shook your head, trying to get the thought out of your head. But it kept nagging in there. Trying to talk, your lips parted as words got up your throat but never past your lips. You didn’t realize how shaky your hand was until you felt Yoohyeon’s trying to get a grip of it.

Closing your eyes and letting her hand embrace yours, you took a deep breath, and finally the last thought got foggy enough to let you talk.

“It’s good to see you all again!” You stammered through the microphone, earning the cheers of the room, even your members.

After some light chat between everyone sat at their places as the staff helped Insomias line up, they eagerly smiled, excited as they waited for their turn to go up and talk to all of you. Minji, who sat by your side, placed her hand over yours and only her glance and smile was enough to make you feel safe. 

Each one of the fans that talked to you beamed with light and joy, filling your table with so many gifts and letters that you wished you could give them back something more than just your signature. 

A cute, young little girl came hopping to your place holding her album in hand, carrying a very particular gift with her. A bag of chips that you hadn’t eaten since… since the day you returned home after the incident. After saying hello and quickly signing the album, she rushed into conversation with you, something you didn’t mind cause you were extremely curious about her gift.

“My grandpa remembered that you liked this type of chips,” The girl extended the gift to you, taking them with delivered surprise as your eyes scanned them. “He wanted me to tell you that he hopes you’re doing good and that he’s proud of you!”

“Wait, how did he know it was me?” You chuckled, apparently being grubby, behind a bucket hat, a baggy sweatshirt and lowering your voice was not enough to hide yourself.

“He says it was intuition. Or maybe just your voice.” The girl giggled nervously. “But when he came home that night, he told me that everything was going to be okay, that you were alright. I trust him.”

“He did help me a lot that day, your grandpa is a great man.” Your talking minute was running out, so you reached across the table and put your hands on her, offering her a warm smile. “Always be kind to everyone, who knows where I would be right now if it wasn’t for the kindness of your grandpa.”

“I will always be Unnie!” The girl squealed in happiness as she moved to the next seat to talk with Minji.

“Say hi to him!” You added last minute and she nodded before turning to take care of the fan now in front of you.

More and more gifts started milling up around you, even flower bouquets adorned your surroundings and the rest of DreamCatcher, the managers walking around and taking some of them away from you to store backstage so the entire table wouldn’t end up engulfed in gifts.

You were so into the fansign, talking to all your lovely Insomnias, that you didn’t notice beforehand about the one thing that unnerved you. Turning around to face the fan in front of you, there he stood, the ominous hooded guy. 

You tried greeting him with the same enthusiasm as the rest of your fans, but you were taken aback when instead of the usual cheery and giggle response, he just muttered a nonchalant ‘hi’ back at you.

You took his album, searching for the note with your name on it to know exactly where to sign. Finding it, you flicked to that page, but a cold chill traveled down your spine when you opened it.

Your pictures were scratched, painted and splattered over in a dark, thick, red tint. And over it, scribed in big black letters over everything, it read: 

‘DreamCatcher will always be 7’

Told you

“Wha-?”

You heard a clock that snapped your head up. Facing a gun pointed straight at you.

They’re going down and taking you down with them. One last time.

And then time stopped. A cold drop of sweat travelled down your spine, as a knot tightened in your throat. Your eyes wandered around, a hundred smiles completely oblivious to the sight right in front of you. All that was left was to close your eyes, hoping everything to be quick and painless.

“Y/N!” 

You heard your name be screamed just before a loud bang, returning you to this existential plane. But when your eyes shot open, you found yourself hitting the floor with your shoulder. 

A cacophony of screams and people in plain panic ensued, the hooded man was tackled into the ground, and people ran left and right unsure on where to run away.

You tried getting up to get a better view of everything happening on the other side of the table, but a sharp burning bolt of pain travelling your body all the way from your shoulder pinned you down in your place. You turned to it, your entire sleeve covered in a red, thick and warm liquid. Your arm limped, only hanging from your increased numbing shoulder. The tingle in the tip of your fingers increased and travelled through your palm as you stared in horror, as the puddle of blood extended through all your outfit.

“We need an ambulance!” You heard one of your managers shout from one side of the venue, as the noise in the auditorium got more and more muffled to your ears.

“Y/N!” Minji’s shadow covered the light above you as she approached, her heavy breathing and shaky voice calling your name over and over under her breath as she kneeled by your side. “Gosh, no, no”

“What’s going on?” You cried, barely any noise coming out of your mouth. Using your remaining strength, you reached with your hand towards your members, who urgently surrounded you. Along with other managers who moved fast around you, discussing stuff that you weren't able to hear anymore.

“We need to stop the bleeding, NOW!” Yubin commanded, looking around the place for something to surround your injury tightly around, Siyeon and Handong following closely behind her.

“Please don’t leave me,” As your eyes flooded with tears, you somehow managed to crawl into Minji’s lap, “Please.”

“Never, Y/n-” Her eyes full of tears as well, hold you close, not minding getting stained by the red liquid that surrounded you by now.

Painfully, you turned your head to watch around. Gahyeon and Bora were bawling their eyes out between each other's eyes, Yoohyeon kneeling beside Minji in an effort of calming down both of them.

“Here!” Handong came back with a large piece of cloth, quickly kneeling besides you and fasting it up tightly around your arm and shoulder with the help of Siyeon and Yubin. Minji was refusing to drop her hold on you.

“Unnie, I’m so sorry” Your throat stinged at the words, dried up of the tears that came non stop through your eyes. “I’m so sorry about everything.”

Your vision started fogging up, as you barely heard a siren outside, followed by the main door being pushed open, and voices of various people approaching. Fighting to keep your eyes, you wrapped one of your member's clothes with the remaining strength left in your body.

“Stay with us, please.” Siyeon’s voice was distant, but your eyes caught her lips moving as the words entered your brain. “Stay.”

But you couldn’t stop fighting against the weight of your eyelids. The noise surrounding you shut up completely, and the shadows that surrounded you were swallowed by complete darkness.

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

Day 135

I know they’re here. I can hear them sometimes, but they can’t hear me. How much time do you think they’ll keep up with you? Please don’t leave me. Please. 

Bora’s fingers traveled up and down your static hand with a gentleness that could put anyone to sleep. But this time it was the other way around. Surrounded by tubes full of unknown liquid flowing into your body, metal structures that seemed to keep the room’s gray walls from falling apart and the rattling but thankfully constant beeping of your heart monitor, everything she wished was for you to wake up.

Handong lay asleep across the couch on the other side of the bed, with only a weighted blanket covering her body from the chilly air circling the room, her head resting on the also asleep Yoohyeon who covered herself with around three thick jackets. The three of them volunteered to take the night watch in the hospital, replacing Minji and Yubin who refused to leave the hospital as you were received in the emergency room and stood by your side for the entirety of the first day. The managers insisted all of them to stay back at their dorm, but were quickly cut off by every girl, standing their ground on never letting you go again.

The first rays of sun peeked through the shades over the window, bringing a dim but warm light into the room with them. Bora’s tired eyes raised to watch the faint silhouette of the sunset through them. A knock on the door made her snap her head towards it, waking up the other two girls in the process.

“Come in?” Handong groggily whispered while standing up straight on the couch, rubbing her eyes.

The heavy door opened, revealing the other four members' tired faces behind it.

“How was your night?” Minji entered the room, hands deep in her pockets as she approached the feet of the bed, staring up and down at your weakened body laying before her. “Did you get some rest?”

The three girls already in the room shook their heads in unison, with Yoohyeon even burying her face between her hands.

“I never thought that a place so silent could be so…” She whispered, her eyes wandering all over the room, unfocused. “Restless.”

“There wasn’t much sleep at the dorm either.” Gahyeon added, sitting besides Bora as she carefully took a strand of hair away from your seemingly sleeping face. 

“We brought you some coffee…” Siyeon handed their drinks to Yoohyeon, Handong and Bora before sitting in a chair on the other corner of the room. “I hope it at least helps you stay awake”

“Any news?” Yubin closed the door behind her, laying against the wall. Crossing her arms as she scanned the room with her eyes.

“Well,” Bora stretched her arms, standing up from her chair as she kept stretching her entire body in the process. “The doctor said that everything is stable, all vital organs are okay and that Y/n will only need some rehabilitation in her arm and shoulder. So, she’ll be fine.”

Everyone let out a deep sigh of relief, as Gahyeon leaned down to leave a kiss on your temple, a fair smile crossing her lips.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you enough.” Gahyeon whispered to you as she rested her head over her hands on the edge of the bed.

“But it shouldn’t be our responsibility to have to go around being careful and trying not to get killed,” Yubin scoffed as she paraded around the room. “That’s just sick.”

“I’m glad they caught that bastard.” Siyeon snapped. “And I hope he rots in the deepest rings of hell that disgusting son of a-”

“Siyeon, the kids!” Minji covered Gahyeon’s ears as she covered yours. Her expression softened for a second, twisting her lips in agreement. “But you do raise a very valid point.”

Minji let Gahyeon’s ears go slowly and cautiously, in case any of the older girls decided lo let their dirty tongue roam free again.

“But what I still don’t understand,” Yoohyeon rested her head over her knuckles, as she leaned forward over the edge of the couch. “How can there be people who still don’t want her in the group?”

“We will never make everyone happy,” Handong responded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was someone out there who still thinks you should have stayed with the Minx concept.”

The audible groans of Yoohyeon, Minji, Bora, Siyeon and Yubin filled the entire room, facepalms, shrinked shoulders, rolled eyes, their mouths hissing and lips twisting in a physically painful display of a cringy memory flooding their minds. The image encouraged a chuckle out of Gahyeon and Handong, who enjoyed teasing the others with their past.

“While I understood your point perfectly,” Yubin's unimpressed muffled voice stuttered. “there was absolutely no need to take it that far, thank you.”

“But she’s right,” Siyeon pointed out. “There’s people who don’t agree with us, but we now know there’s more people that actually like Y/n a lot! And, if she still wants to be in the group with us after all this, whoever doesn’t agree can walk through the door and never come back.”

“If she wants to be in the group?” Gahyeon glanced back at Siyeon, perplexed.

“Y/n’s been through a lot already,” Bora added. “Even though we love her, we wouldn’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to.”

“And if she wants to go back home,” Siyeon continued. “We’ll respect her decision too.”

The atmosphere around the room got tense. Everyone understood and agreed perfectly, but it didn’t mean that they wouldn’t miss you if you decided to leave the group.

“Do you know when her family will come? The manager told us they were trying to contact them.” Yoohyeon asked the other girls, trying to break the awkward silence. “Maybe we’ll finally get to meet them”

“They won’t be coming.” Minji shook her head, resting her hands on the footboard of the bed.

“Are they foreigners or something?” Handong leaned her head, curious at the leader’s response. “We could help them fly here if they want to-”

“No, yesterday the managers finally told me the reason Y/n never really talks about her family, and I think it’s time all of you know.” She sighed, raising her head and placing herself somewhere where everyone could see and hear her clearly. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to focus. “Y/n doesn’t really know her family.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t know her family?” Siyeon eyebrows furrowed, trying to understand the oldest’s words. 

“According to what I was told yesterday, she knows she had a family. But ever since she was a little child she had been jumping from foster home to foster home, until she became a trainee later.” Minji nodded, her lips forming a straight line as she got immersed in her own thoughts. Shaking them aside when she felt the pressure of the silence and the looks of the girls over her, she continued talking. “The staff was the one taking care of her after that and up until she debuted with us.”

“So, it’s almost as she doesn’t have a family.” Gahyeon trembled.

The stillness in the air became even more heavy over everyone’s shoulders now that it dawned on them the reality of the situation. 

The sun now fully out of the horizon peaked through the window, illuminating the room with its warmth and hopeful brightness. Almost like a sign from the universe, a ray of light rested amicable over your peaceful, sleeping face.

Bora placed her hand over yours, caressing it gently with her thumb. After a few minutes of slumberous and wary silence, like a spotlight calling to her to raise her eyes, she scanned around the room, a delicate smile making its way to her lips as she came to a realization. 

“Y/n does have a family.” Bora whispered, making all the girls raise their faces in confusion. One by one, as they locked their eyes with the other girls understood exactly what Bora was talking about, bringing kind grins into their faces.

As some happy tears started escaping some of the girls eyes, it dawned on them all your adventures together. All the hard and the pretty times, how everyone loved each other and accepted their highs and their lows. How every single one of them understood perfectly that blood is not what makes a family, but the unconditional love and support that all parts have for each other. Whatever you had going on in between, that was a family.

“She has us.” Yoohyeon nodded, posing her sight on your resting body. 

Swallowed sobs reigned the air until a soft hum stood out. Like a ritual that you all had together now, Yubin’s gentle singing filled the air, the other girls recognizing the song immediately. Your song. One by one the other girls joined her, harmoniously swelling their surroundings with a much needed drop of hope for their soul. As the song continued, each one of them cuddled towards each other, seeking the warmth and comfort of their arms. A silent promise to deliver this and so much more to you for the rest of your lives.

The song was arriving to their end, as silence once again reigned the room when a sigh from the leader broke through. 

“We’ll be here for Y/n, all the time she wants us to be by her side.” Minji flicked away a tear from her eye, nodding at her beautiful family around her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Day 136

I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. As long as you live I’ll always be right behind you. I have so much left to give, just let me prove it.

A black canvas, covered in bright, sparkling freckles swallowed the sky, the horizon and the floor beneath you. The plain sound of your shaky breath echoed into eternity in every direction as you watched your feet walking on air. One step, two steps. Covered in a fair white robe, you felt the breeze dancing around you, but your skin didn’t perceive any cold from it, instead being embraced in a warm coating, from head to toe. Three steps, four steps. The stars around you didn’t seem to come closer or any farther as you kept advancing, but they all seemed to beat together at a constant beeping rhythm. Five steps. 

A pair of bare feet met yours in a perfect reflection, and as you slowly raised your eyes. Whoever was standing right in front of you was wearing the exact same white robe as you, moved their hands the same way, breathed the same way… looked the same. 

Standing right in front of a perfect reflection of yourself, you raised your hand towards your shoulder, pulling down the gown from it. Your reflection followed precisely, revealing your clean and well skin under. A relieved breath escaped your lips a little too soon, as quickly, a dark spot surged under your reflection's hand, spreading all over it’s arm, hand and chest. 

You leaped behind startled but your reflection didn’t follow through, instead, it started stomping towards you, as the darkness climbed all the way to it’s face. Your hand frantically searched for your shoulder, but there was nothing over yours.

“Who are you!?” You pleaded, running backwards to keep your distance with the impostor.

“Don’t you recognize me Y/n?” Your reflection's voice gritted through the air as a crooked smile was painted in it’s lips. “It’s me, the real you.”

“No, no you are not.” You gasped back, with a hit of doubt that didn’t go unnoticed by the entity in front of you.

“You see? Not even you know who you are.” The reflection reached it’s completely darkened hand towards you, inviting you closer. “Then what makes you think I can’t be you?”

“I-” You stuttered, the never ending starry void where you kept running away also allowed this creature to stay mere inches away from you, no matter how much you seemed to pull yourself far away from it. “Please go away.”

“You know I never will,” It tilted it’s head, sneering back. “Everyone around you has never loved you enough to stay, but I’ll be the only one faithfull by your side forever.”

It didn’t have to hit so low, but there was this little spark burning inside you that kept you up on your feet to keep running, to keep fighting. Through the sting in your eyes, you watched the stars start beeping at a faster rate, ready to try one more time.

“They haven’t left me yet,” You fired back. Your reflection glitched it’s presence before letting out an evil chuckle that echoed through the void.

“But you already know they will!” It scoffed, halting its steps. “Then why wait for it to hurt even more?”

“Because they waited for me.”

All signs of fun were erased from your reflection's face, letting you breath out for a second. But a disgusted smirk plastered across its face as it turned itself into someone else. The wide and gentle smile, her arms that always welcomed you in and her brown eyes that always made you feel safe.

“Minji Unnie?...” You gasped.

“And once again, you come in and ruin absolutely everything for us.” The voice was on point, making you trip over your feet and fall down in surprise. “It would have been best if you d-”

“I heard her! She said my name!” Minji’s voice bounced around, but not coming from the bizarre Minji standing in front of you. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

The creature before you took your form again, it’s breath angrily rising. It quickly shapeshifted to another form. 

“We don’t want you back!” It panted now as Bora, shouting to make its voice be heard over the accelerating heartbeat. “We don’t-”

“It’s okay, it’s all a dream!” Now it was Bora’s voice responding from beyond what your eyes could see. You saw your hand light up, warming up as if another hand graced on top of yours. “Everything’s gonna be okay. We’re here.”

The stars around you finally started getting closer, to both of you. The light engulfing both you and your reflection. It felt warm and gentle on your skin, but you couldn’t say the same thing for the other you in that place. 

Loud screeches of pain as it battled against the bright light touching it’s skin, shrinking against itself in its own place. You felt your feet floating, like a certain force pulling you up from the starry sky. You felt a cold hand grab you from the hem of your gown, as it’s colorless eyes searched painfully for yours.

“YOU’LL NEVER GET RID OF ME!” Your bizarre reflection snapped back at you in desperation, almost like a cry for help.

“Maybe,” You looked back at it, and just for a second, it’s eyes mirrored your human color instead of being a black, empty void. “But I’ll never stop trying.”

The bright light of the room filled your view, as your eyes snapped open. Trying urgently to adjust to the new light, your eyes blinked and scanned from side to side, as the blurriness slowly dissipated. A flash of pain escurried from your shoulder all the way up your chest, arm and head, as you looked down to a freshly closed wound, a gauze tenderly placed above your stitches. 

You looked at the shadows hovering above you, dazzled by the ceiling’s light once again when you turned your eyes up to one side. Two unknown faces, dressed up with scrubs were hurriedly taking your vitals, alternating the view between the monitors and you. Moving your eyes upward and to the other side, there they were. 

Bora rested her head on the edge, caressing your hand with her thumb, looking it you with the brightest eyes you had ever seen, and hovering just above her, Minji, flicking off a stray tear away from her face and Dami, a glowing smile adorning her face, one that cutely wrinkled her eyes as her eyes refused to leave you.

“You’re finally back.” Minji whispered as her tender grin grew up across her face. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Bora tenderly caressed your cheek as her own eyes filled with tears unwilling to drop. With the strength available in your body, you offered back a smile that immediately broke her. 

“We couldn’t bear the idea of losing you again,” She cried, clinging to your hand. “We missed you so much.”

“I’m not going anywhere Unnie, that’s a promise.” You mumbled back. 

“Precisely young lady, you are not allowed to go anywhere yet. At least until tomorrow” One of the nurses added, making all of us chuckle and lightening up the aura in the room. “Your vitals are running as they should and your recovery seems to be advancing correctly, you’ll be staying just one more day here.”

All the room cheered at the good news, relieved. You raised the bed to sit up and chat with the girls about everything that had been happening throughout the days, how the bastard that shot you was convicted and dealt with, with no mercy. They told you about how all the industry took steps to ensure the safety of the idols thanks to this incident, fundraisers in your name against gun violence and regulations, and they way the world looked at this with their own eyes.

“Here, take a look at this,” Dami handed you her phone, a playful smile as she did. “Would be better to focus on the good.”

“Wow…” You scrolled down an infinite stream of positive and supportive messages from Somnias all over the world. Outpouring love and comfort on every social media, erasing any doubt in your mind on how the people received you. “I didn’t think they would like me that much.”

“We had the same feeling when we debuted as DreamCatcher too.” Minji added, recalling her memory. “But at the end, the ones that really love you are the ones who stick around.”

“And the ones who don’t can shove their opinions up their-”

“Bora!” Minji covered your ears quickly, as she snapped her eyes towards the other girl.

You chuckled at the image, with Dami a few steps behind trying to keep her laugh too. But the moment was interrupted quickly by a knock on the door, followed by a nurse peeking her head inside.

“Sorry for interrupting,” She excused herself, “Your family came to see you!” 

“But I don’t have a fam-” 

“I’m not shutting you up the way I would like just because you’re still healing,” Siyeon’s voice accompanied her silhouette as she entered the room, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Followed by Handong, Yoohyeon and Gahyeon, each one carrying a present in their hands. “But as your official big sister, I’ll patiently wait until that arm works again to do it so.”

The remark made you giggle as you glanced at the girls and the radiant auras they carried with them. Now surrounded by an endless supply of snacks, courtesy of Yoohyeon and Handong, the sweet smell of fresh flowers by Siyeon and a new fluffy friend to hug by Gahyeon and a lot of laughs, you couldn’t help but let some tears drop from your eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Yoohyeon approached the bed, handing you a tissue.

“This must be how it feels like…” You stuttered. “Having a family.”

“But you have one!” Gahyeon, who was sitting in the bed with you chimed in. 

“I never told you before…” You swallowed, avoiding all their glances as you searched for the courage to come clean about your past. “But I have never met my family, so as far as I know, I don’t really have one.”

You looked up, only to be received by their tender smiles. Almost as if they already knew.

“What are we? Painted?” Handong sneered, making everyone laugh instantly. You giggled too, but your wondering eyes gave up that you were still a little confused.

“Family is so much more than blood lineage Y/n,” Minji added, trying to clear your mind. “And I really like the one that we have right here.”

Something clicked in your mind, calling even more tears to your eyes but a huge smile to your face. The girls all surrounded you in a careful but very welcome and warm hug. Submerged in the comfortable silence surrounding all of you, you could listen to some of the girls crying too. 

But it didn’t matter anyway, you had everything that you ever wanted now. 

“We’ll always be here for you Y/n.” Gahyeon whispered as she took your hand in hers. “We ain’t going nowhere.”

You nodded chuckling, cleaning some of your tears away from your cheeks, but they didn’t stop coming out of your eyes.

“Well, since you're being dismissed tomorrow,” Bora tried to light up the atmosphere a little. “What should we do to celebrate?”

“I suggest an arm wrestling tournament!” Siyeon barged in with a loud chuckle, making everyone turn around to face in disapproval. “It- It was just a joke.”

“But yeah! Putting all dangerous stuff outside,” Handong giggled looking back at you. “What do you want to do tomorrow when we’re finally back home?”

You scanned around at the bright faces surrounding you, each one bringing up that warm sensation on your chest. You had no idea what you did to deserve this much love in your life, but whatever it was, there was no way you would let it slip through your fingers again.

“Wherever you are,” You answered. “I’m already home.”

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Two: Where the Heart Is

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love you have shown to part one! I’m so glad to see that you’re enjoying YBMH so far, the story is just getting started. I hope you’ll stick around for the full thing, so without further ado, here’s chapter two! As always, my inbox is open so feel free to come chat with me when you have finished this part :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 5.1k

read part one here

The phone screen flickers to life at the touch of Harry’s finger, flashing the exact same time that it had the last time he checked, though it feels like hours have passed since then. He sighs at the disappointing revelation and turns his phone over so that the screen meets the aged wood of the piano where it rests. In all honesty, Harry has no idea why he agreed to the interview in the first place. He had skillfully dodged the hundreds of requests for an exclusive tell-all following the untimely split of One Direction and successfully avoided the prying eyes of the general public for several months. So why had he indulged the first request from a girl he hardly knew without so much as a blink? The answer seemed a frustrating mystery to him, but to anyone else, the fluttering in his stomach when he caught a glimpse of her yellow Ford Bronco pulling up to the studio and the way he instinctively raked a hand through his hair gave the answer away.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry!” Alani apologizes, emerging from the car with a notebook nestled under her arm and a smoothie in each hand. She closes the door with her hip before making a beeline to the studio entrance where Harry stands, his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe with the same stoic expression Alani recognizes as his signature look.

“I had to get my sister to cover for me at the café and then I got lost because Google sent me to a Napua restaurant instead of the recording studio,” she rambles in an attempted continuation of her apology. “But anyway, this is for you. A peace offering and a thank you for doing this.”

Harry gingerly takes the green smoothie from her outstretched hand and offers a curt nod in response before ushering her inside.Alani pushes her sunglasses up and settles them into her windswept waves, trailing behind Harry and taking in the space. In one corner across the room, she notices a couple of brightly colored tapestries thumbtacked to the wall with a microphone stand perched in the center, all encased behind a screen of plexiglass. The adjacent wall is lined with guitars all standing at attention and glimmering, despite the dim lighting. Harry stops at the doorway of another room with a couch and a coffee table, the floor littered with wires and pieces of crumpled paper. He motions Alani to step inside and then clears his throat, which catches the attention of two other long-haired men chatting with amused expressions on their faces.

“Sorry lads,” Harry crosses his arms with eyes glued to the floor to avoid their questioning stares. “‘Fraid I have to intrude. Can we have this room?” 

One of the men grins behind a full beard,  popping a peanut M&M into his mouth before standing. “Sure thing, boss man. Let’s bounce, Rowland.”

The other man, also bearded but smaller in stature with a thin, pointed nose nods silently. He continues twirling two drumsticks between his fingers and points one of them at Harry in passing. Alani offers polite smiles at the both of them, and a quiet “thank you” falls from her lips as they exit without another word. Harry closes the door behind them and gestures to the couch, which she takes as her cue to sit.

“I like the uniform,” Alani smiles, gesturing to her hair as a comment on the fact that the three men all share similar lengths and styles.

“Thanks,” is all Harry says, taking a seat across from hers and clearly dismissing her attempt at humor.

To pacify the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence, Alani sips her strawberry smoothie and steals a glance through her eyelashes at Harry who is doing the same. She clears her throat after a minute and sets the drink on the table in front of her; a notebook takes its place on her lap.

“Thank you again for doing this, I really appreciate it,” Alani offers while digging through her bag for her phone. “I’m gonna record this on voice notes, just for the sake of quoting you accurately.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, occupying his gaze with the condensation trickling from the cup onto his fading black jeans. 

Dry retorts from everyone else, especially customers, have little effect on the way Alani conducts herself.  But every short comment from Harry, or lack thereof, makes her feel like a bug under a microscope. She settles her phone onto the coffee table and takes a deep breath to calm the trembling that spreads from her chest into her fingers and toes.

“So first, I wanted to ask about your time in Hawai’i. Are you enjoying it so far?” Alani poses the question lightly, hoping to open him up just enough to extract the story that she’s really looking for.

“It’s nice,” Harry nods, finally meeting her expectant stare. When she doesn’t respond for a beat, he clears his throat and adds on to the statement. “Weather’s good,”

Alani musters a half-hearted smile and glances down at the questions on her page. This is going to take for-fucking-ever, she sighs.

“Is that what drew you here—vacation? Getting away?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,”

The row of guitars behind the singer catches her attention suddenly and guides the next question.

“And to write or.. record?”

Harry shifts in his seat, calculating his response carefully. “Both,”

“Solo stuff?”

Alani watches as he takes a slow sip of his smoothie and crosses his legs, an action which tells her that she’s struck a dead end. Or, at the very least, a door that she hasn’t gained his trust to open yet.

“You were with One Direction for half a decade,” She recovers. “Constantly releasing new music and touring. But now you’re here, doing neither, and haven’t done so for almost a year. What is that transition like?” Alani isn’t sure if Harry will answer when she poses the question, but to her surprise he meets her gaze and nods, as if to say that he accepts the inquiry.

“It’s different than anything I’ve ever done, for sure,” he starts slowly. It’d be a lie to say that he hasn’t given the breakup and, subsequently, his future outside of the band much thought. He thinks about it every day, especially his bandmates and their supportive fans. That much he has been able to unpack privately, but the rest of it—the sudden need to escape and write new music— is still something he can’t quite put into words, so he leans into the nostalgia and hopes it’ll suffice.

“Like you said, it’s been non-stop for the past five years, so I guess it is a bit jarring to come to a sudden halt after so much momentum. Obviously, it’s nice to have the time off, but I love putting out music and touring it. I wouldn’t trade that for anything,”

Alani is grateful to have more than a couple of words of material, despite the fact that it doesn’t really answer the question or tell her anything new about the man sitting crossed legged and closed off in front of her. Looking through her notes, Alani selects another question and embarks on a new angle.

“You were really young when all of that began,” she starts, thinking about how she could never have left her family and home at just 16. Hell, she was 22 and still figuring it out. Hopefully, if all things went well with this interview and Rolling Stone, she would finally find the opportunity to do it. “Do you ever think about where you would be if you hadn’t auditioned for X-Factor?”

Harry knows that she’s playing it safe, trying to feel him out and test the buttons she can push. He also knows that he’s being difficult, much more so than usual due to his nerves. So with an unfamiliar pang in his chest, he decides to relent the tiniest bit.

“Well, I’m starting to think maybe I could’ve been a professional surfer,” he offers matter-of-factly which makes Alani flash an amused grin. Harry’s sudden humor makes the room a bit less suffocating for the both of them and she’s grateful for it.

“Surfing, huh? This I have to see.” she  quips back, suddenly trying to picture him ditching the black skinny jeans for a wetsuit.

He nods with a faint smirk. “Maybe you will.” 

Alani meets his gaze with a shy smile of her own and her eyes fall to his lips for a brief second. The almost imperceptible action sends another foreign jolt through Harry’s chest. She opens her mouth to resume questioning when a loud bang startles them both and causes Harry to spin in his seat, looking through the glass window of the sound booth.

“Sorry!” A man with short, blonde hair and a fading tie dye shirt laughs while lifting the tipped over drum cymbals. “Don’t mind us!”

The two men from earlier straggle in behind and poorly conceal their own fits of laughter. Harry flashes his middle finger briefly, mouthing something that Alani can’t see but knows is undoubtedly rude. She suppresses a giggle and sneaks a glance at her phone, which indicates only a few minutes worth of dialogue. When she lifts her head, the door opens and the blonde man peeks his head in.

“Hello,” he greets with an extended hand before entering and taking a seat next to Alani on the couch. “Tom Hull, or Kid Harpoon...or just Tom, whatever you like best,” 

 She accepts his hand eagerly, not missing the way Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in her peripheral vision. “Mahealani Hale, or just Alani. Nice to meet you,”

“Wow, beautiful name,” Tom compliments. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t realize you had company, H,”

“She was just—”

“I’m writing about-” The two speak at the same time, making brief eye contact before Harry turns his attention back to Tom.

“Did you need something?” He asks. Tom’s eyes dart between Harry and Alani before he clears his throat and reclines in his seat.

“Just dropping by to see if you wanted to go for lunch...” he trails off, which Alani takes as a cue to start gathering her belongings.

“Kind of busy here,” Harry offers with a glance back at the girl seated awkwardly across from him. “Another time,”

At this, Tom turns to Alani and ignores his friend’s protests. “Alani, do you eat lunch?”

Before responding, she casts an apprehensive glimpse at Harry who has suddenly become very intrigued by the drink in his lap, purposefully avoiding her eyes.

“Uh.. well yeah, but I don’t-”

“Great! Have lunch with us,”

“Mate—” Harry speaks up.

Tom grins, shrugging. “What? You plan on starving the poor girl?”

“I really can’t, but thank you for the offer,” Alani explains with a sheepish smile, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was really nice to meet you Tom. And thank you again, Harry, I’ll see you around.”

The musician watches her shuffle out of the sound booth quietly and turns his attention back at Tom, who sits with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He asks, standing. “Go after her, dickhead!”

“It’s not like that she’s-”

“I really don’t give a fuck about your excuses, go!”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window as Alani slips through the front door.

She fishes her keys out of her bag and sighs when a familiar voice says her name.

“Alani!” Harry calls from the doorway, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He makes his way down the steps and over to the driver’s side where she  ghosts the key over the ignition. 

“Come have lunch...please?” 

“It’s okay,” she purses her lips together politely. “I don’t wanna get in the way,”

Harry catches his lower lip between his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words thoughtfully. 

“No, you’re not—you won’t,” he starts. “I would really like it if you joined us for lunch, especially since our time got interrupted. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Alani can’t help the way her stomach flips at the words “our time” that fall from his lips and she finds herself nodding in agreement before her mind has had a chance to intervene. 

She makes her way to the passenger seat of the Range Rover parked behind the studio, which she learns is where all of Harry’s entourage keeps their vehicles. A variety of brightly colored vintage cars are neatly parked, and it amuses her that Harry skips all of them, instead going straight for the black SUV with darkly tinted windows. At least he’s consistent,  she smirks. As Alani climbs into the car, she is met by the warmth of Harry’s scent—something woodsy and vanilla— and the fact that she recognizes it makes her heart pound.

“You can connect your phone,” Harry nods to the stereo as he buckles his seatbelt. “To the Bluetooth, I mean, if you’d like.”

 “Really?” she asks, brow raised in mild disbelief.

“Only if you play something good,” he teases with a stony expression, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Alani takes that as a challenge, scrolling through various playlists as Harry peels away onto the main road. Over the speakers, the beginning of “Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys surrounds the two of them. 

“Is this to your liking, my liege?” Alani poses in an exaggerated British accent that makes Harry cringe, though the small grin on his face gives away his endearment.

“Yes, but please don’t do that accent ever again,” 

“So you admit it, you’re the one with the accent,” she wiggles her brows, eyes peeling away  from the view out her window to Harry in the driver’s seat.

“If it’ll get you to never do that one again, sure,” “Dunno, love,” she continues, watching the coast shimmer under the afternoon sun. “Think  it kinda suits me,”

Harry shakes his head and checks the rearview mirror to make sure that he hasn’t lost Tom, Mitch, and Jeff in the car trailing behind.

“What’s it like?” Alani questions, studying the perfect slope of his pointed nose and strawberry pout.

“What’s what like?”

“England,”

Harry thinks for a second, recalling his London flat, lunches with his mum and sister, the streets of Trafalgar Square, and Abbey Road. 

“Rainy,” is all he says.

Alani scoffs, which draws  his attention over to where she lounges in his passenger seat, sitting comfortably as if it was exactly where she belonged. “That’s all?”

“What?” He questions, though he knows exactly what she means and is perfectly aware of his own stubbornness.

“Just seems like... I don’t know, such a generic description for a place you consider home,”

Harry mulls her response over, the word “home” especially catching his interest. It’s a strange concept in his mind because while, yes, England is where he has spent the majority of his life and where the people he loves most reside, he has never truly felt connected to just one place. And after spending his formative years traveling the world, who could blame him?

“It’s... safe,” he tries again, attempting to verbalize what he’s feeling. “When I’m there, I mean, I feel safe. Like I don’t have to be anyone or do anything specific, I can just... be. No expectations,”

Alani lets Harry’s words sit between them for a moment, sensing that there is still more he wants to say. When she doesn’t respond after a minute,  he continues in an effort to clarify and fill the lull in the conversation.

“I used to think that London was just a starting point and that if I could make it to LA, it would mean that I had really made it, and I would feel more at home there,” he continues, slow and calculated. “But I dunno... when I’m there it still feels like an extended holiday,  like I’m just buying time until I leave for the next place. London doesn’t feel like that, feels much more constant... so yeah, I guess it is home,” 

As if she had read his mind earlier, Alani adds on. “Not to mention that’s where your family is, I’m assuming,” 

Harry nods, once again thinking of his mum and sister. The image of their beaming faces  brings the shadow of a dimple to his cheek.  “Yeah,”

“What’s your family like?” She continues, truly interested and forgetting for a moment about the article she still has to write.

“Kind of small, I guess. S’really just my sister and my mum, but they’re,” Harry pauses, searching for the right words, “They’re the best. My mum’s probably the kindest woman I’ve ever met. Feel pretty lucky with that one, considering what a pest I was as a child,” he chuckles lightly and it’s a sound that Alani hadn’t heard up to this point, but one she knows she’ll replay in her mind over and over again.

“Gem’s pretty patient too—and brilliant, always the studious one,” he adds finally, a dreamy look on his face that Alani much prefers to the stoic one he always dons. .

“Ah yes, there’s always one,” she nods, catching the quirked brow he offers in response.

“Oh yeah? Are you the one in your family?” 

“I guess so. School just seemed to come easily to me,”

“And what made you want to study journalism?” He questions, stopping to let a woman and her toddler cross.

Alani thinks about it for a moment while twirling a strand of fabric from the hem of her ripped shorts around her finger. 

“I’ve always loved to write, ever since I was really little— like short stories and stuff. And I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of traveling and seeking out a story, too.”

Harry nods understandingly, pulling up to a curb across the street from a restaurant that Alani has frequented. It’s relatively empty at Pineapples for a summer afternoon, though most tourists don’t stray too far from the beaches, so Hilo maintains a healthy local population at all times. The pair climb out of the car and Alani makes her way to the rear where the rest of the group has parked. One of the men from earlier greets her with an outstretched hand while Harry chats with the other two that emerge.

“Hi I’m Jeff, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly,  pushing his sunglasses into his hair. 

“Alani. It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude by not saying hi it’s just-”

Alani dismisses his concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh don’t worry about it! I was kind of nervous then, too. I don’t know if he told you, but I’m interviewing Harry,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, he did mention that I think,” Jeff recalls, “Which magazine are you with?”

“None.” Yet, Alani thinks, her mind wandering to the Rolling Stone rejection letter. “It’s for a class, I’m a journalism major. Harry was just being nice and agreed to let me write about his music,”

Jeff nods. “Got it. You know, he’s not normally this serious. Just got a lot on his mind but he’ll loosen up,” he explains quietly just as Alani and Harry’s eyes meet. She quickly averts her gaze back to the kind, bearded man standing before her.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” she smiles appreciatively.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” Harry speaks up, catching her attention. She looks back to Jeff, confused, before he shakes his head.

“Other Jeff, his manager.” He explains.

“Probably already inside, he said he’d meet us here.” Mitch pipes up.

With that, the rest of the crew head into the restaurant while Alani stays a few steps behind to follow their lead.

“Y’okay?” Harry asks, shuffling along beside her.

Alani startles slightly at his unexpected presence, but relaxes as their strides fall into sync.

“Yeah, thanks. And thank you for the invite, too.” She offers, the corners of her mouth upturned softly.  Harry responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own and clears his throat before holding the door open for her.

In the far corner of the restaurant near the open balcony, Harry’s manager Jeff waves the group over to the table he saved. Everyone exchanges greetings and settles into their seats, the two at the end facing each other remain open for Alani and Harry.

“Jeff, this is..Mahealani, did I get that right?” Tom gestures to Alani for approval.

She nods and waves. “Yes, but you can just call me Alani,”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff calls from the other end of the table, glancing over to Harry in search of  an explanation for her presence.

“I’m writing a piece about Harry and his music,” Alani offers. “But I’d love to talk to all of you, if you have a chance.”

Jeff nods, still shooting Harry a knowing look. “Yeah, sure thing.” 

The two Jeffs, Tom, and Mitch engage in their own conversations, mostly inside jokes that go over Alani’s head. Harry watches, silent for most of the interaction and barely engaging the girl seated across from him, though he is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. When the server comes to take their order, warmth floods to Alani’s cheeks.

“Alani, hey!” the tall server greets, flashing a handsome, pearly-white smile. “Long time, no see. You’re looking good as always,”

“Mahalo, David. You look good, as well,” She smiles politely, catching onto the way that Harry sits a little straighter in her peripheral vision. David still pays no regard to the rest of the table, but his gaze momentarily flickers over Harry and sizes him up before returning to Alani.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were on a date,” he apologizes, which makes Alani’s eyes bulge  and Mitch snicker beside her. 

“Oh no, we’re not—“

“He’s just—” Alani and Harry speak at the same time, eyes darting to one another before she explains.

“I’m... working on something—an article,” she says, and David nods understandingly.

“Oh...right. Big-shot reporter, I almost forgot,” David teases in a snide way that makes Harry’s blood boil with annoyance. “Anyways, what can I get you all? The usual for you, right Alani?”

She nods curtly while the rest of the group take turns ordering. After the server has gone,  Harry notices a shift in her easy-going demeanor and decides that it’s his turn to break the ice.

“Come here often then?” He poses gently, taking a sip of his lemonade.

Her lips press into a tight line as her eyes wander to the other patrons. “Yeah, kinda,”

“Asshole ex-boyfriend ruined that, I’m guessing?”

Alani lets out an amused breath and shakes her head.

“He’s not my ex. I mean we went out, like, once in high school... and maybe a handful of times in college but that’s it, really,” 

Harry studies the uneasiness in her expression trying, and failing, to understand what she’s holding back.

“Seems like you dodged a bullet,” he confides, leaning in. Alani’s eyes meet his and her pursed lips ease into a small grin, which Harry mirrors with a simper of his own. As he rests his smooth chin in his palm, she notices a large, healing scab along the underside of his forearm, and her brows furrow.

“How’d that happen?” Alani asks.

“He jumped out a window,” Mitch intervenes. “Though to be fair, he was high,”

Harry shoots a deathly glare at Mitch and turns back to Alani. “It was a one-time thing.”

“It was shrooms,” Mitch replies with an amused smirk.

“Hardcore,” Alani giggles lightly. 

Mitch swirls the straw in his mimosa with his index finger while extending a pinky at Alani. “You do drugs?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Mai Tai. “Smoked weed a few times, though not enough to consider myself a pothead, I guess,”

Mitch snorts and steals a glance at Harry. “Pot makes our boy sleepy, and hungry. Alcohol makes him giggly. Shrooms get him buzzed just right,”

Harry’s cheeks flush and he averts his gaze past Alani where families and visitors roam the streets outside. 

“Jumping out a window’s  ‘just right’? I’d hate to see what going overboard looks like.” she teases, watching the blush of embarrassment creep across the bridge of Harry’s nose and cheeks.

“Keeps things interesting.” Mitch shrugs, turning back to Jeff to join his previous conversation.

 Alani feels a strange sense of endearment wash over her at the thought of a giggly Harry, dimples replacing a deeply furrowed brow. In the short time she’d known and served him at the café, she’d only ever seen him reserved—polite, at best. Alani had hoped that interviewing Harry would provide some insight into his mysterious background, but she didn’t imagine that she would want to know more than what could be penned in her article. In the few minutes spent mingling with him and his friends, she began to think that maybe there was something worth getting to know, not just professionally, but before she can give it a second thought, David returns with their food.

“Thanks, Derek.” Harry says, flashing a facetious grin at David who stands confused for a second before sauntering back to the kitchen. Alani laughs, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth, and Harry’s stomach flips at the sound. He immediately wishes he knew what else he could do to hear it again.

Alani scrapes the last bits of potato off her plate and leans back in her seat, patting her growing food baby. 

“I’m thinking of naming mine Oliver, you?” She sighs contentedly. 

“Anne, after my mum,” he quips back, pulling out his wallet.

Alani reaches into her bag for her own, but Harry shakes his head and speaks up. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s on me,”

“Oh, no Harry you really don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, slipping his card onto the small clipboard attached to their receipts.

“Thank you,” Alani smiles, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, but she assumes that it’s mostly due to the rum in her system.

Harry pushes a lock of hair behind his ear and returns the wallet to his back pocket without another word. While there is no alcohol coursing through his blood, he refuses to believe that the burning in his cheeks has anything to do with the girl seated before him.

Alani climbs back into the passenger’s seat of the SUV while Harry settles behind the wheel. He braces his right hand behind the headrest of her seat and skillfully reverses, only becoming aware of their proximity when he turns back to switch gears. Alani peels her eyes from his and focuses on finding a playlist for their journey back to the studio, her mind racing as she clicks shuffle. Harry’s arm retreats, much to Alani’s disappointment, and his ears perk up when he hears the familiar chimes at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere”.

“‘S a good one,” Harry breaks the silence, tapping on the steering wheel. “Christine always says it’s her favorite,”

“Christine...McVie?” Alani questions with an eyebrow quirked. “You know Christine McVie?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Do you know Stevie Nicks?”

“Yeah. She lives in London,”

“Holy shit!” Alani marvels, covering her mouth in excitement.

Harry chuckles lightly, stealing a glance over at Alani still processing the news. “Big fan?” 

She whips her head away from the window and scoffs. “Massive. Named my car Stevie, actually,”

“Hardcore,” Harry teases, echoing her own comment about his psychedelic escapades.

“Yes, Mr. Spider-Man. In my own right, I suppose it is hardcore,” Alani retorts.

“I thought  Spider-Man climbed buildings. Don’t think he jumped out of them.”

“I’m sure he’s done his fair share of both.”

The two drive down the coast for a while without a word, Harry drumming against the steering wheel as the song dies out while Alani soaks in the view outside her window. Suddenly, she reaches over and taps him on the arm, drawing him out of his reverie. 

“Turn right up there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, already putting his blinker on. 

Alani doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry saw it just seconds after turning into the lookout and it left him breathless. The car comes to a stop and Alani wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping into the humid air, Harry close behind. Before them, the biggest rainbow either of them had ever seen shimmers in the high afternoon sun like a wall of unbelievable vibrant hues. Harry had never seen one this close, he felt as though he could reach out and feel each color slip through his fingers. 

“Are you making a wish?” Alani asks reverently, as if raising her voice too loud will spook it away. 

“I thought that was for shooting stars,”

“We’re literally staring face to face with a rainbow and you’re gonna argue with me about the logistics of a wish?”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, grinning to himself as his eyes flutter close. 

Harry takes a deep breath and searches his brain for something, anything, but there is only one word pounding in his mind. He doesn’t know why it stood out to him when Alani first said it, but it struck a chord within him that hasn’t stopped reverberating, so it must mean something. Harry swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat and releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. When his eyes flutter open again, he steals a peek through the corner of his eye at the girl beside him and then fixes his gaze back on the rainbow. 

“S’quite big, innit?” He remarks, breaking the reverent silence. 

Alani snorts and shakes her head, turning on her heel back to the car. 

“You’re so eloquent. Can’t wait to hear what lyrical gems are hiding in your new album,”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, climbing behind the wheel. “Who said anything about an album?” 

As they peel away from the lookout, Harry can sense something has shifted in the atmosphere, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He opts to ignore it and poses a lighthearted question instead. 

“What’d you wish for?”

Alani narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell. It won’t come true.”

Harry hums, trying to imagine what she could possibly wish for that would require such secrecy, but his thoughts wander back to the singular word that has haunted his mind since it left her lips. 

Home.

Next Chapter

[cherryrogers]

➸ call me baby {3/3}

BROOKLYN

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | biker au

warnings: Swearing, smoking.

word count: 8k

synopsis: Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker. And when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either. That was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

series masterlist

a/n: jfc,,, i can’t believe i’ve finally finished writing this lmao i’m sorry it took so long my dudes. thank you to everyone who has shown support for this fic, and i hope you all enjoy the final part !!💛

“I’m going to miss having you around, _____. It’s been nice having another girl here who isn’t afraid to put a shitty customer in their place.” Wanda smiled, handing you a white envelope with your final salary enclosed inside.

Folding the envelope and tucking it into your jean pocket, you chuckled heartily. “I think you and your pistol will do just fine without me. Thanks for having me here for the summer, Wan. I wouldn’t even be leaving if it wasn’t for this job.”

Her grin widened as she pulled you into a warm hug. “There’ll always be a job here for you — summer, winter, any time you need it.”

After you’d said one final thanks and goodbye to Wanda, you exited the bar doors for the last time and crossed the sidewalk to where Peggy was waiting in her car for you. In a matter of hours, you’d be spending the night in Brooklyn one last time, and your summer would be over.

Initially, you were expecting a couple of months solely spent with your best friend. Lounging on shimmering sandy beaches, drinking wine and laughing till dusk in your backyard, listening to her harp on about her dreamy new boyfriend while you rambled about all the places you’d visited. You couldn’t have imagined it to be more different than it was. Sure, you had done all of that with Peggy, but she wasn’t the only one that’d shaped your summer. Following the motorcycle ride at five in the morning with a certain biker, you’d only grown more attached to each other. He couldn’t ever keep his hands off you, and you couldn’t ever bring yourself to leave the clubhouse after a day spent with him. If the rest of the club ever caught on to yours and Bucky’s affair, then they never mentioned it. You were sure that was because of Peggy. She knew it was better to leave you be, considering Bucky was the first person you’d opened your heart to in a long time.

Some days were spent simply in his bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear under his silk sheets, constantly switching between telling one another about your lives, your childhoods, passions, fears, and stripping out of your little clothing and letting yourselves completely give into each other. Some days were spent wandering the streets of Brooklyn hand in hand, Bucky showing you all the alleys and parks he’d found Steve attempting to fight guys twice the size of him, you pointing out the diners and stores you used to drag Peggy to on the weekends in high school. Every day was spent getting to know one another though, and every day spent with Bucky was never a day wasted. The only down side to every moment your were with him was that they’d only add up to it hurting even more when you inevitably left, and that time was arriving very soon.

Peggy drove you home from the bar to collect your packed backpack and suitcase before bringing you down to the clubhouse for the rest of the night. She teased you about going soft since you’d gotten close to Bucky, wanting to spend your last night with your summer love as she called him. The girl received an unimpressed glare for the comment, but what she said wasn’t exactly untrue. If you’d told yourself a year ago that your summer in Brooklyn would find you all starry-eyed for a biker you’d only just met in June, you would’ve likely pushed aside any plan to return to the place at all. Peggy would forced your ass back to Brooklyn, of course; perhaps there would’ve always been something that led you back to your hometown, to him. Christ, you were getting soft.

There was a crease between your brows as you retrieved the envelope of cash from your pocket and gently ripped it open in your lap. It felt a little... thicker than it usually was — more than what you normally earned from a week’s worth of work. As your eyes met the wad of green bills inside, they widened in shock. Yep, definitely more than your usual salary. Way more to just be a mistake on Wanda’s part.

The large sum of cash even caught Peggy’s eye from her place in the driver’s seat. “Wanda must’ve really taken a liking to you. Perhaps doubling your salary is a plea to make you stay.”

A breathless laugh escaped your lips as you ran your thumb over the edges of the bills. “If it is, that girl knows exactly what she’s doing. Maybe travelling isn’t my true calling after all.”

While they was a playfulness to your tone, you couldn’t help but notice the brunette’s smile falter at your words. Peggy was like you in a way; she wasn’t soft, often being as upfront and stubborn as you were. However, she didn’t like opening up to people about herself all that much. Not that you were necessarily thriving in that department either, but when it came to Steve, she’d said it’d took her a while to even mention her brother’s passing to him. He hadn’t known she even had a brother before Peggy brought it up a long while after they’d began dating. Peggy possessed a lot of self confidence, and she had every right to do so. Being vulnerable and open just tended to put her at unease, and when you caught her acting a little off, it took some gentle coaxing to get her to open up.

“Are you okay?” You offered her a comforting smile, to which she didn’t quite return.

“Peachy,” She replied half-heartedly, hands tightening on the steering wheel. Glancing briefly at you, she spotted the crinkle in your brows and your pursed lips. Seeing as you never took your eyes off her, she sighed. “What is it?”

“Peggy, I don’t know how long it’s gonna be before I see you again. If something’s up, please tell me.”

Her tongue hesitantly ran across her bottom lip, fingers readjusting on the steering wheel. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just... I didn’t realise how much I’d missed having you here. I know it’s selfish, but I’d be lying if I said I was excited to see you off tomorrow.”

You shuffled in your seat, turning to face your friend more directly. “It’s not selfish, Pegs. Of course you don’t want me to go, I’m the shining light of your life—”

“_____...”

“Sorry, I know I’m annoying. Can’t help it,” You apologised, internally cursing yourself out. One serious conversation. You can have one serious conversation, come on. “I mean it, though; I don’t think it’s selfish. If you were jetting off to London tomorrow, I’d feel the same— oh, red light!”

The car came to an abrupt stop in front of the traffic lights, your seatbelt pressing tightly against you chest. Before you could reprimand your friend and tell her that putting you in hospital isn’t a viable way to stop you from leaving, she was turning to you with a surprised stare.

“You’re going to London? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I mean, I actually just made the decision five minutes ago, but yeah, I’m going to London.”

Peggy let out a disbelieving laugh. “You haven’t even booked your flight yet?”

“I didn’t even have the money to go an hour ago!” You exclaimed. “But with all this cash from Wanda, I think I’ll be able to make it there. I’ve been travelling the US for a year now, Pegs. I wanna go somewhere new. Somewhere fresh, the land of milky tea and buttery crumpets. I can go to the Queens house—”

“You have a lot of nerve saying all of this to someone who was born in England.” She glared softly, pressing her foot down on the gas when the green light appeared.

An amused smile crept onto your lips. “Hm, I will need someone to Facetime twenty four-seven to tell me all the places I need to visit, preferably English and born in London...”

“So you’ll talk to me solely because my nationality is of use to you?”

You rolled your eyes. “I might miss you a little bit too.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s hard being without you too, you know,” You spoke more seriously, catching Peggy slightly off guard. “Travelling is great and all, but some days I do wake up in my motel room and wish I was back home, spending the day with my best friend.”

While her eyes were still focused on the road, a warm smile was clearly pulling at the brunette’s lips. “Just... don’t stay away for too long this time, okay?”

“You’ll see me again before next summer, I promise.”

“Hm, I’m going to need that in writing.”

“I’ll even record a video for you; I’ll buy a tripod, get some good lighting, one of those fluffy microphones—”

Peggy cut you off with a hearty chuckle, dark, conditioned curls bouncing as she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m actually going to miss your ability to make a joke out of everything.”

You scoffed, placing a hand on your chest in mock shock. “Christ, now that is something that needs to be in writing. I’m hiring us a lawyer, he can draw us both up contracts.”

“Dont forget to book your flight first.” Peggy chimed in.

“Right, I have a lot of things I need to do today. Bucky’s gonna have to give me a minute before he can have me to himself... and I’ll need to lend his computer.”

As your gaze averted to the passing by buildings out of the car window, Peggy grinned contentedly to herself. She could see exactly why you’d been the one Bucky had really fallen for, though she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d handle your departure to a whole other continent.

However, you’d promised you were coming back soon, and there wasn’t a doubt in Peggy’s mind that he’d be counting down the hours once you stepped onto your flight.

* * *

“London, huh?” Bucky’s voice caught your attention as he entered the office, a beer bottle in each hand.

As you confirmed the booking of your flight for the next morning, you swirled around in the cushioned desk chair, taking one of the bottles once the man had approached you. “Did Peggy spill the beans already?”

“Heard her talkin’ to Steve in the garage,” He pressed his own bottle to his lips, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t seem like five minutes since you first arrived, when you came into the backyard in those little black and white shorts.”

Standing up, you shot him an eye roll. “I’m sure that’s all you can remember from that day, perv.”

“What do you remember then?”

You hummed, leaning into Bucky as you let his arms envelop your waist. “I remember wondering why everyone was wearing leather jackets in eighty degree weather. Oh, and that I thought you were a dick.”

The biker didn’t seem offended in the slightest at your statement, only grinning and pulling you closer. “Hm, and what about the day at the carnival? Wasn’t that a good day?”

“No, I had to endure you flirting with those girls in front of us in the drop tower line. I was almost sick before we even got on the ride.”

“Oh, that?” He let out a laugh, cheeks faintly tinting pink. “I was only trying to make you a little jealous. Seems like it worked.”

You scoffed. “It did not work,” It definitely had worked.

“You liked when I held your hand on the ride though, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You know what? Fine. I did,” You admitted, eliciting a smug smile from Bucky. “But I’m only admitting that ‘cause I’m leaving tomorrow. Don’t think I’m going soft on you.”

He ran his tongue along his lower lip, leaning closer to speak against your lips. “Wouldn’t be stupid enough to dream of it.”

Smiling in satisfaction, you moved an inch closer and let his lips meet yours, a warm feeling emerging in your chest. The kiss remained gentle as your fingers pushed some of his hair away from his face, before you pulled back reluctantly to breathe. Blue eyes pierced into yours after fluttering open almost hazily.

“Would it be stupid to ask you to stay?” Bucky asked quietly, though he knew the answer already.

A weak nod and an empathetic smile; you pecked the corner of his lips before stepping back completely as if you suddenly felt you’d been standing too close. Bucky had never seen you holding your tongue, but that seemed to be what you were doing as you put some distance between the two of you.

There was an uncomfortable silence, the warmth from your body dissipated and replaced with an aching coldness. Perhaps telling yourself all summer that you could worry about yours and Bucky’s future at the end of August was a terribly bad idea, because now it was hitting you — maybe there’s wasn’t a future for the two of you at all.

“I’ll wait for you, you know.” The biker’s voice broke the quiet, the words slicing through you.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Bucky. I don’t think I can ask you to do that.” You breathed, meeting his eyes hesitantly.

“You’re not asking me to, I want to,” He stated, worrying his teeth over his bottom lip. “Unless... that’s not what you really want?”

Truthfully, the idea of Bucky seeing anyone else once you’d left made your stomach turn. In an ideal world, you’d like it if he was just yours. Only yours, because you guaranteed that there wasn’t anybody else that could make you feel the way that he did. But you couldn’t force him to wait for a girl that strayed away from their hometown for longer than they stayed, no matter how much it’d end up hurting you.

“It wouldn’t be fair, Bucky, to either of us. We can’t really be together when I’m only gonna come back for the holidays—”

“Was this just a summer thing to you?” He questioned, a mix of regret and frustration flashing in his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have asked that, but some part of him was oddly curious to.

Your previously calm expression turned sour as you furrowed your brows and scoffed. “You’re—you’re kidding, right? Did you just— of course it wasn’t just a summer thing to me, you asshole.”

Admittedly, it hurt that he’d even had the nerve to think that. You’d asked him if you shouldn’t have started something together that inevitably was going to end and he said he didn’t regret it. While being together could technically only last for the summer months, it wasn’t just a fling. There were feelings there that you weren’t going to be able to shake off, memories that were going to be carved into your mind forever. Did he seriously think that it was all just temporary on your part?

“Then would staying really be so bad?” Bucky retorted. What he was saying was only making you angrier, but he couldn’t help but be honest. Perhaps it just hadn’t hit him that you were really leaving in less than twenty four hours until that very moment, and everything that left him mouth was coming from a deep place of, well, sadness.

You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re being selfish.”

“Aren’t I allowed to be? We’ve spent a whole summer together and this time tomorrow you’re gonna be thousands of miles away from here—”

“And you don’t think I’ll be hurt either?” You intervened, cocking a brow. “You think I’ll be skipping through the airport utterly thrilled to be leaving you?”

Bucky was silent, too silent for too long. You scoffed, ignoring the way he was biting down in his cheek and the faint glossiness of his eyes in your annoyance. “You knew I was gonna have to leave eventually, Bucky. If you knew weren’t going to be able to accept that... then you never should’ve asked me to stay that night.”

That night; no further explanation was needed to identify which of the many nights spent together you were talking about. It was that night when you fell inexplicably hard for Bucky, when you decided that you might never have the chance to fall in the way you’d fallen for him ever again and that you’d only regret not staying the night. Not letting him strip you of your clothes and shed his own, not letting him make love to you, not letting him wake up to you admiring his every feature. If he knew he wouldn’t be able to let you go so easily, then having you stay that night was purely unwise of him.

When Bucky didn’t you respond one again after a few moments, you sighed deeply, crossing your arms over your chest. Though your expression had softened, your tone was still rather cold. “It’s never been just a fling with you, and if after all the damn time we’ve been spending together you thought there was a chance I might’ve thought that, then maybe you don’t feel the way I thought you felt about me at all.”

The biker’s features fell as he watched you chew your bottom lip and stalk towards the door — doubting his feelings for you was the last thing he wanted you to do. He let his boot collide with the bottom of his desk in frustration as you shut the office door behind you.

He hadn’t meant to start a dispute. It was your last god damn night in Brooklyn, of course he didn’t want to spend it receiving the cold shoulder from you. You’d probably gone out and found the rest of the guys, perhaps even went to drag Peggy aside to tell her how much of a dick he’d just been, which he’d understand. He had a feeling you wouldn’t do that though; instead you’d go out and pretend everything was fine because you wouldn’t dare let anyone know that he’d managed to hurt your feelings — always so stubborn.

Relationships were not Bucky’s forte. It’s not like he’d ever been looking for one; he was still young, he had still wanted to have fun for a little while before finally settling down like his mother had been bugging him to since he’d moved out. While he wasn’t the type to sleep with a girl and never call them again, he wasn’t exactly the type to, well... sleep with a girl and do anything else with them. He hated the talking stages of a relationship, despised them with all his being. Everyone he knew insisted that he had to get through them to actually have a deeper relationship with someone, but he really just couldn’t will himself to do it. So when there didn’t seem to be a weird talking stage with you, he was pretty happy about it.

It wasn’t like he was forcing himself to try and develop a connection with you, he’d hardly been interested in dating anyone when you’d first arrived. But then it all happened so naturally and now look at the two of you — well, you were mad at him and he was standing in the office alone like an idiot.

He knew better than to follow you outside and try to play friendly with you in front of everyone else. Giving you and himself a bit of time to cool off and think, Bucky took a shower upstairs in his bathroom. The longer the hot water pelted his skin, the more he felt like an asshole for what he’d said to you. He couldn’t just ask you to stay for him, that was wrong for a start. That was definitely selfish. Accusing you of thinking it was just a fling too? Christ, what was he thinking? He didn’t actually think that you thought of him as a fling, he just stupidly asked that in the heat of the moment when he was frustrated that you one hundred percent didn’t want to stay.

Maybe he ought to get out of the shower before he steamed up the whole clubhouse and make things right.

As Bucky neared the bottom of the staircase after putting on some clothes and towel-drying his hair, he bumped into Steve, who seemed to be heading towards the living room.

“Hey, Buck. We’re starting a movie soon. _____’s just finishin’ her cigarette out back; you two joining us?”

Bucky plastered on a smile, shaking his head. Perhaps he sounded selfish, but watching a movie with everyone wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to spend his last night with you. “I don’t think so, man. Another night.”

“Suit yourself.” The blond patted his friend’s shoulder before allowing him to scoot past him and head outside.

The sky was a deep blue, the sparse, grey clouds almost bleeding into the dark hue as the stars began to peek through the dusky blanket. A single garden lamp lit up the area, just about showing your figure sitting on the picnic bench that’d never been replaced since they’d moved into the clubhouse. Between your parted lips rested the remains of a cigarette, smoke twirling through the slight breeze that’d picked up once the sun went down.

You didn’t flinch as Bucky slid onto the bench next to you, and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to when the two of you had met. At that time, he was sat in your spot exhaling clouds of smoke, not knowing who you were when you first walked outside. Fast forward to now and you were exactly where he was all those weeks ago, except now he wasn’t sure what he was going to do without you.

“You mind if I take a drag of that?” He spoke up suddenly, suppressing a smile at the way you paused in your actions.

While you didn’t offer him the stick between your fingers, your loosened grip on it silently gave Bucky the permission to pluck it out of your hand into his own, which he did. After taking a long drag of the cigarette, he stubbed it out on the ashtray to his right before turning his attention to you.

“I know we aren’t a summer fling to you. I- I know how you feel about me, because I feel the same way.”

Bucky felt himself relax a little as you faced him, no longer staring off into the night. A slight frown pulled at your lips; he didn’t like the sight. “If I was going to stay for anything, or anyone, it’d be you, you know.”

Not sure what to say, the biker only gave you a nod of acknowledgment, taken aback by the statement. He wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or something he shouldn’t be happy with.

“There’s a difference between me wanting to stay and wanting to be with you,” You bit down on your bottom lip. “I don’t wanna stay, but if you asked me... if you asked me to stay again to be with you, I probably wouldn’t get on my flight tomorrow.”

Breath hitching, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You’d stay if I asked you to again?”

The look in your eyes was enough of an answer. If he asked you to stay, you’d say yes. Yes to waking up beside him during the colder fall mornings. Yes to motorcycle rides to anywhere and everywhere. Yes to never having to worry about how much time you have left together, because you’d stayed; you weren’t leaving Brooklyn anymore.

Saying yes to that however, would mean saying goodbye London, to travelling. Exploring different cultures, trying new food, experiencing a part of the world you never thought you could reach as a child. No more reading in motel rooms until midnight. No more tours around cities with a camera wrapped around your neck. No more living the life you’d been dreaming of since you’d barely started middle school — you weren’t ready to let go of that just yet, and Bucky didn’t have to read your mind to know that.

“I’m not gonna ask you to stay again,” He declared, prompting you to raise a brow. “I’m not gonna be a jackass and make you stay if that’s not what you wanna do.”

To his joy, your frown slowly curled into a soft smile. “I know your heart’s in the right place, Buck. That you weren’t trying to start an argument. And— and I can’t stop you from waiting for me if that’s what you wanna do. I’ll be back at some point, but I just don’t want you to put your life on hold for me, you know?”

“I wouldn’t be puttin’ it on hold. I wasn’t planning on finding someone I— I liked so much ever, really. I don’t know if it’ll happen again,”

Your heart — it was going to explode. Who knew you’d ever meet someone that had the power to make you feel so... disgustingly lovesick.

“...unless you happen to take a liking to a London boy while you’re there...?”

You chuckled, a warm sound amid the cool night. “London, Paris, Berlin... none of those boys will ever come close to the one I have in Brooklyn.”

A wide grin spread across the biker’s lips. “Who’s the sap now, huh?”

With a playful eye roll, you couldn’t help but place your hand on Bucky’s jaw, caressing it with your thumb as you leaned in and captured his lips.

He reacted immediately, putting a hand on your outer thigh to pull you closer to his side.

Wherever you were in the world, you’d always have Bucky in Brooklyn — he hoped that you didn’t doubt that.

* * *

Too many mornings spent lazing in Bucky’s bed meant that reality hadn’t yet set in after a few minutes of being awake. It was so natural at this point, to wake up and feel the warmth of him next to you, to have your legs tangled with his and to feel his nose grazing against the back of your neck.

Turning around in his arms, you leaned in and laid a kiss on his nose, smirking at the way he scrunched it in response before pinching at your bare hip. You smacked his hand away before settling your head back against the pillow, gazing at him through your lashes.

“Have I ever told you beautiful you are?” You asked without a second thought.

Heat evidently pooled in Bucky’s cheeks, and you rested a hand on the side of his face before he could roll himself over to hide his embarrassment.

“I’m serious.” You pressed.

“I know,” He grinned, voice raspy with sleep; he knew you never lied to him, you were as honest as they got. “And no, you haven’t told me.”

“Well, now I have. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up.”

“Never.”

Bucky sighed, tracing a hand down the curve of your back. He could keep you there forever, laying so close to him and calling him beautiful. If someone would’ve told him at the start of the summer that this was where he’d be by the end of it, he would’ve laughed in their face. “Where’d that come from, huh? You’re being scarily nice.”

“I’m trying to be sentimental, jerk.”

“Oh, right,” He smirked. “Just like last night when you told me to fuck—”

You interrupted him with a finger pressed to his lips. “I think that was pretty sentimental in its own way, actually.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky kissed your fingertip gently. He had a feeling you were being a little softer than usual since the circumstances of the day were different. You weren’t sure when your next moment like this would be, if there ever would be one. Truthfully, there was an ache in his heart that was caused by that thought too. He sighed, almost sadly. “What time’s your flight?”

“Eleven.”

“Well, I think that leaves us enough time for me to show you how beautiful I think you are...” He trailed his hand lower down your spine and followed the curve of your ass.

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder to the small clock sat on the bedside table. It was nearly nine. There was just over an hour until you had to be at the airport...

“Thirty minutes, then we have to get up. Peggy will be up and banging on the door for us otherwise.”

“More than enough time, baby.”

That was a lie, however. It wasn’t nearly enough time, because once the two of you finally pried yourselves out from underneath the sheets, it hit you that that was the last time in a long time that you’d wake up in Bucky’s bed. The last time you’d be able to have him so close to you. It made you wonder what life would’ve been like if you met him before you first left to travel. If you’d fallen for him that hard so long ago, would you even have left Brooklyn in the first place?

You both took your time getting dressed, you tossing on a tank top and some leggings from your packed suitcase while Bucky put on his signature biker attire. He smugly asked if he could keep a pair of your underwear as a memoir; you told him to go fuck himself before planting a kiss on his lips. It was amazing how quickly he could switch between acting like a dick and being a sweetheart. You’d miss that, admittedly.

Everyone was eating breakfast in the kitchen when the two of you made it downstairs, the sound of your suitcase thumping against the steps signalling your presence. It was rare that you and Bucky ever saw the morning outside of his bedroom in the clubhouse, and that was proved by the raised brows and mock gasps you recieved when you entered into the room. You rested the suitcase against the doorframe as Bucky strided towards the counter, clearly eyeing the half-full pack of cigarettes placed on there.

As he reached for them, Steve looked up from his bacon and eggs, a frown pulling at his lips. “Hey, you can’t just smoke and call it breakfast.”

“I haven’t had breakfast for months,” The brunet snorted. “Don’t think it matters that much.”

“Have some coffee at least?” Steve pushed.

Cocking his brow, Bucky glanced over to you in hope of you having his back. It wasn’t like you’d had breakfast since before summer either, but you weren’t going to let the guy smoke for breakfast. Not when everyone else had a hot meal and the scent alone was making your mouth water.

“How about we get something at the airport?” You offered, strolling over to the seat next to Peggy and sitting down.

“You’re not going the airport so soon, are you?” She asked, sipping her coffee.

“Well, my flight leaves in two hours—”

The brunette almost choked on her coffee, prompting Steve to gently pat her back as she recovered. “Two hours? Oh my— why are you sitting down? We need to go—”

“Would you calm down?” You chuckled, placing a hand on Peggy’s forearm as she started to rise from her seat. She was right, though. You were cutting it very short by still being at the clubhouse when you wanted to grab some breakfast too. You moved your gaze to Bucky. “I mean, maybe we should go now...”

While he looked reluctant to nod, Bucky did so anyway, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle from his designated hook on the the wall next to the light switch.

“Hey genius, how am I gonna put my suitcase on your bike?” You furrowed your brows, grinning as the realisation hit him.

“Uh...”

“Bucky can take you on his bike,” The blond perked up, standing next to his girlfriend. “Peg and I can take the jeep with your suitcase.”

Looking to your best friend for permission, you smiled when she gave you a sure nod. She knew how much it would mean to you if your were able to ride with Bucky one more time. “Go on, we’ll be right behind you.”

After thanking her, you grabbed your suitcase and said your goodbyes to those sitting around the table. Though you didn’t speak to them as much as you’d wished you had, you’d still miss them. You all shared the same sense of humour, having a laugh with them was easy when you spent the day with the group, even when you were all simply lazing around the clubhouse. You gave each of them a quick hug, rolling your eyes when Clint told you to ‘have a right good time in London’ with a horrible English accent.

Bucky lead you out of the house, handing you a helmet and kissing the crown of your head quickly before climbing onto the bike. He didn’t say anything as you got on behind him, enveloping his waist and comfortably setting your chin on his shoulder. With every passing moment, you could tell that he wasn’t looking forward to finally waving you off at the airport. Usually when he was getting grumpy, you’d make a stupid comment about it and it seemed to cheer him up; it didn’t feel right to do so in this instance.

So as the the bike roared to life, you turned to look at the clubhouse. The place where you’d spent the majority of your summer, where you’d met everyone, where you’d met Bucky, where you’d kissed him for the first time, done other things for the first time. It’d become another home to you in a way, like a place you’d always be welcome back to. You hoped you’d always be welcome there anyway, even after being gone for months on end once you stepped onto your flight.

It’d barely taken thirty minutes to get to JFK Airport, Peggy’s jeep only a few cars behind you as you wound through the streets of New York. Bucky noticed when you didn’t start cussing out the bad drivers that were practically skimming the side of his bike like always, your head never leaving its place against his back. It was unlike you, but he didn’t mind. Perhaps like him you were just savouring the moment, the last ride you’d have for a while. Christ, Bucky had never felt so many emotions at once. He didn’t know whether to fall to his knees and beg you not to forget him or to kiss you passionately and tell you he’d be waiting for your return. To maintain his dignity, he decided against the former option.

Almost too fast for your liking, you arrived just outside of the entrance, climbing off the motorcycle reluctantly and spying the jeep just coming to park behind you. It wouldn’t be able to stay parked there for long, and you felt an ache in your chest as you saw Peggy stepping out of her car, Steve not far behind her pulling your suitcase along.

He handed it to you with a smile which you returned as you took it from him. Setting it beside you, you let out a sad chuckle upon realising how glazed over Peggy’s eyes were.

“I’m not about to cry, before you say anything,” She stated, plastering on a grin. “It’s just allergies.”

“Allergies my ass,” You smirked, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around her neck, grinning into her shoulder as she hugged you back tightly. You spoke again, this time more quietly next to her ear. “I love you, okay? And I won’t hesitate to fly back here and beat Steve’s ass if he does anything, I swear.”

Truthfully, you didn’t think Steve was capable of hurting a fly, never mind the smartest, kindest, most gorgeous woman you knew. However, Jay-Z was capable of cheating on Beyoncé — Beyoncé, so being a little sceptical of any man you met wasn’t unreasonable, in your opinion.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” She chuckled. “You just focus on looking after yourself, alright?”

“Right,” You responded. “And... you’ll keep an eye on Bucky for me, won’t you?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Bucky, or that you wanted a daily report of what he was up to while you were gone. You just wanted to know that he was going to be okay. Being apart would be hard on both of you, but you’d been doing the ‘being alone’ thing for over a year now, and you had a feeling that there was more to how he felt about you leaving than he was letting on. Even when he said he wasn’t going to ask you to stay again, you still felt like he wasn’t as okay with the situation as he was acting to be.

“Of course I will, Steve too,” The brunette assured you, giving you a final squeeze before beginning to pull back. “I love you too,” She sighed, returning to her place stood next to Steve. “Right, you know where you’re going after you arrive, yes? If not, you can call me and I’ll give you directions to the motel. If you’re hungry I know there’s a takeaway place just outside of the airport—”

“Pegs, I’ll be fine. I’m going to London, not Narnia.”

“Just— just be safe, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

“_____—”

“I’m kidding! How about you learn to take a joke while I’m gone, huh?”

You smiled as Peggy rolled her eyes in amusement. Perhaps she wouldn’t be as amused if she knew about what happened with Brock Rumlow at the bar. You decided you’d tell her in London when you were in a whole other continent, otherwise she might not have let you leave in fear that you’d be getting into more trouble at English bars with assholes like Brock. Even if you did, Peggy knew you weren’t soft, you could handle yourself. She just worried that you were a little too unafraid of confrontation.

Turning to Bucky and picking your suitcase back up, you have him a slight tug on his hand. “We should probably go for breakfast now, I’ll be boarding soon.”

He nodded, offering to take your suitcase and rolling his eyes when you made a comment about him being ‘such a gentlemen’. You gave the blond a quick hug, warning him to take care of Peggy and grinning as he teased you about being more like her mother than her best friend, before saying a final goodbye to the two of them, giving your friend’s hand a final squeeze and turning away to head into the airport.

There was just over an hour until you had to be on the plane, so you and Bucky decided to head into cafe near the entrance and get a proper breakfast. Two steaming black coffees sat opposite each other on the small booth in the corner you were sat at, complimenting the stacks of pancakes dripping in syrup and sugar that you’d impulsively ordered and that Bucky had insisted on paying for, saying that you should save all your cash for exploring London.

“I’ll probably come back for Christmas.” You said in repsonse to him asking how long you’d be travelling for this time, stuffing a sliced bit of pancake into your mouth.

Bucky furrowed his brows. “Really? You’re not staying away until summer again?”

You cocked your brow, looking at him in the corner of your eye. “Why, do you want me to?”

“Course not,” He smirked, reaching out to swipe a drop of syrup from your lip with his thumb. “I hope that means you’re getting me a Christmas present then.”

A chuckle left your lips. “My return will be your Christmas present, how about that?”

The biker scoffed. “Okay... getting to kiss me when you get back will be your present then.”

“Eh... can’t you think of something better?”

He glared at you playfully, though you felt a little bad making the joke. You knew from the argument the night before that he wasn’t still one hundred percent okay with you leaving. Comfortingly, you placed a hand above his knee over his dark jeans.

“In all seriousness, though— I shouldn’t have told you not to wait for me to come back. If that’s what you really want, I can’t stop you from waiting for me. In fact, just seeing you again will be the best thing I’ll get on Christmas; I know it. Well, unless someone gets me some rollerblades. I always wanted them as a kid but my mom refused since I have issues with ‘being careful’—”

Bucky’s laugh cut you off, rolling his eyes at your attempt at covering up your sappy words with sarcasm. He could definitely understand why you never got rollerskates, however — you did have a tendency to be a little reckless. God knows what you were like as a kid.

“I’d have to agree with her on that one,” He smiled, sipping his coffee. “You have been punched in the face more times than the average person. You never told me about the other time you got punched, actually.”

A chuckle fell from your lips. “You remember me mentioning that?”

“Uh-huh.”

You sighed melodramatically. “I guess we have some time to kill — fine. So I was, surprise-surprise, in some random bar in Chicago...”

The hour you had left before your flight finished soon after you’d told Bucky enough stories from your travels to last him in your absence, and before you knew it, you’d reached the flight terminal.

There was an invisible force tugging at your heartstrings. While you were bubbling with excitement to get on your flight, to explore a whole new place outside of what you’ve always known, you hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be to leave what you did know behind. The thought of depending on somebody else, allowing yourself to let their feelings come into play with your decisions, had practically disgusted you only a few months ago. But with Bucky, it only felt wrong to cast his feelings aside.

The biker noticed the change in your demeanour as you neared the terminal, and a smile crept onto his lips. “C’mon, _____ — don’t tell me you’re gonna pussy out on leaving now.”

“Shut up,” You scoffed, elbowing his ribs. “I’m just... thinking.”

“About what?”

It took you a moment to come up with an answer. “About how everything has changed, and how everything is going to keep changing.”

You turned to look at Bucky, whose brows were furrowed. The corners of your lips upturned. “Bucky, nothing in my life is consistent. I’ve always liked travelling because where I am changes all the time, and I never feel stuck anywhere; I always feel free. And with you, I don’t feel stuck either. I want you to be a constant in my life, no matter where I am in the world or whatever else changes in it. I always wanted to get out of Brooklyn ‘cause it never felt like where I was supposed to be forever, but now I know that you’re here... well, maybe Brooklyn is where I’m supposed to end up...”

“...and I swear to God if you call me a sap for that—”

To your delight, you’re not teased for the most heartfelt thing you’d ever said to him, or anyone for that matter, but cut off with a intense kiss. Savouring the feeling, you placed a hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, letting yourself melt into him for one last time that summer. You’d found that Bucky wasn’t necessarily vocal in expressing his feelings, but that didn’t matter. The way he kissed you said more than a thousand words ever could.

After reluctantly pulling away from the kiss, Bucky didn’t let you go just yet. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you to his chest, an affectionate action that he didn’t necessarily do so often. Nevertheless, you leaned into him and let your arms encircle his waist, your cheek resting comfortably against his shoulder. This wasn’t the last time you’d be so close to him, you had to keep reminding yourself of that. But you’d never felt so hesitant to leave someone behind since you’d left Peggy the first time you left New York. You found your way back to her, though, and you were sure you’d do the same with Bucky.

“On second thought, I’d be fine if you pussied out of leaving now...” He spoke into your ear, making you chuckle against his chest.

“I’m no wuss, Bucky Barnes,” You moved back from his embrace, patting his jacket. “You’ll see me again soon, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

The feminine voice over the intercom informing you that your direct flight to London was departing soon cut your final moments with Bucky short, enabling the both of you to let out a disheartened sigh.

You leaned forward once more, pressing a soft but fleeting kiss to his lips, before giving his hand a squeeze. “Stay out of trouble, will you? At least until I get back?”

“I think I should be the one tellin’ you that,” Bucky laughed, his eyes taking in the curve of your nose and your cheekbones, the colour of your eyes and the softness of your lips; the features he’d had the luxury of waking up to every day for the past two months. Not that he could ever forget how beautiful you are, but he’d be a fool not to take advantage of looking at you properly in the flesh for the last time for a while. “Running away from a fight isn’t a bad thing, you know.”

“Practise what you preach, pal — does that mean you won’t be socking Brock Rumlow in the face next time you run into him?”

“...touché.”

A grin graced your lips as you clasped your fingers around the handle of your suitcase. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. Now, I’ve gotta get going. There might be a fight waiting for me on the plane already — a forty-five year old lady named ‘Karen’ that’s upset she didn’t get the window seat, perhaps?”

“Well, I can’t keep you waiting, can I?” Bucky stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, watching as you began to walk in the opposite direction to him, the opposite direction to the summer you’d forever hold dear to your heart.

The smile on your face widened, your last words to him falling from your lips before you turned around and headed towards the next part of your journey, which would eventually, hopefully, lead you back to him in the end.

“I’ll see you when I’m back home.”

Home. Where you belonged. Where you’d circle back to when you’d travelled across the world and back. With him, in Brooklyn.

“See you when you’re back home, baby.”

There was a time when you didn’t believe in love. When you thought that those who did were only fooling themselves, and when you once told your best friend that you’d never fall in love. Maybe you’d proved yourself wrong with Bucky.

The reason you’d always told yourself that love wasn’t real was because you never knew what it was, how it felt. However, if it felt like gliding through a sunlit sky with all the time in the world to spare, with all the space around you to explore; if it felt like finding home in more than just four walls and a roof, but in two bright blue eyes and a soul just as carefree as yours (...and a worn out leather jacket...), then maybe you had fallen in love with Bucky.

Perhaps when you returned home, you’d let him know.

-

@dark-academics-and-florals @thefallenbibliophilequote @kimvmarvel @broco8 @domolovee @barnestruck @igotkatiepowers

[imaginealpha]

I saved this screenshot over three years ago.

Today, at 10:50 PM, I made a document titled "I'm gonna bang this out in an hour and submit it at 11:58pm because that's just how I am" and wrote this for my school's literary magazine. I submitted it at 1:15 AM, because that's also just how I am. It's a little long, but that's okay.

The screech of the train’s brakes cuts through the night air, startling you from your light doze. There aren’t many people in the station, and no one seems to want to get on. Except you, of course, because you want to be anywhere but here.

A man hangs out the window of the car in front of you. “First time?” he says, his eyes crinkling sympathetically.

“I’ve ridden the train before,” you snap back defensively.

“That’s not what I asked.” He gestures to the open door.

You lean against the window, making sure to keep your head off of it before the slight shaking gives you a headache. The buildings whipping by are quickly replaced by a rolling countryside. You suppose this is when you consider your place in the universe, as one does on the midnight train going anywhere, but you are content to just watch.

A voice breaks the fog in your mind. “I need your ticket, dear.”

An older woman stands by your seat, the only other person in the otherwise empty car. Wordlessly, you fish your ticket stub out of your pocket and hand it over.

She clicks her tongue as she punches a series of holes into it. “It’s a lovely view on the way, dear. Make sure to watch. I believe it’s quite a sight for the soul.”

She hands it back. When you turn back to the window, you don’t hear her leave.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you closed your eyes. When you force them open, a dusty brown expanse stretches outside the glass, the surface pockmarked with tiny craters. The sky is pitch black but twinkling with a million points of light, steady companions in an ever-changing eternity. A blue planet covered in faint green landmasses and swirling white clouds hangs above, too big and too small at the same time. For a moment, you feel a little less lonely.

In the distance in front of you, a single building sits, quite literally in the middle of nowhere. A neon sign blazes brightly, but you can’t quite make it out. Thin tendrils of smoke rise from the front, where a small group of young adults are sitting around in folding chairs.

As you watch, one of them throws back their head and laughs, while another one stands, holding an empty bottle to their mouth like a microphone. You can almost hear them. That could be you someday.

There is a young child across the row.

“How did you get here?” you ask, a little dazedly.

They wrinkle their nose. “That’s not a fair question. I rolled the dice, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeat numbly. “Why isn’t it fair?”

“Because everyone rolls the dice, so you’re gonna get the same answer every time.” They shrug simply. “It’s the only way to get on the train, you know. You roll the dice, and if your number is low enough, you can choose to come on the train and roll again. It says so on your ticket.”

You dig out your ticket. It’s punched so full of holes that you can’t make out any of the text anymore.

“I didn’t roll the dice,” you hear yourself say.

The child just stares at you. “Of course you did.”

“Of course,” you say again, for lack of a better answer. “Where are they, then? So I can roll again?”

“That’s not how it works.” The child is rolling their eyes now, and you vaguely wonder if it is socially acceptable to use them as makeshift dice. (It isn’t, obviously.) “Ask me a more interesting question, please.”

“Who are you? Where are you from? And-” you twist around again to glimpse what is now a never-ending ocean rippling below the train, an electrical storm brewing on the horizon. “-where are we? Where are we going?”

“Everywhere. Nowhere. It’s hard to say, really.” They smile at you, something unreadable in their eyes. “I suppose a better answer would be anywhere. It’s up to you.”

“Me?”

Their smile turns sharp. “It really is your first time, isn’t it?”

The waves outside splutter in response. They go on and on and on and on, with no signs of stopping.

You can make out the thin glistening of water pouring softly down the cavern wall from the lights on the outside of the train.

“What’s it like, where you’re from?” the child asks.

“Pretty,” you say noncommittally. “Elegant, in its own way. Normal.”

They hum and swing their legs, gripping the edge of the seat. “And?”

You watch the walls of the cavern narrow in on the train, and a spark of nervousness flares inside you when you think of the train getting stuck. “Trapped. It was a nice place to grow up, but there wasn’t anywhere to go except where everyone told you to go. Sometimes, those places weren’t very special. Not to me, at least.”

“You have anywhere here.”

“I guess so,” you sigh. “The ride has to end eventually, though. I didn’t really think this through, so I have no idea what I’m going to do when we get to the last stop.”

“There’s only one stop,” the child says casually, “but think about what you want to do when you get there. It’ll be a whole new world for you, if you believe in it.”

Watching the tunnel widen again into a room full of gorgeous glowing crystals towering high above you, you think you’re starting to understand.

A lone streetlight stands outside, its harsh yellow light flickering on the ground. Silhouettes of people pass underneath like shadows, fading away into mist at the edges.

“They look like they’re searching for something. What are their lives like, I wonder?”

You square your shoulders bitterly. “They spend decades locked in a miserable cycle of work and expectations and exhaustion, with no real joy or expression left.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what society demands. That’s what people demand.”

The child surveys you curiously. “So they’re looking for emotion? All of them?”

All of them. The confirmation is on the tip of your tongue.

You remember the people outside the desert store. “Maybe not all of them,” you amend. “Some of them had higher dice rolls.”

“They all fade away in the end,” the child observes.

“But they’re brighter.” Happier.

“The dice alone don’t change that,” they remind you.

The streetlight dies.

“Can you rig the dice?”

“No,” the child replies. “But low numbers aren’t always a bad thing. If you add them right, you get a bigger number.”

The chunks of ice speeding past the window start moving backwards.

“Do you wanna play a game?”

You decide to humor the kid, for lack of anything better to do. “Sure. What game?”

“You stomp your feet like this.” They stretch their legs to the floor and pound a steady rhythm on the ground. “When I make this sound” - a series of clicks you can’t for the life of you figure out how to do with your mouth - “you knock against the window.” Another beat, their knuckles rapping gently against the glass. “And I’m gonna do my own sounds, and we’re gonna make a song. But you can’t step in the same place twice, or it’ll get boring.”

It takes you a while to get the hang of it. Before long, you are up and out of your seat, hopping across the car in an effort to avoid landing on the same spot you just stepped. The kid is singing a melody that shoots adrenaline through your veins, lights a giddy fire in your chest, and opens a haunting void in your throat all at the same time. You feel more alive than you have ever been in your entire life.

Here, dancing in the soft white light of the train, with a forest whispering outside and brushing the windows with gentle branches, believing in this seems easier than ever.

The child isn’t there when the sun’s rays spill over the horizon, tingeing the sky a pale pink. The country hills rise around the train again, tiny farms dotting the green. Roused from your deeper slumber, you lazily watch the early morning mist climb over the grass. Distantly, a mass of grey clouds hangs in the sky. If you think about it hard enough, they look like looming mountains. An impossible, majestic journey.

“We’re almost at the stop, dear.” The woman is back, speaking quietly. “I’ll take your ticket stub off your hands for you.”

You pull it out and give it to her. “You were right. The view was incredible.”

Her face softens. “It always is.”

The train finally pulls into the station with another screech. The doors slide open with a hiss, and you step back out onto the platform, breathing in the morning air. You take a moment to turn to the man hanging out the side window.

“Hope to see you again sometime,” he bids you, kind eyes now crinkled in a smile. “Next time, I’ll say ‘Second time?’”

“I look forward to it,” you agree with a small huff of laughter.

The ticketmaster gives you a weird look as you leave the station. “Were you in there all night?” he asks, perplexed. “Did your train even come by? There’s none on the schedule.”

You shrug. “No, it did. It was a round trip.”

You climb the stairs to the ground level and step outside. As you head home, you try to hold on to the feelings you found on the train. Looking for emotion, indeed.

Even when you don’t have an anywhere to go, at least you know there’s always another option. You’ll do what you do best: you don’t stop believing.

What do you think @writing-prompt-s?

[tundrainafrica]

I need to take this out of my lungs, HANGE AND LEVI AS MIA WALLACE AND VINCENT VEGA FROM PULP FICTION oof 💖💖

Title: No Foot Massages

Summary:  

'You’re taking care of a married woman, Levi. No foot massages'

"Romance was something that came slowly, a mysterious thing he never dared to test without putting the time and effort. Yet at the same time, he was aware that the smallest things could constitute cheating or ‘stealing’ with the right context and the most convenient explanations.

So Levi decided to keep it simple. Keep it distant. Keep it casual. Keep it fun."

Levi is ordered to take care of a married Hange for a weekend.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Note: 

That movie was just... a roller coaster ride really. 

This ended up a quick fic I wrote in between some meeting we were forced to attend outside office hours. 

You might be disappointed by the lack of sex and drugs compared to the actual movie. But I'm leaving my adult content for another one shot ;)

“A new mission?”

Erwin nodded and rested his chin on his hands. “Looks like our boss is gonna be gone for the weekend, on a trip to the Middle East and he’s leaving his wife alone in the house. You think you can handle taking care of her?”

Levi raised one eyebrow. “He has a wife? What’s her name?”

“Hange Zoe.”

“How did they meet?”

Erwin shrugged. “How else do rich people meet their wives?”

“They pick the prettiest woman around right?” Because they can. Levi added to himself. Somehow though, a name had so easily accompanied the face. And she wasn’t at all what people would have concluded to be ‘the prettiest woman around.’

Erwin narrowed his eyes at Levi. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking? I just thought she wouldn’t be the prettiest woman around. Not enough to attract the richest person within the walls right?”

“But why are you making that face?”

“What face?”

“The face of intention…” Erwin gave him a knowing look.

A face of intention? Even before Levi though could figure out how exactly he had looked to Erwin, the latter continued speaking.

“Do you know what happens when someone lays a hand on Marsellus�� wife? Do you remember what happened to Moblit?” Erwin asked.

Moblit? It had been a while since Levi heard that name, or has seen him walking through the hallways in between meetings.

“Well, our big boss sent some of his men after him. They broke into his apartment and pushed him out the window. ”

That was enough explanation at least for Levi to remember… Moblit was dead. “For what?”

“On account of one Hange Zoe.”

“What did he do? Fuck her?”

“He gave her a foot massage.”

“A foot massage?”

Erwin nodded his head.

“But… what if her feet just hurt?” Levi asked.

“It’s laying hands on his wife that’s the problem.”

“He gave her a foot massage. Foot massages are nothing.”

“By laying hands I mean, laying hands in a familiar way. It’s not the same as fucking her or eating her out but I’m sure you can agree that they’re in the same field right?”

Levi though, was still very much new to the nuances of romance. The world had only recently opened up to him and he was still very much unfamiliar with the cultures outside his own small country. He wrinkled his nose and sighed. Let’s keep it simple. “Okay, so I just have to take her out, keep her happy for just one weekend,” he asked. “And no foot massages right?”

“You’re taking care of a married woman, Levi. No foot massages”

“That’s easy enough,” Levi said. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Romance was something that came slowly, a mysterious thing he never dared to test without putting the time and effort. Yet at the same time, he was aware that the smallest things could constitute cheating or ‘stealing’ with the right context and the most convenient explanations.

So Levi kept it simple. Keep it distance. Keep it casual. Keep it fun.

Erwin’s last three words, he kept like a mantra, a little guideline Levi allowed himself as he approached their mansion.

No foot massages.

*****

“Oh, so you’re captain Levi?”

“You can call me Levi.” We don’t use terms like captain in my job. Levi said silently. But he didn’t mind such a term. The way it had rolled off her tongue had been a little too seamless to have been worth a verbal correction.

Hange settled on the sofa in front of him. The sofa could have fit three people but Hange managed to occupy three people’s worth of space with the way she stretched her legs so messily and if Levi angled his view a little lower, he might have seen something which could have had him thrashed like Moblit.

“Levi huh? Well, given my husband’s position. I guess that makes me your boss too right?” Hange asked.

I only answer to Erwin, and by extension, your husband. That at least had been what was taught to him since he started his job. But somehow, he felt more inclined to listen to Hange first.

“You have anywhere in mind you want to go?”

Hange hummed. “My husband keeps me really busy… so it has been a while since I got to go out like this. To be honest though, I don’t know much about the town. Do you have anything in mind?”

“There’s a new diner in town… Niccolo’s been cooking for Sasha a lot lately so I heard they’ve been offering more in the menu lately.”

Hange grinned. “Then let’s go?”

*****

“What do you think?” Levi asked as they settled into one of the booths in the corner of the restaurant.

Hange didn’t reply. Her face was completely hidden by the menu in front of her. And all Levi did get in return for his consideration were a few hums of approval.

“Your husband is paying. Get whatever you want.”

“Well, I heard Niccolo makes a great milkshake. And Sasha said the seafood from Marley is particularly delicious… So what about lobster?”

“Then we order two lobsters and two milkshakes.” Levi looked at his own menu. The numbers came in two digits, sometimes three.. Something Levi had never gotten used to having grown up in the underground and he found himself having to grip the menu a little harder to stop himself from dropping it. “Wait, you’re willing to pay this much for a milkshake? And Hange… The price of lobster?”

“Why? What’s wrong? These are pretty reasonable prices. It’s not like we can actually get these locally.”

But is your husband willing to pay for the lobster and the milkshake of his own employee? Levi felt the panic well inside him. At the same time, he was still conscious enough to know that such a monster like panic manifested in wide eyes and a sweaty brow. And for once, Levi found himself thanking the lord for that awkward height difference. Made it all the easier to put the menu in front of him.

“My husband told you right? You take me out to do whatever I want this weekend. And I want my lobster and I want my milkshake.”

*****

“We just ate. And you wanna dance?”

Hange only had to look at the stage to answer that question. She had that longing look in her eye, and when she looked back at him, it morphed into something, an expression Levi could have sworn he had only ever seen in dogs. “Levi… You know, I never get to leave the house. Especially when my husband’s home.”

Hange didn’t need the explanation though. Levi had already given in when she had given him that look and we had allowed himself that extra few seconds to stare a little longer. But even before he could give a nod of submission, Hange’s face brightened. She quickly stood up and pulled him along all the way to the top of the stage.

Levi focused on the blinding lights above him. Undoubtedly, it hurt. But for someone who never did get used to having at least fifty people watching him, it was still a better view.

“What a lovely couple we have here!” Niccolo of all people was at the center of the stage microphone in hand. With his free hand he pulled Hange to the front. “Could you introduce yourself and your partner here?”

“Hange Zoe here,” Hange said, with the widest grin on her face.

The crowd exploded into murmurs and among them Levi heard something about a ‘big boss’ and a ‘wife.’

Hey shitty four eyes, you’re gonna have me killed. Levi had reached out his leg half way, ready to kick her in the shin when Hange spoke up again.

“No, Levi here is not my partner. He’s just taking care of me for the weekend.”

There were ‘awws’ of disappointment among the audience and maybe a few heckles. Before Levi even gave in to that bout of self consciousness, looking back at the stairs behind him, Hange had pulled him to the middle of the dance floor. “Come on! Let’s win this.”

The heckles eventually transformed into cheers but Levi had to shake his hips for a few seconds or even a minute longer than he wanted too just to placate that hungry crowd.

He couldn’t dance for sure. He didn’t have the coordination to move everything at once. At that moment, the only thing he did feel was his hips, he jutted out with a few arm movements to add some color at least. That seemingly ridiculous movement though did nothing to erase the nervousness and the tension he felt then.

He looked up at Hange. She was smiling, much more confidently. And a few times she closed her eyes and swayed her head to the music. And she was closer, closer than Levi would have liked. He pulled away, keeping the swaying of his hips and the waving of his arms in check and as he did get a wider view of her, a head to toe view, he became a little more nervous and a little more self conscious.

He was a horrible dancer. He felt it in the way, his body could only move in sharp movements. And he had imagined how he looked to the crowd, a constant mixture of cheers and murmurs. And maybe a few laughs.

But that was the thing. With a limited view of Hange, he could just rely on his imagination to give him a merciful picture of how he looked. But when he stepped back, Hange became a top to bottom picture, a moving picture, her movements too sharp and a little too stiff. With her as reference, Levi became a little more conscious of how the hell he looked at that moment.

Am I that stiff? Levi thought to himself. In reply, his joints creaked to the unnatural movements, his arms shot up and he waved them like he was waving some sort of sword. And his movements although swift, were sharp, they jutted in directions a little too mechanical to have been considered a dance.

And Hange who had closed her eyes, and shaken her head and all directions within a few seconds, who had shot her hands up in the same way, moving her hands and her chest one direction and another, looked fucking ridiculous too.

Levi considered closing his eyes for a second, to at least get into the rhythm and maybe forget the audience behind him, but Hange, with her eyes closed in front of him, looked all the more ridiculous having chosen to forget everything around her.

I could close my eyes and forget... And for a while, as Levi did stare at Hange, he considered following suit.

Levi found an alternative though, an alternative that was so much better in the moment that Levi didn’t even bother weighing or comparing it to anything else. He jumped for that alternative a little too hastily. He rushed towards her, until all he saw in his vision was her face, then when all he saw was her eyes right in front of his.

She opened her brown velvety eyes and for a second, they were the only things he was seeing. But the view had only lasted a second. Too little time to count the colors in her eyes and too little time to admire her lashes and how beautifully they all formed such a unique shape between almond and round.

“Levi what the--”

And even before he could start admiring such a view, he felt a blinding pain, smack on his face.

“What the f---”

The whole word had been against him then, not even allowing him a single taut curse at such a cruel turn of events. They were at the edge of the stage and it turned out they had been for a long while.

And they were fucking idiots. Or so, that was what Levi realized, they were idiots enough that they had only noticed it themselves that they had been going in too many directions at once, only when they found himself tumbling down the stairs.

And Levi did only have a second to process that part, before the world had gone black.

*****

“You won’t tell him right? He’ll kill me.”

“Believe me, he’ll kill me too.”

“So how are you going to explain that,” Levi asked, gesturing a little too subtly at Hange’s swollen ankle propped on the coffee table in front of her.

“Well, how are you gonna explain that…” Hange asked, gesturing at him in general.

Levi didn’t have to look at the mirror to know what she was talking about. His skin was taut and he felt a dull pain spread out across his nose, he was sure at the best case scenario his nose and his cheeks were bruised. But that was the least of his problems then, he wasn’t sure if he’d still be alive and worrying about a possibly broken nose by the end of that week.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t care too much of a minion is bruised up. The more important thing is his wife doesn’t come out of this worse off.” Levi got up and went to the kitchen. “You’re going to have to wrap that.”

Levi’s penchant for cleanliness and orderliness had made it a little too easy for him to deduce where the first aid supplies would be hidden in such a high end house and Levi found himself back in the living room a second later, bandages in hand. He dropped it on the coffee table next to her.

“Here,” he said. He sat in front of her, leaning one elbow on his knee, propping his chin on his elbow.

Hange only returned his look, with an expectant one of her own.

“What?”

“Well…” Hange stretched out. “It would be a little awkward if I tried to bind my own ankle right? What if I fall off the couch?”

No foot massages. Erwin’s words echoed in Levi’s mind as he stared at the swollen foot in front of him for a little longer than what would have been normal.

And Hange noticed. “You don’t know how?”

“I know how to bind a sprained ankle.”

“Then why don’t you?”

No Foot Massages. Their words loomed on him like a ghost and as Levi gripped the roll of bandages, unravelling them slowly, he started to realize, there was no way of wrapping bandages on a sprained ankle, without caressing, without gripping at her injured foot and without pressing at a few areas as he tightened the bandage and got rid of the few pockets of air.

But I had to do this right? He can’t kill me for giving her the care she needs...

But just in case, he did make sure to confirm with her. “This doesn’t count as a foot massage right?”

*****

That weekend passed by in blur. Or maybe because he didn’t want it to end. And the world had proved multiple times already that it was constantly on a mission to fuck him over.

Saturday and Sunday were peaceful, too peaceful that it shouldn’t have gone too fast. Then, with nothing much to do but nurse his broken nose, keep Hange company, and nurse her through the first few 24 hours of dealing with a swollen ankle

And with nothing else to stimulate his mind or his senses but the brunette next to him on the sofa, Levi started to notice something a little more glaring.

“You haven’t showered since I came here.”

“Okay, thank you for that statement,” Hange said, not even looking up from the book she was reading.

“That’s not a statement. That’s a light suggestion.”

“Okay, I can ignore the suggestion.”

“It’s a request.”

“Well requests can be rejected right?”

“I would appreciate it if you explain why you’re rejecting that request.”

Hange gave her bandaged ankle a long stare, looked back at Levi then back at her book.

“Then I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No. I’m at a good part.”

“Well, I can’t stand you stinking up the house either.”

“This is my house. I can let it stink how much I want!”

Pulling her out of the couch had been a blur of an ordeal. He felt like he had done it many times before so even with the flailing of arms, the screams and despite all that, the great care he had to take with her sprained ankle, he had managed to forget it all as he sat outside her bedroom, letting the sound of the running water calm him down.

“You okay in there?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her words were garbled, cracked between syllables and Levi found himself peeking in, just to check if she had been okay.

“Hey…”

A mop of hair should have been visible, even with the steam that blanketed the bathroom. Alarmingly, there had been nothing there.

“Hange, are you there? Hey, don’t die on me fucker.”

“I’m fine… Levi… I’m just tired.” Hange said, between bubbles and short breaths.

“I’m not leaving this room.”

“Then don’t leave,” Hange said, as she sat up a little straighter on the bathtub. And that was when Levi saw it, the hesitation, the recoil. He heard it soon after, the creak then the whimper.

“Tired isn’t supposed to be painful.”

“Well I’m exhausted and sometimes being exhausted is painful.”

Didn’t we spend the past few days doing nothing though? Levi thought to himself. But time had been an illusion the past few days and he could have sworn only a few seconds had passed by since that long dance in the diner. Even with the past two days of doing nothing, somehow he did understand the exhaustion.

In fact, he understood it a little too well. His own instinct had been to approach her, reach out a hand on her shoulder and squeeze. Her shoulders were hard and for a while, it had felt like they were pushing back.

But Levi was strong and he easily won that small battle with that knot on her shoulder.

Hange let out stilted breath. “That felt good.”

“Why is your body so stiff…” Levi asked as he ran his hands over her shoulder. He squeezed points right after the other, and her body could have been made of those knots and he wouldn’t have been too surprised. It was unsettling and almost terrifying.

“I told you. My husband overworks me all the time.”

“But really what do you do…”

“I work… I work everyday.” Hange said.

“Work for what…” Levi continued as he ran his hands up her neck.

Hange stretched her neck, letting out a resounding crack. “I don’t wanna disappoint…”

Disappoint him? His hands were over her damp hair, and he found himself amazed by how easily his fingers had untangled the waves in her hair.

“Disappoint?”

Hange turned to him and stood up.

“Disappoint him?” Levi asked. And as the haze cleared, as Hange stood up, and grabbed the towel, for a second Levi did see her raw, damp and very much exposed.

Exposed in ways that only her husband should have had the privilege to see. And Levi only noticed it then.

No foot messages right? Foot massages were actually very innocent things.

By laying hands I mean, laying hands in a familiar way. In fact, foot massages were such innocent things, Levi would have been happy to confess to a foot massage if it meant forgetting everything else he had done.

Fuck, he’s not just gonna be disappointed. He’s gonna be angry. Furious. He’s gonna fucking kill me.

And the steam chose that moment to disperse, the steam chose the moment when Hange was looking back at him yet still a good many movements away from wrapping that towel around herself.

And for some reason, Levi couldn't move. He couldn't walk away nor could he put his eyes up in some sort of defense. The only thing he had control of then had been his voice. But would she listen?

Either way, it was worth a try. “Hange, stop. Don’t!”

“You didn’t sleep well last night did you?”

Levi’s blinked back from that last view. That transition had been a little too abrupt. In what world would steam, with the silhouette of a naked Hange open up to a pile of paperwork on a desk? His mind had asked him then.

A voice had broken through his mindspace to answer it. “You looked like you were having a bad dream there. You okay?”

Levi looked up to see Hange clad in survey corps green coat, like she always had been, every single day before that.

And that… That was a fucking dream. Levi let out a long sigh. He wasn’t some low life stealing someone’s wife. He was a captain. And Hange was his commander.

“I’m fine. Sorry I dozed off for a while. How long was I out?”

“Around 12, I came back from a quick lunch and found you asleep. So looking at the watch now… Two hours?”

“And you didn’t wake me up?”

“You looked tired,” Hange said matter-of-factly, she said it too calmly that to Levi, it had been almost painful hearing it. Hange didn’t look like she had slept well either, her worry lines were more apparent and her eyes tended to droop a little more than usual.

And Levi found himself focusing particularly on the way her shoulders dropped yet at the same time stiffened. From a meter away, Levi could already pick out the knots on her shoulders and he was certain she never did give them a proper stretch. “You always look tired. That’s why I’ve told you many times before, give me some of your work.”

“No need to deal with any of those, I fixed the purchase orders already.”

“What about these?” Levi asked as he read through the topmost paper.

“I read through and documented everything already.”

“Then why are they here?”

“You’re still the head of the special squad. So I thought you’d want to review the purchase orders for the weapons.”

“I could have dealt with this myself,” Levi narrowed his eyes at Hange.

“Well it’s done at least. Doesn’t matter who did it.”

“No. It does. You’re constantly tired,” Levi said. “You might get sick or hell, you might drop dead at the rate you’re going.”

“I’m commander, it’s my job to read through all this.” Hange walked back to her desk and gently tapped the stack of papers on her desk.

“I can take some of that,” Levi offered.

Hange shook her head. “These are reports on the installation of the new train line. I don’t think this is the type of paperwork I can easily hand over to anyone else. Just read through the purchase orders, tell me if I missed anything.”

Even when Hange was requesting something with such a serious face, it had almost sounded pleading. And Levi felt almost obligated to look through every single one of the records very carefully, even after poring through more than half of them and coming up fairly convinced that there would be no mistakes among the pages worth of purchase orders.

No calculation errors. No typos. Levi had spent the last two hours before the sun set, even doing some quick calculations and estimations through them to be sure. Hange was thorough.

Before Levi knew it, the office started to come out looking a light orange, a far cry from the dull rustic brown hue that blanketed it most of the day.

It had been a comforting view long ago, when it had been a sign of the end of a long busy day.

But recently, Hange had been staying longer, even after the bright orange faded into purples and into a dark blue, even long after Hange had to turn on dim light. What had been the most unsettling part for Levi though had been the fact that she never did go home. When he entered the office in the morning she was there. When he left the house for the night she was there.

As if she were married to her job.

“Hey.”

Hange looked up, catching his gaze. “You need something?”

Her eyes were glossy from what could have been a constant stream of exhaustion and somehow that made Levi all the more determined to get her out. “What’s your plan tomorrow?”

Hange shrugged. “Depends what I finish tonight.”

“You haven’t taken a rest in so long. It’s like you’re married to your job.”

“I don’t wanna disappoint,” Hange explained. “Erwin made me commander for a reason.”

“We never got to check out that one fancy restaurant. I heard that Marleyan soldier makes really good food.”

“New shipments are coming tomorrow so I’m going to have to go to the port and---”

“That can wait until tomorrow,” Levi approached her table, placing his hand gently on the edge. “One night. Forget about your work for one night. I promise, we’ll have a great time.”

Hange raised one eyebrow. “A great time? It’s been a while since I had one.”

“And all I’m asking for is one night. You’re not happy married to your work.”

Hange sighed. “Actually you might be right. I have been pretty miserable lately. Maybe because I never give myself a break.” She pushed the papers haphazardly to one side of the table. “One night,” she repeated.

They could have taken the carriage to the restaurant and could have been there in five minutes. But somehow, Levi was scrambling for reasons to make the night last longer. And Hange didn’t protest.

They were walking through the more silent parts of town. The walk took them through winding paths that only prolonged their trek to the restaurant. Although they were very much familiar with that part of town, neither of them protested such a silent decision.

“You know, you were smiling in your sleep for a while,” Hange said.

“Was I?”

“Then suddenly, you were frowning. Then you woke up screaming,” Hange said, widening her eyes in emphasis. “Was it a bad dream?”

Was it?  “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“It had good parts and bad parts.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There were a lot of things which happened there, which I wish could happen in real life… And other parts were just…” Levi trailed off. He felt himself shudder just thinking of that phantom husband of Hange.

“Things you wish could happen? You mean… like a happy ending after the war or something?”

Some of the pictures though had Levi cringing and unable to stop that grimace that played at his lips. Levi looked away as soon as he felt the blood rush to his face. “What about… You enjoy tonight… Like enjoy to your heart’s content, take a great rest. And I’ll tell you.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you so eager to hide something from me. ” Hange let out one whistle, one provocative whistle that only served to make Levi’s blood boil. “But I’ll hold you to do that.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 16

First part

Previous

~~~

Man, talking solely through text is really irritating when you’re running to go make sure your soulmate doesn’t ruin someone’s life.

Adrikins: Alya.

Timberly: Well why didn’t you just say that

Timberly: What was I supposed to do look up lady wifi in the phonebook

Adrien looked at his phone and rolled his eyes, then narrowly avoided running into a streetlamp.

Adrikins: Because you’ve only been in class for a day and Lady Wifi was the answer to the riddle. And stop being rude.

He sighed.

Timberly: Sorry I’m just a bit anxious about hurting her

Adrikins: *Hurting her for a second time.

Timberly: Shut up

Adrikins: Lol. And don’t be. She’ll be fine once the akuma is gone. We’re the ones who’re screwed.

Tim’s memories of the last akuma fight were pretty hazy. He vaguely remembered thinking that Marinette was capable and smart. It had been a good thing then... but now that they were about to fight her and she wasn’t going to be holding back to make sure they didn’t get too hurt.

Adrien was right. They were screwed.

They needed a plan, but…

Plans usually rely on information, and Inamovibi-Lady’s powers were mostly unknown. They knew for a fact that she had three items (the microphone, gavel, and yoyo), but there was nothing saying that they couldn’t mold them into other things.

Speaking of the microphone…

“Time for hearing number three!” The akuma’s voice echoed through the streets, and both of the heroes cringed.

He wanted a magical yoyo to swing through the streets. All he had were portals that he couldn’t even use because he needed them to get close to Inamovibi-Lady.

“I’m currently here with our favorite Ladyblogger, a good reporter for the most part… but!”

The apartment building finally came into view and he winced at the sight of a broken window. At least they knew which apartment to look into.

“Every good reporter needs their proof, don’t you think, Alya? And, god, do you ask for proof...”

“Marinette?”

“Inamovibi-Lady.”

Adrien sent a tiny wave and used his baton to vault through the window. The sound of the glass breaking was caught on the microphone, which was about as pleasant as you’d expect. Tim fought the urge to cover his ears as he started climbing a nearby drainpipe.

“Wow! I didn’t expect you to show up so soon, darling! You’re shockingly productive. Is Cheval coming?”

“Yep! He’s on his way up the wall right now.”

Tim winced. Really? He decides to speak and it’s only to sell him out?

Inamovibi-Lady laughed quietly. “C’mon, I know you’re a better partner than that, darling. Not able to work with him, huh? Too bad. I guess I can change up my order to give him more time…”

Oh. So Adrien was using their new curse against her. Nice.

“Cheval, darling, if you don’t get here in time I’m going to Master Fu’s next. He’s right where you dropped in from America the first time.”

“Wait, what did Master Fu do?” Asked Adrien, the frown evident in his voice.

Tim finally reached the window and slowly peeked his head over the sill. Adrien had moved to a spot that had Inamovibi-Lady facing away from the door, which Alya was slowly creeping towards.

The akuma giggled. “Like you don’t know. But for the rest of Paris, it’s a secret until his hearing… which I can’t get to until this one is over.”

Her microphone morphed into a yoyo and she tossed it over her shoulder at the door. Alya barely dodged it, but apparently that wasn’t what she was aiming for. The yoyo hooked around the doorknob and with a flick of her wrist the string cut through the brass like it was butter.

“There, with that temptation gone, let’s get back to the whole ‘you literally believed everything Lila said but apparently I need to give proof’ thing, yes?”

Adrien sighed. “Sorry about this, Nette, but… I can’t let you do this.”

The akuma tipped her head to the side as they seemed to consider this, before she shrugged and pulled her yoyo to her hand. “If you say so.”

The two ex-partners eyed each other warily. Adrien lengthened his baton and attempted to get a quick hit from a distance.

“Aw, scared, darling?” She teased as she ducked the blow.

He scoffed and ran at her.

Tim used the distraction to sneak through the room. He gave Alya a tiny smile and pressed a finger to his lips to tell her to stay quiet, then turned his attention to the knob and he cringed.

He grabbed a pencil off a nearby desk and started attempting to trigger the door mechanism. If worse came to worst, he could always break down the door, but he’d prefer to get Alya out without Inamovibi-Lady noticing.

He glanced back and winced.

Inamovibi-Lady had managed to hook her yoyo around Adrien’s baton, and now they were in an awkward game of tug-of-war. Their boots scuffed the wooden floors as they tried to pull the weapons out of their opponent’s grip.

The metal of the baton was, slowly but surely, crinkling. He winced and let go, sending both of them flying backwards.

Which would have been fine if Adrien hadn’t gone careening into Tim and Alya.

Inamovibi-Lady hit the opposite wall and her eyes narrowed in on the fact that Tim was attempting to open the door. He gave up on subtlety entirely and kicked the door down. He grabbed Alya and started making a run for it.

Man, why did akumas have to be so one-track minded? Now that she knew that her target was escaping, Inamovibi-Lady apparently couldn’t care less about Adrien chasing after her with a glorified stick.

And Tim? Tim had discovered that it was extremely hard to throw a boomerang, run, and carry a civilian all at the same time.

He knocked over things in the Césaire apartment as he ran around (he’d pay them back if he could later), desperate to put as much distance between himself and the akuma as he could, but she didn’t seem all that affected.

And then he came to a window. He pushed the curtain to the side and looked out over the streets. They were around five floors up… Fun. If he was alone it wouldn’t be much of a problem to jump out, but with Alya…

He cringed and set her down, pushing her behind him and bringing his hands up to fight.

Okay! Plan time!

He was just going to assume that she only had those three different weapon types. She probably would have used other things by now if she had the options.

The microphone was just a microphone…

The gavel seemed to be just for judgement…

So the only weapon she had really used was her yoyo. It was also the one she had the most practice with, which wasn’t great, but at least she didn’t really have any close-up attacks…

She stumbled out of the hall, Adrien on her back as he attempted to choke her out with his baton.

Oh, good. He’d noticed, too.

Tim looked around for a close-range weapon and pulled the curtain down. He brandished the curtain rod. It wasn’t quite his bo staff, but it would have to do.

She slammed back into a wall and Adrien hissed in pain, loosening his grip just enough for her to twist free. She grabbed her partner by the arm and threw him at Tim.

The two crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and two sticks of metal that jutted out at annoying angles. The akuma looked at the two and then threw the curtain over them to add to the confused scrambling.

“Right! No more interruptions, if those two know what’s good for them!” Said the akuma, and Tim could tell from the volume that she was using her microphone again.

That would be great if Adrien would just.. fucking... get off! He elbowed him in the face and mumbled a “sorry” before starting to try and untangle himself.

“You opted to believe everyone but me without proof, but why should we let that stand? It’s unfair! So, how about you ask everyone for proof about everything from now on? Sound good?”

“No!” Said Alya, and from the sound of it she was trying to run away.

Tim managed to pull his head out just in time to watch light envelop the girl. He shielded his eyes and looked away, using the time to grab the curtain rod again.

When he could finally look again, he found the akuma leaning over him with a hand out to help him out properly.

He narrowed his eyes in slight suspicion, looking for her weapon. He found her yoyo fastened to her waist. Okay, so it probably wasn’t some sort of ploy.

“Oh, did you get hit with some of Alya’s sentence?” She joked quietly.

He slowly took her hand. She wouldn’t hurt him too badly, she needed him to go after Joker and Harley…

But he couldn’t let that happen. As much as they deserved it, he didn’t want to chance Marinette feeling bad about it when she got deakumatized.

Inamovibi-Lady pulled him out, only for her eyes to widen as he brought his makeshift staff up to bean her over the head.

She had to fall back to avoid it and he used her momentum to tackle her, his hands grabbing at her waist until he’d managed to pull the yoyo from her.

He tossed it over at Adrien, who was just now managing to get out, and he stared at it confusedly for a second before he seemed to understand what was going on.

“Cataclysm!”

The ashes fell to the floor and the heroes breathed a sigh of relief.

Sure, they’d failed to save Alya, but at least Inamovibi-Lady’s reign of terror was over.

Tim grinned and helped the akuma to her feet. He pointed at her earring. She knew she lost, but even if she did try to fight back he figured she’d be pretty helpless without her weapon. He’d fought her in hand to hand before. He could beat her, especially if he had Adrien’s help.

Now, to get rid of the akuma...

They watched her touch her earring and start to pull a weird substance from it. After a few seconds she’d pooled a good amount into her hand. Their mouths fell open as she molded what she had into a new yoyo.

Adrien threw his hands up in frustration. “OKAY HOW IS THAT FAIR?”

Tim didn’t even have time to complain before the yoyo had wrapped around him and pulled him to her side.

“Gotham. The Batcave, if you can. Please?” She chirped.

Tim considered this for a few seconds. At least they had some allies over there…

Well, if they were actually in the Batcave and not on patrols. But there had to be at least one person, right?

He gave the akuma a tense smile and opened a portal underneath them.

She smiled and gave him a tiny pat on the head, then carefully pulled her yoyo off of him.

Dick looked up from the computer and his eyebrows scrunched together. “Uh… what happened to Nette?”

“Akumatized,” said Tim, giving him a glare. “You know, that thing I told you about?”

Was it Dick’s fault that he hadn’t believed him? No. Was Tim still bitter? Absolutely.

Adrien stepped through as well and the portal closed behind him.

“So we’re in Gotham,” he said with a set of sarcastic jazz hands. “Amazing. Now what? Do you have a plan that you just decided not to use in the months we were looking for him or what?”

“Actually, yes!” Said Inamovibi-Lady brightly. She pointed to Bruce, who was just pulling his cowl over his head to prepare for patrols in an hour. “I need your help, good sir!”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “With what?”

She winked and twirled her yoyo until it was a microphone. She fiddled with it for a few seconds and then pressed a tiny button on the handle. Her voice carried through the streets in perfect English:

“Citizens of Gotham! Ignore this message! It’s not for you, I’m specifically talking to Joker right now. Put in your headphones or something.”

She hummed for a few seconds, then nodded.

“Great, now that it’s just you and me: Hi! Fuck you! You’re the absolute worst and I hope to destroy everything you’ve ever cared about! Starting with your favorite bat. I’m dropping him off of Gotham Cathedral in five hours, it’ll be great. Come meet me properly, you can even bring your girlfriend… I want to chat!”

~~~

Next part

And for my next trick I’m going to fail my econ test because I did this instead of studying :D

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[harryhooksgazebos267]

Broken Trust~ Part 13

Paring: Bang Chan x reader; Mark Tuan x reader(arranged marriage)

Genre: Mafia au, angst, little bit of everything honestly

Warnings: Cursing, mafia life shizzl

MASTERLIST

As Chan and you made your way back to where everyone was you couldn’t help but smile slightly as you thought back to what just happened between Chan and yourself. You really had missed him and it felt good knowing that after all these years he still felt the same about you. However, the smile on your face disappeared as you entered the living room and saw glass lying on the ground from a shattered window.

“What the fuck happened?” Chan questioned as Felix walked over to him, handing him a brick that had a note attached to it.

“Seems like y/n was right, Irene snitched.”

You walked over and peered over Chan’s shoulder to read the note.

Stray Kids,

It has come to my attention that you are planning to attack the JYP empire. So, it seems as though this is to be war between us. Anyone who threatens JYP threatens my mafia and my authority and I will be sure to end any and all threats before they become a problem, that is including you y/n. However, I have decided to give you one more chance. On the back of this note, you will find an address. Y/n, you are to go there, only accompanied by Blackpink if you must have someone. Stray Kids is to stay back and if they don’t, I will and can kill you y/n. Be there at 6 p.m. sharp and don’t be late, I am expecting your answer on where your loyalty stands. Don’t make a decision you’ll regret.

~M.T

“Why is he being so extra with his wording?” You ask jokingly.

“Y/n,” Jisoo scolds shaking her head.

“So, what are we going to do? We can’t just send the five of them there by themselves. It could be a trap,” Jeongin voices his concerns.

“Yeah but if we all go then y/n dies and I honestly wouldn’t take his threat lightly,” Jennie sighs out.

“So we either send the three of you plus Lisa and Rosé and you get kidnapped and possibly killed or we go and y/n gets killed,” Hyunjin bitterly stated.

“I swear to god if I got my hands on Mark,” Jisung muttered while taking a bite out of cheese cake that seemed to magically appear in his hands.

“Jisung.”

“Yeah?” He asked you with an eyebrow raised while munching away.

“Bro when the fuck did you go to get cheese cake and where did you even get it from? You know what, that doesn’t even matter, why are you eating cheese cake right now?” You questioned bewildered.

“I eat when I’m stressed,” He mumbled with his mouth full.

“So what are we going to do?” Seungmin asked Chan ignoring the exchange Jisung and you had.

Everyone turned to look at the leader who seemed to be deep in thought.

“Felix can you go grab your laptop?”

“Yeah sure,” Felix answered quickly going to retrieve said item.

In the blink of an eye, Felix was back with his laptop and handed it over to Chan. Once getting the laptop, Chan sat down in one of the armchairs and opened up google maps. Quickly, he typed in the address that was on the back of the note.

“Okay so it seems as though the address he gave us is at a warehouse which isn’t surprising at all. But we’ve actually been there before to make a couple of weapon deals. One time the job went south so Felix and I had to run and hide. About three miles out there is this little abandoned cottage so if some of us go a little early to the cottage to make sure none of Mark or JYP’s men are there, we can hide there while y/n and the girls talk to Mark. That way we would be close enough where if something goes wrong we’ll be able to get to them quickly. We can put a microphone on the girls so that we can hear what’s going. If we get there like an hour early I think that would give us enough time to prep and make sure everything is safe,” Chan explained his idea while the group nodded along.

“I think that’s our best bet honestly,” Minho said.

“Yeah I agree,” Jisoo stated nodding her head.

Hums and words of agreement filled the room.

“Great, then it’s settled. Jennie, Jisoo, are you guys still going to leave or do you want to stay here tonight just in case something goes wrong over at YG?” Chan asks them while shutting the laptop.

The two girls exchange a quick glance before Jennie turned to talk.

“I think we’ll stay. I’m going to call Rosie and have her and Lisa come over. I guess I’ll have them bring our clothes and anything else we’ll need for tomorrow.”

“Okay, Changbin, Jisung, can the two of you go make sure the guest rooms are clean?”

“Yeah sure, Jisung stop shoving your face and get your ass up!”

You laugh as Jisung practically inhales the rest of the cake and follows Changbin to do what Chan asked him to do. Suddenly you feel a hand squeeze you shoulder. Glancing over, you catch Jisoo’s gaze. She gives you a little smile while taking your hand and standing up.

“Hey Chan y/n and I need to talk for a second. Is there a secluded area we could?”

“Ah yeah, we have a garden in the backyard. I can take you to it,”He said while giving you two a slight smile.

It didn’t take long to get to the garden. After thanking him, Chan made his exit. Jisoo and you made your way over to a bench that was in front of a pond that was positioned in the middle of the garden.

“So what’s up?” You questioned as you sat down.

Jisoo took a moment to get her thoughts together before speaking.

“Before I start, I just want you to know the only reason I’m bringing this up is because I really do love you and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh god, I don’t like where this is going.”

Jisoo laughed light at your comment.

“It’s nothing too bad, I just want to make sure that you really don’t have any feelings for Mark. When you told us about the kiss you were blushing and all this stuff and I...listen, I’m not going to judge you if you do but come tomorrow you aren’t going to be able to undo the decision you make. If you tell Mark you’re with Stray Kids, you lose Mark and you’re never getting him back. If you side with Mark then you lose Chan.”

"I....wow I wasn’t expecting that honestly,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Did you enjoy the kiss?”

“I mean...I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” You trailed off as you played with your hands.

“Have you ever thought about Mark in a romantic way?”

“Well of course I have, we are engaged after all. After the initial lose of Chan I was so against the idea of getting married to him but then you know I started warming up to the idea I guess. When we weren’t fighting or when he wasn’t being cold I did enjoy being around him. And you know, I would be lying if I said I don’t think he’s attractive.”

“So, would you say that you love him though?”

You take a second to think about everything. Did you love Mark? You knew for a fact that you did care for him but in what way?

“I...I do love Mark but it’s not in the way that he wants or needs me to. Once you get past his hard exterior he’s a really great guy and I think he truly does care for me but I just, I can’t be the person he wants me to be. Even if Chan never came back, I don’t think I would ever love him as much as I think he loves me,” You confess.

“With all that being said, if you had to kill him could you do it?”

“Hey Lisa and Rosie are on their way,” You heard Jennie call out as she walked over to the two of you.

“Okay good,” you say while moving over so Jennie could sit down.

“So what were you guys talking about?”

“We were talking about Mark,” Jisoo told her while yawning.

“Oh? Everything good? You aren’t second guessing anything right?” Jennie asked you.

“No, no everything is fine. You guys don’t have to worry.”

“Like I said, I just don’t want you to get hurt y/n. Either way you’re going to have to pick between the two of them and honestly I’m not really worried about your decision there.”

“What do you mean?” You ask a little confused.

“Well it’s no secret that you’ll pick Chan but,” Jisoo trails off while looking at Jennie and kind motioning for her to speak.

“Listen the two of us have been talking and we just have a gut feeling that this isn’t going to end good. We just want to make sure that you are prepared for anything that comes your way.” Jennie explains.

“Guys seriously you don’t have to worry, everything is going to be fine,” you say with a reassuring smile.

Jisoo opens up her mouth to speak but before she can you quickly stand up, no longer wanting to have this conversation.

“Well we have a long day tomorrow so I should probably go to bed. Goodnight guys.”

You turn to go find Chan so you can figure out where you would be sleeping. Retracing your steps, you make it back into the living room to find him, Minho, Changbin, and Hyunjin sitting discussing tomorrow.

“Hey Chan,” You call out from the doorway which causes him to look up.

Excusing himself from the conversation, he walks over to where you stood.

“Everything good with Jisoo?” He asks you once he was close enough.

“Yeah it was nothing serious, she just need to ask me a question.”

“That’s good, so what can I do for you?”

“I’m a little tired so I think I’m gonna go to bed,” You inform him.

“Oh yeah you can go to bed, goodnight!” He says with a little wave as he turned back around to go back to talking with the boys.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you look at him a little puzzled.

“Chan, where the fuck am I sleeping?” You deadpan, a little confused as to why this man is acting like you know where the guest rooms are.

“My room?” He says a little confused as to why you were asking.

“I’m sleeping in your room?”

“Yeah?”

“With you?”

“Yeah...I mean you don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable I just figured because of earlier that you would want to...” He trailed off rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turned a light shade of red.

“Oh no Chan that’s not what I meant! I don’t care if we share a room, it’s not like it would be the first time I just figured I was just sleeping in a guest room or something,” you explain, “But I would prefer to share a room with you anyways,” you quickly add to reassure him.

“Okay good!” He smiles relieved, his dimples popping out.

“I still need you to show me where it is though, this is like my second time being here. I literally have no idea where anything is.”

Chan takes your hand in his and begins leading you to his room, after telling the boys he would be right back of course. Once in his room you face plant on to his bed and sigh in content as the soft material of his blanket hits your skin.

“I brought all the stuff that you have up here earlier, it’s in the corner by my drawer. If you need anything just call me okay?”

“Okie dokie.”

Chan turns to exit his room and shuts the door behind him. You sigh as you struggle to lift your tired body off of his bed to get changed into your pajamas. Grabbing your clothes and your toiletries, you walk into the bathroom that was connected to Chan’s and begin to do your nightly routine. Once you were done, you crawl under the covers and snuggle up into Chan’s bed. You were utterly exhausted but for some reason, you just couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was filled with thoughts and doubts and it just wouldn’t shut up. You couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what Jisoo has asked you.

Could you kill Mark if you had to?

After about an hour of tossing and turning, you hear Chan’s door creep open as he tiptoed into the room.

“You don’t have to be quiet, I haven’t fallen asleep yet,” You mumble out.

“I’m surprised, you seemed really tired earlier,” He comments.

“It’s just one of the nights,” You reply with a shrug.

“Is it okay if I just change here or do you want be to go in the bathroom?”

“Your room, your rules. My eyes are closed anyway.”

“I’m sure you’re dying to open them though,” Chan jokes as you hear him open his drawers.

“I mean you aren’t wrong,” You agree which causes him to chuckle slightly.

After a few more moments, you feel the other side of the bed dip down as Chan lays down. He seemed to freeze for a moment before turning to lay with his back facing you which surprised you a little. Sir had the balls to kiss you and share a bed with you but didn’t have the balls to cuddle you, very rude.

“Goodnight y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

"....”

“Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m cold.”

“Am I taking up too much of the blanket?”

“No.”

“Do you want another blanket?”

“No.”

“......do you want to wear one of my long sleeved shirts?”

“Do you think I want your long sleeved shirt?”

“Maybe?”

Rolling your eyes, you move your body closer to Chan and pull on his shoulder so that he was laying on his back. You lay your head on his chest as he wraps his arm around you.

“Before you say anything I just want to say that I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions,” Chan defends.

“You’re so stupid,” You half heartedly joke as you feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.

Chan just laughs while pulling you closer into his chest and sighing in content. All of the worries leaving your mind as you finally fall asleep.

A/n: Sorry the ending sucks lol...I wasn’t sure how to end it honestly

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Part 14

MASTERLIST

[batarella]

The Bullet: A Sequel to the Commander - Part 6 (Jason Todd x Reader)

FUUUUCK THIS TOOK SO LONG AM SORRY BUT MAAAAN AM I PROUD OF THIS. YES THE FLOYD LAWTON I’M BASING ON IS WILL FUCKING SMITH

WORDS: 10333 WARNINGS: IMPRISONMENT, STARVATION, DEHYDRATION, TORTURE, FIREARMS

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

“How do you plead?”

Soulless.

Mindless.

Lifeless.

She finally became that cold, callous machine. It took her this far just to get there.

It was just about as painless as your skin and nerve endings being burned off.

A soulless, mindless, lifeless muster of steel and hard parts.

To every pair of eyes that looked her way, she was no human being. She was no woman. She wasn’t someone who loved or was loved. She wasn’t someone’s cousin, or someone’s lover. And especially not someone who could have been a mother. Taking care of a child would be nothing short of abuse.

She wasn’t Y/N. She was Deadshot. An eerie mimic to her infamous uncle.

With the cuffs on her wrists, three guards on her side, unarmed in case she could possibly reach out for them, she heard the distant flickering of camera shots and murmurs. Her silence was already something to note, with the reporters eating up this story like worms on a cold carcass. But not once did she look up from her feet, at the steel clinging to her skin. Her attention didn’t leave the coarseness of the bright orange suit, sticking to her skin like sandpaper.

“Guilty.”

Her own trial. And she barely paid attention. She didn’t listen to just about anyone who went up to speak, at the lawyers, the judge, the jury with their whispers. She didn’t listen to their stories about her, whether or not they were true. And even if it were a lie, it wouldn’t matter much. It would only add up to the countless life sentences she’d expect to have in the end. It wouldn’t change anything about her situation. Waller was going to win, whatever happens.

For the murders of fifteen different people. Fifteen different cases. It was barely a fraction of what she’d done just by the past few months alone, not including the last one since she swore off killing. But they were the ones she chose to admit to. By herself. Her part of the deal with Waller.

A trial that was supposed to last the whole of the day, ended up being adjourned after barely an hour. Barely any witnesses, barely any proof to go against her. If she hadn’t admitted to anything, she wouldn’t have gotten more than one or two life sentences.

Now, she ended up with eight.

And after her eyelids shielded her away from more visions of the reality in front of her, she still managed to watch herself being taken away. With even more unarmed guards around her in a circle and two standing from a fair distance away, holding AKs and pistols strapped to their hips.

She saw herself being cuffed on her ankles, lead to an armored car like a circus animal. Reporters all around her, snapping pictures and holding out their microphones trying to get something out of her. And despite everything Waller had said, about her histories, her crimes, and all the horrible things she’s done, not everyone immediately went back to looking at her scornfully. At the far off crowd outside the courthouse, there were a group of girls, holding up a sign with hearts around her name. Her real name this time.

And they all cheered for her to be let go. They cried out to her, calling her a hero, calling her things she clearly wasn’t.

A cop pulled her head back to look in front of her, back crouched over, face covered with her hair. When she got to the car, she could no longer hear screams of neither hate nor support. She never felt so alone. So dead. Dead beneath her skin despite her heart still up in a beat. But it was clearly barely there. She was barely alive.

They took her to a plane. Then on another car. Then she arrived in Belle Reve.

Guards gave her looks. And she didn’t care to think about what went on in their clearly corrupted minds. She was taken to a brightly lit room, and despite it being so lit up, everything around her felt cold and dark. Her eyes, dropped down, she let the guard take her hand and press her inked fingers onto a piece of paper. Then they scanned her eyes, took her blood, took a piece of her hair.  

She was given a sign to hold, with her name on it and alias.

She stood in front of the wall with the height meter and faced the camera.

And on her face, she finally gave off a taste of the emotions running through the labyrinth in her mind. Her eyebrows arched down, her shoulders crouched over, her hair coming down to frame her face and her mouth arching down the most terrifying frown.

And her eyes. They looked black from the hooded darkness.

Anger. So much anger. For everything around her. For everything that had to happen.

They took the shot.

Just hours later, her mug shot had circulated all over Gotham, all over billboards and television screens, and almost everywhere on social media. Mixed criticisms. People wanting her to be let out. People praising her to be so brave. People saying she deserved what she got. People saying she should be put on death penalty.

Deadshot. Even when her name was everywhere. Even when the world had claimed her real name for their use. It wasn’t hers anymore.

She will, and always will be, Deadshot.

-----

Cops weren’t supposed to shove him into the back of a car like a dog being tied down and taken to the pound.

Cops weren’t supposed to throw his rights out the window out of fear over the woman who was supposedly above the law.

Cops weren’t supposed put their fear of losing their jobs in front of treating other people with basic human decency and have some sort of humanity left in them.

Cops weren’t supposed to use their job as an excuse to hurt other people. An excuse to let out their personal angers out on people who don’t deserve it.

But Jason Todd, a vigilante who had just been relieved out of god knows how many murder charges over the course of just two years, he shouldn’t expect the cops to be nice to him. As much as they were kind to Batman, as much as Commissioner Gordon was considered saint, there will always be a number of them that are just as bad as the criminals they detain.

They took him almost a hundred miles away from the city. Out into an unknown country side he had no idea where to go to. Not a motel, a gasoline station, or a diner in sight. He must have been in that car for four hours. He didn’t exactly know. Just that it was almost day time when they threw him out, his face meeting the dewy grass and the youthful orange sky. And the air around him felt nothing like the cold Gotham winds. It was fresh, light, healthy to take in. That’s when he realized just how far off he really was from home.

Jason was hungry, throat starting to feel a little dry. And his clothes will barely be enough to hold him up. He had two days. Maybe three days tops. By then he’ll have to make sure he’ll at least find a motel to stay in. He searched his pockets. His phone had fallen off. But he had his wallet.

He started walking to where the car came from. If they ran in circles to throw him off, he’ll probably die before he gets anywhere near the city by now. When the sun had fully risen, his skin now starting to feel the prickling of his sweat and the burn of the hot rays of light, he kept going. He kept pushing his legs forward, one in front of the other.

By sundown, he felt something in his stomach churn and eat him away from the inside. He shivered, despite the warmth. Then he decided to rest for just a few minutes to press back the tingling pain in his horribly dried up throat. He sat on the grass, weight on his hands, then he looked up at the sky, at the lack of clouds and immense brightness.

And he wasn’t upset about any of it. He wasn’t so worried about his life as he should be, dying of hunger, dying of thirst, feeling the heat burn his skin, or that he might never get home soon enough to actually live. He wasn’t so worried about what could happen to him in the cold dark or if he ever actually does find shelter, or help, or a single car that hadn’t passed by him so far.

He was sure he’d survive. He’d gone through worse. So much worse. And it was no different from being a child at crime alley not knowing if he was getting some food on his plate that day or not.

But it wasn’t even because of that why he wasn’t crying out in desperation and scavenging for any sort of help he could find.

He didn’t worry, because all he could ever think about was what could possibly be happening to Y/N in Belle Reve right that moment.

Jason never liked being in the unknown when it came to her, when she wasn’t by his side. When they were apart, as often as he could, he made sure to follow her around when she wasn’t expecting it, keep tabs on her almost every minute of the day, know where she was going and what she wanted to do. It had always been something in him to make sure the one person he loved more than anything else in the world was okay. Watch her from afar. Make sure she wasn’t hurt. That she wasn’t hurting herself. When she came back to him he swore he’d never lose her again. He swore to himself, and to her.

And now it was that all over again. And this time, he might never get to hold her for the rest of his life. This time, he might actually lose her for good. There was no way for him to follow her, to know what she was doing.

And it scared him to death. Scared him so much that it tore away every rational thinking in his head. That was most probably going to kill him. His lack of instinct. His lack of the will to keep going. When all he could think about was whether she was actually still alive and not have the bomb in her neck explo-

Jason pulled on his hair.

He already missed her so much…

He was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t have so much as a picture of her to look at.

Wait.

His wallet.

He pulled it out.

An old photo of her. From her identification all the way back from the militia. From when she was recruited. He got her files and looked through them. Found her picture. Thought she was pretty. Had the files on his desk for months and after a while he ended up bringing it with him. Kept it in his wallet for two years and completely forgot about it. He thought he was a creep then, especially since they weren’t even so much as friends, but he remembered.

He got out his wallet and took it out from an enclosed pocket.

Hair kept back, cropped up to her collarbone and her face staring at him blankly. But her eyes still had that remnant of brightness and her mouth was so subtly curving up on one side.

Jason had his eyes on that little picture until he realized he had to keep going.

-----

Floyd’s old cell.

Waller and her sick little game.

She wasn’t placed with the other women in the prison with shared cells and barred gates. She was forced into the old cell of Floyd Lawton. Instead its walls of iron were three inches thick, solid, indestructible. There was but a little opening at eye’s length and another by the handle to bring in her food. It wasn’t as small as she thought it would be. But it smelled like five rats had died there this morning.

Deadshot took too long to get in and a baton swung against her back.

She fell to the floor and swore she heard her spine crack. For a moment her nerves stopped working, a buzzing numbness in slow surges, all except for the sharp pain at the base of her back.

“Get in there!” the guard screamed at her then kicked her further down. Crawling into the cell, she heard the gate slam shut and the whole room grow dim, save for a single orange light at the corner.

She didn’t do so much as stand up for a few hours. Her head was stuck to the ground, curled up to her stomach just to cling into some parts of her body that wasn’t already in pain. Everything in her hurt so much. There was a small cot at the corner and a punching bag at the other side. That had to be for Floyd. She didn’t want it. She hated that she wasn’t so much as given her own cell and had to settle for yet another of whatever scraps her uncle left behind. She got his guns. His suit. His fucking name. and now, she fucking laughed, she got his kills, his debt, his life sentences, his squad, his boss, his cell.

Everything she had. Everything she’s ever stood to live for. It had all been a remnant of who Floyd Lawton was. Never hers. She had no identity. Nothing good ever came out of anything he’s given her. Only a lifetime of running and money and taking lives. There had only ever been one good thing that came out of it.

And she had to lose him, too.

Deadshot had no idea if Jason was ever going to be okay. That he wasn’t going to eventually get himself killed without anyone holding him back. She couldn’t check on him anymore. She’ll have no idea if he even dies.

So she was just going to have to tell herself that he’ll be okay.

When the late afternoon came, she finally took to standing from the ground, on her knees, then she held herself up with the wall and hissed at how her bones cracked at the lack of movement. Everything hurt so much. She went to the cot, sat on its edge, and waited until the sun fell and rose again.

In the morning, the guards threw in a single burnt toast through the hole on the door. She didn’t touch it.

When the sun fell once more, she fell back against the wall and closed her eyes. She didn’t even get to sleep. No matter how much her eyelids started to hurt.

On the next day, they threw an apple into her cell. Deadshot took a bite, spat it out, then threw it out of the single window through the bars.

That night, she couldn’t bare not being able to sleep anymore. She tossed around in the cot, turning off all her other senses even when it only ended up amplifying the dead, yet raging thoughts.

She wanted a life. A good one. And finally it was within her grasps and it went away as quickly as it came. This wasn’t living. This was merely taking up space. This wasn’t a life anymore and it sucked when she knew there was nothing to look forward to.

Everything hurt to think about. Everything. Except when it often trailed off to Jason. Then her heart would swell, her wonderous thoughts halted. Thoughts of him. Thoughts of how he was. It was as calming as it was painful. And even if it stung, it brought back her humanity.

So she resorted to him. When the pain became too much. When her cell got too cold, or when the guards started to taunt her. When the cot got too uncomfortable or when her most silent screams haunted her at night.

She thought of him.

Is Jason okay? Is he eating? Is he even alive? Is he back in their apartment or out of Gotham or…

No. He wasn’t going to be okay.

Even if he was alive. Even if he was eating three times a day or if he was out of the state.

She knew. Because the moment she walked out of the apartment all those months ago, when she regrettably left the love of her life, she never stopped looking after him. He had no idea. He thought he was the one following her around. But out on patrols when Red Hood thought he was working alone, Deadshot was a few hundred yards away, looking out on her scope, watching and waiting for anything that might come out to take him down or anything he might not get to handle.

She never loved anyone like she loved him, and she often smiled at how they came to be, how it wasn’t supposed to be. No one would have thought it would work, but when it actually happened, it always made sense. To everyone.

Her Jason. Her sweet Jason.

She clutched at her chest.

She’ll have her thoughts of him to keep going. That somehow if she stayed alive, it was a step closer to getting to be with him again. A step closer than if she were dead.

And subjecting him to that kind of pain, when she knew he loved her, too, when he’s always made it clear, always made sure she knew he loved her.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t too calming to think about him.

If anything, it only made the pain even worse.

------

Was that a house?

It looked like one.

It had a windmill, too.

And probably a barn.

Twenty-six hours of walking on the side of the road. Twenty-six hours of no food. No water. No shelter. Twenty-six hours, and only two cars have passed by him. Not one of them stopped.

Jason’s hair was sticking to his forehead now from the immense amount of sweat that had seeped out of his hairline, which was only going to lessen his days to live from three to just two or one. His throat. It was practically as course as the cement road.

But when he saw the house. A triangular roof. A windmill. A field right in front and what looked like a small barn by its side.

He only hoped it wasn’t a mirage.

Jason kept going, and his feet felt so much heavier to lug around like they were sacks of rice strapped to his knees. But he kept walking, further down until he started seeing the house’s porch that had a rocking chair inside it. He might have even seen a dog, running out of the house with its tail wagging and going back in through the doggy door.

Once he reached the front yard, he almost fell to his knees. The sun was scorching and he was probably going to come out of this with his skin almost burnt off of his flesh. If he ever does get out of this alive. But he could see from the screen door that there was someone inside. Human beings that might actually have the heart to help him. Jason swallowed what little fluids there was left in his desert of a mouth.

When he stepped into the porch, the dog came out once again, barking at him. It kept its stance outside the door and snarled whenever Jason tried to go anywhere near the front entrance.

“Who’s out there?!”

It was the voice of an old man. Not so old to be rickety and harsh, barely enough to be audible with his mouth probably struggling to keep up. He seemed to be up to his sixties. When he went up to the door, he stared at Jason through the screen.

“You need anything, boy?”

Jason tried to speak, but even that hurt to do. He tried to cough it out but it was like running his throat through a wrought iron bar.

“I’m… I need help…”

The old man stepped closer, peering in through the tiny holes of the netting. “You look like shit.”

“Can I… have some water?”

The dog stopped his barking, it started to take interest in his smell, on his shoes in particular. Its tail was up especially when his nose started smelling up his leg.

“How long have you been out here? The next city’s hours away by car.”

“A day. Probably. I’m not too sure.”

The old man unlocked the screen door and leaned against the archway. “You look like a dangerous man. You ain’t here to rob me, are ya?”

“No sir. Please. I just need some water.”

Jason saw his throat hitch, looking away out into the field for a short while before he eventually nodded. “Take a seat. Right there. I’ll get you a glass.”

The rocking chair. To him, it looked like the softest bed. He slumped down, tried so hard to keep his eyes open when all of him weighed a ton. He heaved his chest up in a slow, steady pace and made sure not to go into whatever light there might be that greets him.

Jason actually did take a bit of a nap when the door pushed open and he jolted in his seat. The man handed him a glass of cold water.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The dog was beside him once again. This time, it started to pant, like it was smiling at him with his tail wagging. He placed the glass between his lips and savored every single drop of water like it was liquified gold running down his throat. It hurt. All the way down his stomach. But he’s never had anything so refreshing.

“Can't walk back out there. You’ll die.”

“I have to. I can't stay here.”

“Plenty of bodies found at the side of the road with their stomachs inside out. I’m telling you, kid. You won't survive out there.”

With the glass empty, he pressed it onto his head just to cool himself off.

“Here. I’ll get you another glass.”

Jason didn’t want to ask for another but the man had already grabbed the glass away from him and went back inside. When he came out, he brought a sandwich with him as well.

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”

“I said don’t mention it. Folks out here getting lost. Some I offer to help and they end up taking an old family heirloom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But when they aren’t pieces of shit, it’s nice to know I’ve saved a few lives.”

“Yeah,” Jason bit into the sandwich. “I know the feel.”

“I don’t have a spare bed. But you can stay over at the barn.”

“I really can't stay. Someone needs me.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. No car’s about to pass by and give you a ride and you’ll die before you’ll even get to Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?! Where am I?!”

The old man burst out a hearty laugh.

“Where you from, kid?”

“Gotham City.”

He whistled a hiss. “You're a long way from home, young man.” Jason took his time to drink up the water. Just so the man wouldn’t feel the need to get him another one.

“You're at the interstate going to Tennessee. From the looks of it, whoever dropped you off took you somewhere between here and Birmingham.”

Fuck. So the cops, if they were even cops at this point, didn’t drive for four hours. They were driving for twelve.

Fuck Waller and her men.

“I should be going.”

“Stay over at the barn. Every three days two buses pass along this road. One for each way. It’s either that, or the vultures will have you for breakfast. That’s more time than you probably have surviving out there by yourself.”

Jason stared at his half-eaten sandwich and his glass of water.

Yeah. Think rationally. He could at least do that for himself. The heat definitely was getting to him.

When he finished his food, he stayed on that chair until the sky went dark.

-----

The food was so disgusting, it was inhumane.

Two days. And all Deadshot had eaten was a stale piece of bread, two bites out of a rotten apple, half a bowl of chili, and a greasy patty. Her stomach was going to give out any second now. And the hot porridge of something they just threw in was definitely going to make her puke if she even had anything in her stomach right then.

Every part of her body numb, she went up to the punching bag.

One.

Two.

Three.

Her fists didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Even when her bones were basically made of jelly by now. She hit the bag, balled up her tight fists.

Six.

Seven.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Floyd. Floyd. Floyd.

It had been a while since he spoke to her.

But every second in this cell, she’s heard Floyd’s name being whispered amongst the guards more than anything else there was. Referring to her. To what she was. Floyd’s second. Floyd’s niece. Floyd’s protégé. Floyd’s heir.

Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.

She wasn’t Y/N. None of them cared enough about her real identity. Not even the news stations cared enough to flash her real name on the screen for more than a few seconds before calling her Deadshot for the rest of their report. She can't call herself Y/N in a place where all people would look at her for was to compare her to her uncle.

She heard voices. Outside. Guards.

Lots of them.

“OPEN THE GATES!”

“EVERYBODY, LINE UP FOR EXTRACTION.”

“LET’S GO. MOVE. MOVE.”

Huh.

So that was today.

They all had to be armed. And ready to take her down.

She can put up a bit of a fight. For the fun of it.

She turned away from the bag, fists secured up to her head. She saw their faces incoming. A large shield held by the front liner and about ten viciously armed guards trailing behind.

“Come on, motherfuckers!” Deadshot said.

“GO. GO.”

The door slid open.

The shield pushed her to the ground before she could even do so much as move out of the way. She jumped up, twisted the arm that grabbed onto her and kneed him to the pelvis, stomped on his thighs.

Guns started aiming at her.

“Don’t you dare shoot that gun!” Their leader screamed at them.

Not long after, her arms were being held back, another one grabbing her legs. She flailed and kicked about.

“I can walk, you assholes!”

“Can't take the chance.”

A chair. A wheelchair that looked more like a torture machine than anything else. She thrashed about and screamed just as they placed her to sit on it, strapping her arms and head in place so she could barely move at all.

She calmed. She didn’t struggle. She didn’t even ask where she was going. She knew exactly where she was headed.

When they took her to an impossibly dark hallway where at the end, she saw soldiers without armor waiting for her with a suitcase, she swallowed.

“This gonna hurt?” she asked.

“You won't feel a thing…”

She breathed. Breathed. Breathed. Slowly as the chair went closer to the station, she tried so much to hide her neck, but couldn’t with the straps.

And when she saw the size of the needle gun, she jumped up in her seat.

“It’s been six fuckin’ years since Floyd, you didn’t think to have a little upgrade in your equipment?”

“Shut up.”

They pressed the gun to her neck and shot the nanite explosive right past her flesh and muscle.

It was like surviving a bullet and staying awake the whole time it went into her skin. She screamed out in so much pain. It was a bullet. It was a bullet. It was a fucking bullet. She was shot. No. She was dying. Bleeding. She pulled on all the straps.

“Let me go!”

“Take her back to the cell.”

Every hair on her body was sticking up. She swore she felt it bleed. There was something running down her neck. Onto her orange suit. The whole time she was taken to her place, she wouldn’t stop screaming and crying out for the help that was never to come.

They took her back in, undid the straps.

Then she fell to the ground.

“Calm down,” the guard said. “Everybody move out!”

Once again, she was alone. In an old, dusty prison cell that wasn’t even hers to begin with.

At least she thought she was.

“You shouldn’t be so scared of bullets…”

No.

The nerve of this man.

He just had to show up now.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You have no one else to talk to.”

“That doesn’t mean I need you.”

Floyd was sitting on the edge of her little bed, crouched over to his knees. “Get up,” he said.

Something within her, so used to doing exactly as he told her to, it wouldn’t let her say no. She shut her eyes closed and crawled over to a wall so she can pull herself up. Her hand went over to her neck, at the same mark Floyd had on his.

“Don’t touch it.”

She leaned against the wall, arms over her chest.

“Even when you were scared of bullets coming right at you, you were never afraid of guns.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You love guns. You love what you do. Don’t pretend I put you up to a life you never wanted.”

“This?!” she pointed up around the cell. “This wasn’t what I wanted. Not by a long shot.”

“But you knew there was a risk. You took it anyway. You put yourself in more danger than you can handle because you wanted to.”

No. He fucking wasn’t going to use that against her.

“I cleared your debts. I’m here because Waller wanted another Deadshot on the team. It’s because of you, I have a bomb in my neck. I always wanted to be a fucking great markswoman, but it doesn’t mean I wanted to be you.”

It would have probably stung him if he was here at all. But frankly, a figment of her imagination wouldn’t have its feelings hurt if she didn’t want it to.

Floyd let out a sigh and patted the side of the cot to let her sit beside him.

“Y/N…”

Only in her head. She finally hears her name after two days.

She rolled her eyes and took the damn seat.

“You know why you have that fear?”

Her attention never left the ground.

“You know how much you hurt people. All the way back from when you shot your first target. The more you killed, the more you realized how painful it was going to be when the world bites you back and gives you what you think you deserve…”

“It is what I deserve.”

“You think irony is what’s going to kill you.”

“Stop it.”

“But this is who you are. You have never been me. You have always been a different Deadshot. And I knew that. Always. Zoe could see it. Jason could see it-“

“Don’t. Say. His name.”

“This is you. And you're forgetting what you used to call yourself when you were little. When you weren’t so afraid of it taking your life. I never gave you a name because you’ve already named yourself-“

“FLOYD-“

“You are The Bullet. If you think irony wants you dead, bit it back in the ass. Become your fear.”

“AGH!”

She swung at her side, but Floyd was gone.

-----

A pile of hay was actually nice to lay down on.

The cow that was staring at him the whole time, though, was quite unnerving. The chickens as well. And they woke him up just as the sun began to rise, and Jason never would have thought he’d have to wake up to ten chickens and roosters screaming at his ear, as a well a dog with so much salivation licking up his face.

He relieved himself, scratched his head, splashed his face with a bucket of water. Already, he felt so much better.

When he walked out of the barn, Jason saw the old farmer stretching his arms at the porch. He turned over to him and waved. Jason waved back. then he saw him gesture for him to come over and reluctantly, he did.

“Got a good night’s rest?”

“I certainly did. I can't thank you enough.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.”

“I really should-“

“Oh, young man, you shouldn’t feel like this is of any trouble. ‘Cuz you are going to get your breakfast yourself.”

He wasn’t so sure what that meant. “What?”

“Here’s a basket. Stay away from the chicken at the far back. She likes to peck out of your fingers.”

Oh. Well, shit.

“Okay,” Jason swallowed.

He went back into the barn and walked on over to the chicken coop. There were a few of the females in their cages laying eggs. And the roosters were just strutting about like they owned the place.

A certain one with a smooth head and red and yellow feathers started pecking at his feet. “You know, you remind me of a certain replacement back at home.”

The rooster clucked, then walked away into the hay piles.

“Okay, don’t kill me,” Jason kept his head away when he reached in and felt for eggs in the nest. It was still warm to touch. He took two and placed them on the basket. He did the same over the other ones until he reached the last one. The largest one.

But she had her own eggs inside and there wasn’t really much for both of them to eat. He closed one eye as he reached over…

“BUUUUUCK!” The chicken bit his hand and rapidly flapped her wings at Jason, then he instantly shut the cage door.

“Shit.”

He went back over to the house and knocked on the door. The farmer smiled at him as he took the basket.

“Come on. You can wait over at the table and I’ll fry these babies up.”

“I don’t mean to impos-“

“Eh, come on over.”

The old man had already turned around and went into the kitchen. His house was so small. There was only one couch. No TV. A lot of books. A dinner table that sat two.

He went over to the shelf.

It wasn’t so much the kind of books he read. Not the classics. They were all dime romance novels you’d find at a gas station store. And there were a lot of them.

“My wife left them behind,” the farmer said to him. “I read one everyday. Just to keep some kind of memory of her.”

He smiled. Because he didn’t say it like he was someone to pity over. He said it like it was something to be proud of. And it was.

“You read the paper, boy? It’s over there.”

He pointed at the newspaper on the table. “We got a delivery boy from the next house. I pay him a hefty price just to come all the way up here everyday.”

“They still have newspapers?”

The old man narrowed his boys. “Youngsters.”

He took the paper and sat on the table. Nothing much interested him. Mostly just news on a town in Tennessee.

But there was one, tiny section at the corner that caught his eye.

‘Dead Billionaire Falcone Found Penniless’

‘Gotham City’s billionaire philanthropist Carmine Falcone, after being murdered in his office underneath the Gotham Museum of Art, was discovered to have left nothing to his apparent heirs, as the title of all his assets, the museum included, had been secretly sold out and transferred ownership to various other enterprises from all across the world. This includes all the recently bought out conglomerates and properties from other businessmen of Gotham, such as Salvatore Maroni and ten others. These assets have since been liquidated just days prior to his death. But as they checked all of Mr. Falcone’s accounts, the numbers were as good as zeroes. It is unknown where the money had gone to and why the billionaire chose to do so. The Falcone Family insists on investigating the matter and getting the inheritance that their patriarch had left behind.’

 The old farmer then placed his plate of eggs on the table, as well as a few strips of bacon.

“Killed that boar just a few days ago. Pig’s been feeding me everyday since then,” he chuckled, then he took the seat beside Jason and ate up his food.

When Jason was washing the plates, the old farmer had fallen asleep on his couch. It was refreshing, seeing folks like this so trusting. It will kill him, one of these days. If he ever lets in the wrong kind of people. And looking around, he didn’t even look like he had a gun. If Jason had one with him, he’d give it to the old man just so he’d have some chance against the evils out there.

Jason sat out the porch, on the rocking chair. He watched as the field of wheat danced along the wind, as the grass fluttered with that beautiful, calming sound brushing against each other. Every so often, the wind strengthens, and it was with the bells hung on the door and the windvane that sounded so well with the leaves being blown away. It was so different from Gotham.

He pulled out the picture of Y/N and instantly, everything felt even lighter. And heavier. At the same time. Lighter because she brightens up everything there was, wherever he was. And heavier because she wasn’t actually here. And while he was this lucky to have found the help he needed, she, on the other hand, wasn’t.

He’s never had anyone sacrifice so much for him more than she did.

She loved him so much…

And the prison was all the way over to Louisiana. The opposite side of where he was going. After a night’s rest, he realized there wasn’t even anything waiting for him at Gotham. She wasn’t there. Everything he hated, on the other hand, was. There was nothing left for him. Nothing he could go back to.

“Pretty thing, she is.”

The old man was leaning against the wall behind him, looking over his shoulder at Y/N’s picture.

“Yeah… the prettiest.”

“Your girl?”

He nodded.

“She who you going back to in Gotham?”

“She… uh… isn’t there.”

“Where is she then?”

This man didn’t know anyone five miles outside his house. It probably wouldn’t matter. “She’s… in Belle Reve.”

“Oh,” He wheezed through the spaces in his gums. “Sorry to hear that.”

“I should have gone there with her.”

“Belle Reve, eh?” the farmer asked.

“Yeah.”

“Take the bus across the street. You’ll end up going back to where you came from but that bus’s going all the way over to Louisiana.

“There’s a bus going to the prison?”

“Aye. I suggest you go after her. You got better things to do back at home?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at the fluttering wheat and the tall grass around it.

“I served my time. Four years. My wife visited me all the time. Made me feel appreciated. Like she never gave up on me. Doesn’t matter what I did or what I’ve done to deserve it.”

“What did you do?”

He laughed. “What didn’t I do? I was a bad kid. All the way up to my thirties. Everyone looked at me like I was some sort of rat. Especially my son. He left the minute he could walk and never came back.”

“I’m sorry…” he shook his head. “And I know how it feels. Being a troubled kid.”

“Then that woman of yours better look at you differently than everyone else, ‘cuz they be the only ones we hang on to. Makes us want to do better and prove them right.”

Yeah. Definitely.

That night, he slept on the rocking chair looking up at the stars. When he woke up, the farmer had placed a blanket over him.

-----

“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”

“Get up from the damn floor, Lawton!”

“My name…” Deadshot spat at the floor. “…isn’t Lawton.”

“I don’t care. Get up.”

The taser was brought right back up against her spine. Daring her. Waiting for her to try to snap another neck. Then with both her arms held back, they started leading her out into the open field.

“Usually, we do this far away from the facility. But with Waller here, she wanted to see what you can do.”

“Ah. Tryouts. Do I get this fucking bomb off my neck if I fail?”

“No. It will detonate.”

“Fuck you.”

Out into the bright, glimmering sunshine, she squinted her eyes and shielded her face with her hair. But she could barely do so much as blink when there were five guards around her, armed this time. She could probably reach out into a man’s hip and grab a gun without them looking if she didn’t already know where she was headed.

Out on the bright, orange field. Clear of grass and littered with human shaped shooting targets. They were, however, laid out side by side, closely to each other. She would have thought they’d be further apart. And they all stood on top of a black, outstretched tire that went in a large circle.

Amanda Waller. One of her men held out an umbrella for her despite her being a few inches taller. There were even more armed men littered around. One more so than the rest. A pale-skinned man with a large AK over his chest, a bullet proof vest, military gear. Sunglasses that shielded his eyes.

Rick Flag.

“So you’re the new Deadshot,” Rick greeted her as they dragged her toward the range. “I see the resemblance.”

“She’s even more daring than Floyd,” Waller said to her. “I’d be careful.”

“Well, we might as well know now if she’s any better than her uncle.”

“I am.”

“Are you now?”

“That’s what she says,” Waller raised a brow at her.

“Unlock her.”

She waited for the guards to take out the cuffs. Smoothing out her wrists, she stretched out her arms.

“How would you know I won't shoot you?”

“I don’t. But I’m here to see if you're just a fraud or if you're at least half as good as your uncle. Now get to work.”

Her neck stretching over to the side, Deadshot went over to the table. A whole arsenal of weapons. AKs. Sniper rifles. Pistols. With all the magazines and ammo she needed. She walked on over and picked the pistol.

The daylight young, the people around her silent, everyone turned their watchful eyes on her, guns out, ready to pounce.

She pointed the AK-47 at the targets and fired.

At the ten targets. One shot on each of their heads. She shot it all within a second, just as she told Waller she could do. And at the next round, she shot those exact same bullet holes in the same length of time. And all over again five times over.

There was only just one hole on each target. A hole she’s shot at several times from a hundred yards away.

She placed the AK back onto the table.

“Done. Can I go now?”

“No. We decided to give you more of a challenge.”

The rubber tire, or what looked like one, where the targets were standing on, they all of a sudden started spinning slowly in a circle at a click on Rick Flag’s remote. Turning over the corner, back facing Deadshot, before it turned back to face her again. It was a fucking conveyer belt.

Deadshot bit onto her gums.

She took the pistol this time.

“Go.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“We didn’t have this in our time,” Floyd said to her ear.

“Shut up.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The targets had turned. She had to shoot their backs. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Almost missed that one. She placed another magazine.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Eighteen.

Twenty-two.

The target looked like it was about to break. Even with it made of metal.

Thirty. Forty.

Then the target got faster.

She took an M-16 Carbine.

The recoil was sharp on her shoulder, painful when it pushed her back. She kept firing. Firing. She was slower, took her time just a bit more. She reloaded it not long after until finally, one of the target’s heads actually blew off.

Sixty. Seventy. Eighty

Finally, the Barret MRad Sniper rifle.

The targets started spinning even faster. But she didn’t flinch. She kept her focus.

She breathed.

She slowed her heartbeat.

She cleared her thoughts.

Ninety-seven.

‘Come on.’

Ninety-eight.

‘You’re almost there.’

Ninety-nine.

‘Become the bullet.’

One fucking hundred.

Breaths out, she put the gun back on the table.

Then Flag turned off the conveyer belt.

One hundred shots. Which meant each target should have had around ten bullets pierce through it’s head.

But there was only one bullet hole on all of them. Right at the center of their heads. The same ones she had already made.

“Sorry about the other one,” she shrugged. “Didn’t realize your equipment wasn’t up to par.”

Flag didn’t move his head, but let his eyes follow her until she walked over to the guards, put her hands behind her and smirked.

“I’m surprised you're not asking for a million dollars like your uncle.”

“He asked for Zoe to live a good life. And you couldn’t even give that. And trust me, I’ve already made my deal with your boss. Am I right, Waller?”

Waller’s frown was something no one would be able to draw. Her nostrils were flared up, and the way Deadshot just smiled at her, it was braver than anyone else in the whole building had done.

The guards kept their silence now. Didn’t stick a taser up her back. Didn’t beat her with a baton on the way to her cell. But when they locked her up, they added just one more lock on its hinges. She placed her elbows against the door and looked out through the opening, watching the guards avoid the look on her eye.

-----

Six eggs. The last chicken finally let him hand over her lays and he walked happily out of the barn and walked back into the house.

“Here,” he gave it to the old man.

“Thank you, son. You’re a real good man.”

“No. I don’t… I don’t know how to thank you enough. You saved my life.”

“Ah. Don’t mention it. The company you’ve given me? More than what I could ask for. You remind me so much of my son. Except, you're a lot nicer.”

Jason watched him crack the eggs into the pan.

“I should get going.”

“You won't stay for breakfast?”

“I can't. But thank you.”

“Here,” he went over to his fridge and took out a sandwich. “Prepared it for you. For the trip back.”

He didn’t even know how much he’s thanked this man so far. Who was he? Did he know Jason somehow? Was he someone he forgot?

Probably not. He was just a lonely old man in need of company. His wife would have died three, maybe four years ago, and he only ever goes out into the city once a month. He wasn’t sure if he even talks to people in between them.

“I guess I can have a bite,” Jason said.

The old man’s smile was incomparable.

They ate and laughed the whole time on that table. Jason ate the eggs, drank the freshest glass of milk he’s had in a long time. He had bathed in the barn that morning and he’s never felt better since he got dropped off in the middle of nowhere. It was humbling, where he was.

He could only wish he got to share this with Y/N. He and the farmer would have hit it off.

The old man went out with him on the porch. The bus to Gotham arrives in five minutes.

“Here.” Jason took out his wallet and took out a few bills. “For your troubles.”

“Son, I have no use for money. I grow my own food. I buy only the absolute necessities. You would end up needing it more than I do.”

“Please…”

The old man held out his hand, shook his head. Every time, he surprises him.

“I can't believe I never caught your name…” Jason said.

He grinned from ear to ear, tipped down his hat, then laughed. “Name’s Bruce.”

It caught him off guard. Just for a second. “What?”

“Bruce Larkin. Lived in Tennessee my whole life.”

He stretched out his hand for him to take. Eyes not leaving his face, Jason took it. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Jason. Jason Todd.”

“Young Jason. Pleasure to have met you.”

“You're a good man, Bruce.”

“I may have done my deeds, but I lived a good life. Now go. Bus should be here in a few seconds.”

It almost hurt having to leave the old man behind. One of these days, he’ll come back. Pay a visit. Still, it made him wonder who this man truly was, what his intentions actually were.

He’s only met so many good people, truly good people, ones who never think of anything in return and take happiness out of helping strangers they didn’t know. It was hard to believe that no matter the cruelties he’s dealt with his whole life, there were the pure angels out there to lift him back up.

And, the one thing he couldn’t believe he noticed, Farmer Bruce never once mentioned the mark on his face. Didn’t think it tainted him or looked at it long enough to make him squirm.

He looked back out at the house. Bruce was still there, hands in his pockets.

The bus stopped in front of him and the door split open.

If he gets on, he’ll be off to Gotham.

If he stays behind and crosses the street, he’ll wait another five minutes for the bus to Louisiana. He’ll risk his life and do anything to see Y/N again.

It wasn’t even a hard decision to make.

Jason watched the bus doors closed. Then when it left, he crossed the street. Minutes later the next bus stopped and he got in. Waving at Bruce through the window, he settled down and closed his eyes.

He watched the miles of grass, wide open fields, swamps, forests, and lakes pass through him in the window. He let the calmness help him mellow down. And although it helped, it only guilted him into remembering the tortures his one love had to be going through right now. While he was so lucky, she was suffering. Fuck.

He had no idea what to expect. The day turned to night, then turned back to morning. He was in the bus for hours. Absolutely nothing went on in his mind. And he was scared. He didn’t even have a plan. He was probably going to have to break into Belle Reve. And that was if they hadn’t already taken her away to some god awful mission and possibly lose her life.

He couldn’t sleep on the bus. But he was ready. He was going to stop at nothing to see her.

The gates of Belle Reve. He hopped off the cab and stared at it from the outside.

Then he saw a few guards doing their rounds around the perimeter.

If he was fast enough, he might catch one of them alone. It’ll be all he needed. So he watched the cameras. Found a blind spot. And it was a risk without his visor on.

But for Y/N, it didn’t seem like much of a risk at all.

-----

This cot was going to blow out anytime soon.

It wasn’t even that she was heavy. It was rickety and old, probably the same exact one Floyd used. And Floyd was a large man. The seams started to rip and the place where her ass lays against was as worn out as a dirty rag. She didn’t like to think about why that was.

But god help her if she even cares much about the stupid cot. She laid against the wall, knees up to her chest. The wall was staring back at her like and she wasn’t about to let it win. Was she going crazy? Probably. She didn’t care much about that either. She’ll be working with Harley. She’ll have to be crazy to deal with her.

She heard guards from outside. So she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

Only one guard, it seems. There weren’t any talking. And there was only one set of footsteps coming her way. She hated that even more. Then the taunting and catcalling and harassing won't be in any way hindered.

“Y/FN Y/LN?”

That was a first. No one’s said her real name in… ever.

“What do you want?”

She heard the small opening at her door slide open. The guard’s voice was less muffled now. “It’s me.”

Who-

That voice.

She looked up.

“Oh my god…” she leapt up the cot and ran all the way over to the door. Hands on the iron, eyes watery and gleaming against the dim, orange light.

Jason was the most beautiful man in the whole world and he looked no less than an angel disguised as a guard, half his face covered with a mask. But it was, without a doubt, his bright blue eyes that was staring right at her.

“I’m here, baby…”

“Jason…” The endless tears. All of it. She hadn’t even cried her whole time in Belle Reve. She’s screamed. She’s yelled out in the most horrible pain. But she never cried. And all those days of torture, it came out of her now. Even more so when Jason pulled down his mask and pressed his forehead against the door to get as close to her as she could.

At the bottom opening, he had his hand out. Y/N took it and held it so tightly that her fingers started going numb. He took off his gloves so he could feel her warmth. Or rather, let her feel his warmth.

“You are a complete dumbass for breaking in here,” she cried.

“I know. I am. But I’ve always been one for you.”

“God,” she reached out with her other hand, holding both of his. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Are you alright? What did they do to you?”

She wanted to lie. Tell him she was okay. Even though she was barely even holding up on her own two feet. “Just about how every prisoner gets treated here…”

“Fuck… Y/N…”

His thumb over her skin, she never felt so happy over something that was never going to last.

“I swear I’ll do anything to get you out.”

“Jay…” she cried. “You’ll die…”

“And if I don’t, you’ll die.”

“I’ll be alright. They’ll let you visit. After a while. I think. I’m not too sure.”

“I’m not taking that chance.”

“Jay-“

“No. I mean it. I’m not going to let this go. You can't possibly expect me to move on…”

No. She didn’t. Not without the worst kinds of pain that’ll possibly drive him mad.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Look at me.”

She did. He was so beautiful…

“I’ll get you out. You won't have to suffer for long. I’ll make sure of it. One way or another, I’m getting you out.”

He’s never held his hand so tight.

“Okay…”

Footsteps. They were coming.

“Shit…”

“I love you.”

“I love you so much. I promise you. I’m getting you out of here, Y/N.”

Y/N. She was Y/N again. Always had been.

Jason stuffed something small into her palm.

Then he left before the other guard could turn to the corner and see them together. He looked at Y/N, who was staring out the opening.

The guard squinted at her, walked closer, then shut the hole closed.

She looked at her palm.

The brightest blue engagement ring stared right back at her.

-----

Jason had to get out.

But he had to do this fast. He was at the guard’s lounge, where plenty were taking their lunch breaks. They didn’t give him so much as a glance when their eyes were focused onto the TV watching a football game. There was a telephone at a wall nearby. One he didn’t have to pay for.

He walked to it.

When he said he’ll do everything, he meant everything.

His pride could fucking suck it. His ego can die. He didn’t care if those assholes will have to think he’d grown soft. This was about Y/N. He didn’t care if he had to strut naked out at the Gotham Plaza. Though, this was so much worse.

Farmer Bruce would have done the same.

And he was going to get all the help he needed.

“Hello?”

“Dick,” his mouth trembled against the phone. “It’s me. Jason.”

“Jason?! This is a fucking collect call-“

“Then you better listen. Y/N’s in prison.”

“What?!”

He told him everything. About the deal with Waller. Her place in the Squad. The bomb in her neck. He tried with all he can to sound as desperate as he actually was. Dick, as much as it pained him to hear, wasn’t so convinced in what he asked of him.

“Jason, if you're asking me to help you get her out-“

“Please. Please. She’ll die. We need Oracle. And Robin.”

“Jason...” He heard Dick sigh.

The cops roared at the TV. Someone scored a goal.

“What Waller’s doing is wrong. You know that.”

“I know, but she made a deal with Bruce that he wasn’t to interfere with her task force.”

“We’re not Bruce. This is Y/N. Please, Dick, she’s the only thing I’ve got… You say you want me back in the family. Well, she’s my family. And I swear, if you help me with this, I owe you my life.”

“Okay. Okay,” he let out a sigh. “Okay. She’s… I understand.”

Jason’s breath was shaking against the phone. “I should be back in Gotham in a day’s time.”

“We need to do this as legally as possible. What did you have in mind?”

“I’m- I’m not so sure. It’s impossible to break her out of this place. They’ve upped the security since Harley broke out.”

“So we wait?”

“On her first mission out with the squad. We can go with them and sneak her out when no one’s looking. And I’ll need Oracle to come up with something that can disable the bomb in her neck.”

“Jason, that could be months from now.”

“Or days. Waller seemed persistent to get her here. I thought she might have been preparing for something. You heard about the news on Falcone?“

“Yeah. Real shady stuff. All his money went out to so many ghost accounts under different names of people that don’t even exist. And they’ve all been withdrawn. That’s billions of dollars.”

“Exactly. What if it’s just one guy? Waller knew about Falcone. She’s been warning Y/N not to work for him for a while. What if she knows exactly who’s behind it the whole time? Falcone’s puppet master to get him the money he needed?”

“That’s a long list of suspects, Jay.”

“We can narrow it dow-“

Loud groans from the guards screaming boos at the TV. When he looked up, he saw the game had been interrupted by breaking news.

Jason stopped talking to Dick when he saw the picture on the screen.

“Jason? You there?”

“Dick… Turn on the news…”

“Reports from Gotham City where it seems to have had history repeat itself from the night before the Arkham Knight Militia occupation. The National Bank of Gotham had just been exposed to a familiar cloud of fear toxin. One-hundred twenty-six people were inside the building as the smoke dispersed, and almost all of them had fallen victim from the bank’s armed guard, who had used his gun to massacre more than twenty people in the building. The victims were shown to have displayed severe cases of mania and hallucinations, causing them to act almost inhumane and do countless of harmful acts.”

“Fuck…” Dick said to the phone. “Not again…”

“The man behind this infamous toxin is no other than Dr. Jonathan Crane, also known by his alias as the Scarecrow-“

Vicki Vale stopped talking to the camera and pressed on her earpiece.

“Hold on. I’m getting reports on Scarecrow releasing a broadcast over at Times’ Square. Air it now!”

The camera switched over to one at the square. It faced the billboard.

Nothing changed. Not even his face. And if he weren’t paying attention, if Jason hadn’t been behind the camera the first time Scarecrow released his city wide warning, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

“This city… cannot so easily escape my reign of fear… If you thought the last time was the worst I can do, I am telling you now… Citizens of Gotham. This is no longer just about you. You can no longer escape. There is no use in evacuating… I have amassed a new Cloudburst weapon powerful enough to engulf the whole of the country in my latest toxin… This is not a warning to Gotham.

“This… is my only warning… to America…”

“Dick…” Jason said over to the phone. “Wanna bet on where he got the funding for that weapon?”

-----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

------

everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916@icequeen208@offendedfishnoises@egdolan@xemiefx@arkhamtoddler@elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noblezphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05flowersgirl02 @l-inkage​ @hyp-oh-critical​

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 10 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter ten 

~|Emily Fox|~

I see Charlie again on Thursday and Friday. He sorts the invoices since he’s the pro at deciphering Ash’s handwriting while I clean up anything that’s askew and sweep the floor. We steal glances every now and again, but neither of us says anything. We just smile at each other, knowing exactly what we want to do, but not daring to do so. Maybe for now, the knowing is enough. On Saturday evening, he brings the boys with him, just as he promised on Wednesday. It’s an hour before closing time, so they have to keep themselves busy while I handle the very last few customers. Which they do by keeping their eyes on me and laughing at my customer-service-tactics. Balling up the fists, the fake laughs, the straining against the eyeroll. “There you go,” I say to a middle-aged man, shopping with his son for some essentials for his guitar. “Have a nice day. Bye!” My smile immediately vanishes as soon as the customers have turned their backs to me, which sends the boys into a laughing fit. Now I don’t hold back rolling my eyes. “Can you guys not? A girl’s working!” They immediately shut up, trying to keep straight faces. “You might want to tell her the same,” Jeremy says, pointing to the guitar section where a young girl is reaching for a guitar that’s way too high up for her, meaning she’ll probably drop it from five foot high. “Don’t touch the instruments without supervision!” I yell, causing the girl to turn her head. Her eyes widen, like a deer in headlights. When I approach her, I recognize her as Kayla. The girl who’d asked me for piano lessons. “Oh, hey Kayla!” I greet with a smile. “Changing instruments?” I reach for the one she wanted. “Yeah, he said he was going to teach me,” she points at Jeremy who’s now the one that looks like a deer caught in headlights. I raise my eyebrow at him while he slowly collapses in shame. “Jeremy, really? This is a fourteen-year-old girl!” He now raises his hands, going for the defense. “It was meant to be purely professional!” “Nothing is ever professional with you,” Charlie chimes in, agreeing with me. I glance at him, and we exchange smiles, the ones we’ve been sharing for an entire week now. “Kayla, sweetie,” I turn back to the young girl when I’ve recomposed myself, “Don’t take guitar lessons from complete strangers. Especially not when they’re named Jeremy Shada, okay?” Kayla nods her head ferociously and leaves the shop at once. “A fourteen-year-old, Jere? Really?” Owen asks now that the little girl’s gone. “You guys are acting as if I’d do something bad to her. I swear I was going to teach her how to play the guitar,” his bandmates stare at him with raised eyebrows. “And I didn’t know she was only fourteen…” The words come out in just above a whisper. I shake my head at the boys and then check my watch. Closing time. Perfect. I walk over to the door and turn the little board at the window. “So, Emily…” Owen starts as the three boys hop off the piano they’d been sitting on. “When are you going to join our band?” I instantly glare at Charlie, telling him off for telling them. “I didn’t say anything, I promise,” he says, hands up. “Say what?” Jeremy wants to know. I take a deep breath and let it out into a sigh. “That’s she’s thinking about joining the band,” Charlie admits. The boys erupt into cheers, and Jeremy even wraps me up into a hug, almost the same way Charlie did earlier this week. Only less “I want to kiss you” vibes. “I’m thinking about it. Don’t get your hopes up,” I warn them but can’t help smiling either. It warms my heart to see how excited they are to have me in their band. “There’s one way to try and convince her,” Charlie suddenly says with a teasing smirk on his face. He walks past me and towards the electric guitars where he grabs one. “Cables?” he asks me, and I point to a wooden chest behind him where we keep all of our cables for amps and stuff. He sets up his guitar, tunes it a little, then plays a sick riff I’d heard before. I go to grab all the other equipment from the back, three microphones and stands for each of them, while Jeremy grabs a bass and Owen takes a seat behind the displayed drums. They help me set up the microphones and they’re good to go. Charlie plays the riff again, then Owen counts them in and they’re off singing Now or Never again. I watch them while I start cleaning up what’s left to clean up. I sing along every now and then when I remember the lyrics from the Open Mic Night. By the time they hit the bridge, I’m sweeping near Jeremy, and decide to surprise the boys. “We ain't searching for tomorrow,” Owen sings, and I take this as my cue to move closer to Jeremy – and his mic and sing the echo with him. “Tomorrow,” All three the boys look at me with surprise, but that doesn’t stop us. “'Cause we got all we need today,” goes Owen again. And then Jeremy and I echo together, “Today.” “Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins” Charlie sings without taking his eyes off me and without wiping that smile off his face. Jeremy now steps aside, leaving me to have my favorite line in the entire song. “We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain!” For the last chorus, all four of us begin clapping, like they did on Open Mic night. To finish it off, Jeremy, Owen and I take care of the backing vocals for Charlie.   “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we Hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never It's now or never” The three boys pant a little after giving their all while I continue sweeping as if nothing even happened. Although, I can’t hide the smirk that’s tugging on my lips. “Wow, that girl can sing!” Jeremy compliments me with a little smile. “Emily,” Charlie’s voice beckons me to look up, “Please, join Sunset Curve?” “Still thinking about it,” I tell him, but I already know I want to. Jamming with these boys feels amazing and I’d do it forever if it wasn’t for my uncle. I need to figure out how I’m going to be okay with singing and writing music with other people. Until I do, I’m going to keep them in a little bit of agony. “Come on, Emmy?” The nickname rips my heart out, even if it’s coming from Charlie’s mouth. “Don’t call me that,” I snarl, startling him a little. I shut my eyes for a second. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s my default reaction to hearing that nickname when it’s from the wrong person. “Sorry, but please, don’t call me that. Anything but that.” I send him a knowing look, hoping that’ll say enough about the why. “Sorry…” he whispers, then wets his lips before continuing, “But Ems, we just rocked that with you. Have we really not convinced you yet?” He has that same puppy-dog-eyes look on his face. Does he know how much that has an effect on me and is he doing it on purpose, or? “Give me a week, okay? I just need to find a way to be okay with… You know…” Charlie nods his head, respecting my decision. I offer him an appreciative smile, hoping that would do. “No, I don’t know. Okay with what?” Jeremy earns a slap on the arm from Owen on that one. “Do you ever think some things aren’t your business?” The dark haired boy simply shrugs. “Hey, why don’t you guys let me hear that new song of yours? Finally Free? I heard it’s good,” I glance at Charlie for the last part, and exchange a smirk with him. He knows. We both know. “Uhm, sure?” Owen says, seemingly confused. “Version two, guys, don’t forget,” Charlie tells them just before Owen counts them in and they’re off playing the song. It sounds amazing. Such a fun song when you add the drums, bass and electric feel of the guitar rather than the acoustic guitar Charlie played it on for me. While I clean up the rest of the store, I mime the song along for as far as I still remember it, hoping the boys won’t see so I don’t have to sing along with them. What I do show them are my killer dance moves with the broom, which really does make them laugh. “That sounds awesome, you guys!” I say excitedly when they’ve finished. Charlie places his guitar on the stand, calling in a break. “I think Sunset Curve might have a hit with that one.” The boys all give me a shy smile as they all gather at the piano again, having ditched their instruments. “Now you,” it almost sounds like a dare. “Now me what?” I ask, keeping my eyes on him. “Show me your song!” The boy sounds way too excited and looks the part too. With his eyes wide and his smile nearly reaching his eyes. I glance from Charlie to Owen to Jeremy and back. “I mean, it’s not really fi—” Owen interrupts my excuse by coming up with one of his own. “Who’s hungry? I’m hungry! Jeremy, let’s get some food for all of us!” Without even asking us what we’d want for dinner, Owen grabs a hold of his best friend and yanks him towards the door and out the store, leaving Charlie and I to our devices. “Will you play it for me now?” he asks, a bit more careful than before as if not wanting to overstep anything. I swallow a nervous lump in my throat before nodding and going to grab my songbook. I place all the loose papers onto the piano and then turn to him. “Grab your guitar,” I order sweetly. The boy obeys and quickly grabs the black Fender from the wall. “Remember what you played the other day when we kind of wrote it together?” He simply nods his head before starting to play the chords he did that first day of writing together. He stands beside me, our shoulders touching, as we look at the song on paper. Then Charlie starts singing, his voice sending shivers throughout my entire body. “Step into my world Bittersweet love story about a girl Shook me to the core Voice like an angel, I've never heard before.” I take a deep breath and start singing my part of the first verse. “Here in front of me Shining so much brighter than I have ever seen Life can be so mean But when he goes I know he doesn't leave” A soft beat and a melody sounds through my mind now, intertwined with the sound of his guitar. Just as our voices intertwine too during the chorus. Like the perfect harmony. “The truth is finally breaking through Two worlds collide when I'm with you Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're” I turn to him, finding myself confident enough not to stare at the papers. “In perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony” Charlie smiles down at me with the brightest smile on his face. He, too, feels confident enough to sing without looking at the lyrics. “You set me free,” he sings, not taking his eyes off me. “You and me together is more than chemistry.” Without realizing it, I take a step closer towards him. “Love me as I am I'll hold your music here inside my hands We say we're friends, we play pretend You're more to me, we're everything Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony” Charlie places his guitar on the piano, letting the melody and rhythm inside our minds guide us instead as we walk around the piano, each in different directions until we’re on opposite sides, looking at each other. “Woah, woah Perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony” I lean forward on the piano as I sing the first line in the bridge. “I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah” Charlie walks the other half of the piano, quickly this time, until he’s reached me. “You are my brightest, burning star, woah-woah” I place my hands on his chest as he inches closer. “I never knew a love so real” “So real,” Charlie echoes, pressing his forehead to mine. “We're heaven on earth, melody and words When we are together we're In perfect harmony” I step back slightly, offering him a teasing smirk more so because I’m not ready for what’s about to happen next. “Woah, woah Perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony” He takes my hand in his and pulls me towards him again. My hands find their way to his chest again while he places his on my waist. “We say we're friends We play pretend You're more to me We create a perfect harmony” The music in our minds has stopped. All that’s left now is our panting breath and beating hearts. Tingles erupt in my body, going from my head all the way down to my toes. I know what’s going to happen and for once, my brain isn’t telling me to pull away or abort the mission. For once, it’s silent. And then Charlie kisses me, and an entire orchestra breaks up the silence in my mind. “I’m seeing fireworks!” Jeremy’s voice makes us break apart, but we don’t go too far. Just our lips disconnect. “Are you seeing fireworks?” Owen nods his head in agreement with his best friend. “Because I’m seeing all the fireworks!” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the dude is high. I shake my head at Jeremy and turn back to Charlie, who’s already looking down at me. This feels right. This feels like how it should be. All the planets aligned. Just perfectly right.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92 @gingerxarmy @marinettepotterandplagg​ @lovesanimals​ Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

[youarejesting]

Limited Edition.5 Phone Home

[FULL MASTERLIST] [Limited Edition Master list]

Beta: N/A Rating: All audiences Genre: Fantasy, Comedy, Fluffy Fluff, Adventure. Pairing: Bts x Friend!Reader Words: 1.3K

Summary: It is your first time buying proper merchandise, there are new chibi figurines and the first person to order will recieve a limited edition set. But what happens when BTS have gone missing without a trace and a few days later you receive your package. The box says congratulations, you open to find your limited edition figures, they look so lifelike. OH WAIT! it’s cause they are.

“Wᴀʜ, ᴄʜᴜʀʀᴏs!” Jungkook shouted and was promptly shushed. With a small smile, you walked into the shop and requested a churro. You heard a tiny, “You didn’t have to, ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ”

“You kidding you guys eat barely anything so I get half a churro”

You bit into the churro and held it near your chest, “I think it will be easier if you all eat it like this”

You moved it around letting everyone have a chance to take a bite and you continued the process and smiled.

Arriving at your destination, you walked through the store with your list, while they were showering you had looked up ingredients to some of the foods they asked for. “Do you need any help?” The store clerk asked politely.

“Yes I was looking for Kimchi please”

“Ah, there is the store’s specialty Kimchi, that we make personally or there is a generic brand Kimchi” He smiled gesturing across the shop. “It is in the fridge along the back wall”

“Thank you so much, sir” You started down the first aisle and whispered “Come out and help me shop okay for ingredients”

They were so happy helping you select all different things and you grew nervous. “Don’t worry, Jin and I will help you make everything?” Yoongi mumbled, laying his face on your chest, “why are you always so warm?”

They purchased snacks and more and you carried the items to the counter, “You seem to be making a lot” He smiled

“Ah, my friends are teaching me how to cook some food?” You blushed “They are really nice guys, they just came over from Korea recently”

The clerk totaled your items and you heard a tiny whine from the pocket of your overalls. You touched it gently trying to reassure the boys and the man smiled catching a glimpse of hair “What do you have in there? Little dolls?”

“Ah, figurines” You smiled “They were gifts from Korea and they are super cute, I just am taking them home”

With your groceries packed into your backpack, you walked back through the shops and grinned humming. You placed the boys back into the basket and began riding back home. Jungkook peeked over the front of the bike and Taehyung and Jimin made sure to hold him secure so he wouldn’t fall out.

“Wᴀʜ, ɪᴛ ɪs sᴏ ғᴀsᴛ” Jungkook turned back to you “Nᴏᴏɴᴀ ɢᴏ Fᴀsᴛᴇʀ!” 

He whooped and you picked up a little speed, not too much you didn’t want to crash and hurt the boys.

Arriving at your home you put your bike out the back and helped the boys inside. You pulled out some containers and plastic bags and started shrinking the portions of meat severely. You brought out the dollhouse and set up the kitchen for Yoongi and Seokjin.

Deciding you would record, with their permission you smiled and set up two cameras and a microphone. You had a camera on a wide shot and they had a close-up camera. You grinned and they began taking you through the cooking tutorial first hand and you followed instructions.

You all had a good laugh and the other boys were eating snacks and sitting at the table off to the side. When it was done you had a delicious meal each, you all ate together and you saved the footage. Taking them all back to the room, you sighed. “It has been a lot of fun, but you can’t stay like this forever. You became like this there has to be a way to get you back, you must know an email or number you could call”

An Idea struck Namjoon and he used your old phone to write an email, “Can I use your phone number?”

“Of course but tell them to face time so they can see the problem,” You said, telling him the numbers slowly.

They sat around when you received a facetime call, Namjoon answered with a grin and stepped back. “Hello, mister Kang, as you can see we are okay but there has been an incident”

“We don’t know how but we were turned into tiny figurines and sent out as the Limited Edition Prize”

“I mean they weren’t wrong you are limited edition” You laughed they all spoke about coming to get the boys after they figure out how to fix them.

“I have to go, Park Jiwon is coming”

“Wait, maybe he could help?” Namjoon said and you raised an eyebrow at mister Kang's odd behavior. 

“He wouldn’t believe you are real, it is such a crazy idea humans shrinking think about it, but I will tell him I have a lead”

“You are right,” Namjoon seemed to agree with him and you opened your mouth to protest when Kang hung up.

“That was weird” you muttered, “Why was he acting so shady?”

“No that’s how he comes across he is actually really nice”

“Okay, but wouldn’t you want to tell everyone so you could figure out how to return you back to normal? I mean if it was me and you called me I would tell all the bosses and maybe even investigate the factory. The last place you guys were scene”

“Yeah, but I think it’s okay trust us”

“I trust you, I don’t trust him. I am sorry” you huffed. 

“Could I have some warm water?” Jimin said 

“Sure” taking the small bottle you took it filling it with warm water and sighed there was something really wrong with that man they called. 

You put the bottle back into place and began searching on forums and editing your cute BTS cooking video which you labeled Tiny Tan. To cover your tracks you said it was a CGI Animation.

When you had done everything you could think of your thumb hovering over the RUN BTS episode you were up to, but you thought it might be a little weird watching them while they were right there.

You heard them chatting, “I can log into my music account and we could practice that way”

“We would need more space?” Yoongi’s drawl said as he leaned out the window looking at the surface area and you picked up the mug and stack of books and moved them aside. 

They reluctantly listened to the tired rapper and stepped out, you blushed. “I can leave you boys alone if you want?” Nervously you scurried across the room grabbing your shoes and stumbling around. “If you need me facetime my number, I will be um… in the kitchen.”

“Wᴀɪᴛ!” Taehyung grinned “Can you tell us what you think?”

“Can you record us?” Jimin said and you nodded, acting very professional. Yoongi pressed a button on your phone and got into position” leaning your face into your palm in a nonchalant gesture when really you were pressing a grin into your palm. 

They were so good like the dance practices and concert videos you had seen but they were up close and dancing just for you. 

If you were to put a frame around them you would definitely believe you were watching a video of them dancing in their practice room; apart from their slightly larger than average heads and the life sized objects in the background. 

You recorded them and tried not to bop as you kept the camera still to capture all of them. They grinned and ended in a cool pose. You continued recording for a few more seconds just in case and they grinned wanting to see. 

“Did we look weird?” Jimin asked curiously, wanting to know if the performance was good.

“No way this is cute.” You smiled “and the choreography was really cool, I could tell I just had to imagine you all in your proper bodies dancing and not your Tiny forms” 

“Yeah, it has less of an impact when we are in this form.” Namjoon frowned and you held your hands out in protest.

“Please don’t beat yourself up, Tiny Tan’s. The army will love it, honestly, you could post this as a dance practice or even make a music video in your tiny house and they would find it so adorable”

“ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ?” Hoseok said, no longer looking disappointed and Jungkook shot up.

“Tʜᴀᴛ's ɪᴛ!” He shouted, “Let’s make a music video. Like this.”

Tags: @victory0461 @gqmf-bangtanmama​​

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[skiedotutoring]

HOW TO BECOME AN ONLINE TUTOR IN 7 EASY STEPS

With technology creeping into almost all aspects of our everyday lives, more people are now taking classes online. The advent of Covid-19 even emphasized the need for virtual classes, and teachers are now harnessing this opportunity to make money from the comforts of their home.

Fortunately, you see yourself as someone with relevant knowledge or skills to do the same. But your problem is, how do you become an online tutor? What are the things you need to do to start teaching online?

The good thing is, you can become an online tutor even when you currently have a regular job.

Whether you’re a teacher or a retired one, a professional in any industry with sought-after skills such as music, or even an undergraduate, becoming an online tutor is an excellent way to make money online simply by sharing knowledge.

This blog post, therefore, discusses the steps you need to take to become an online tutor.

7 STEPS TO BECOMING AN ONLINE TUTOR

Determine what to offer based on your strengths

Knowing where your strength lies is vital to being optimally impactful to your students. You may be knowledgeable in diverse areas, but you want to choose a subject of which you can deliver to your best capacity. This will help you stand out more among other tutors in that given field.

Pro tip: Having a certification on your chosen subject is often required to build credibility, but it’s not a conclusive determinant. You could become an online tutor even while in school or just newly graduated. To start teaching online, what’s essential is that you have the requisite subject knowledge, some level of experience, a passion for learning and imparting knowledge, and a cordial, professional attitude.

Know your target audience

Perhaps, you’ve chosen to teach math or guitar online. The next step to becoming an online tutor is identifying your potential students and the challenges they face in that subject matter.

So you want to ask yourself the following questions:

Who is my target audience?

What are their needs?

How do I persuade them to choose me as their teacher amidst the competition?

How do I express myself as an expert in this given field?

Choose an online tutoring platform

You may be tempted to create your own website as an online tutor, but it’s far easier to sign up on an online tutoring marketplace like Skiedo.

At Skiedo, you can become an online tutor with or without any certification, as long as your knowledge can be an asset to someone else. Sign up for free, design your course according to your schedule, set your own price, and get paid 100% of the fees due to you.

Interestingly, Skiedo has a live video chat feature in addition to text messaging. With the video chat, you can discuss with your students face-to-face, get a more personable experience, understand their needs, and hold your online classes.

With Skiedo becoming an online tutor is fast and easy, and registration is free! You can register right away and become an online tutor in minutes by login to skiedo.com and following the instructions below:

Click on Become a Tutor. On the drop-down menu that appears, click Register.

A page will open where you get to type in your name, email, and password. Read Skiedo's Terms & Conditions, Agree, and then click Next.

You will then receive a verification email to verify your email ID.

Once verified, you can log in back by entering your email ID and password. Then click LOGIN.

Now you need to fill in your basic information on the page that opens. Kindly fill in the data at your convenience and to your best knowledge.

Click Next and select the subjects you wish to teach. You can choose multiple subjects but are not advised to choose more than three subjects in which you're best versed.

Once you're done filling your subjects, complete inputting your information and ensure all fields have been filled. Kindly select your hourly rate as well. Then click Next.

Time to personalize your profile. It's always best to use a smiling picture to express friendliness to your students. On creating your profile, click Next.

You will then arrive at the Terms & Conditions Page. If you've read it, click Accept,  which then takes you to your tutor profile. Here you will find all your information. You can edit and update at your convenience. Also, include your bank details where you'll receive your payments.

Add your 'slots of booking,' which tells students about your availability. Each slot should be an hour each.

If the subject you wish to offer is not on the list of subjects, you can 'suggest' a subject by clicking on the left bar of 'teaching subjects'.

Once you Register, your profile will appear when students search. When they book the class, you will receive a notification to approve the class. It's best to do so as soon as possible.

Once you've accepted the booking, you need to Initiate the Class on your dashboard on 'My Schedule'.

Once a class is finished, click Complete the Class.

You can also watch the video on how to become a tutor on Skiedo here.

Get your technical requirements set

As an online tutor, you will conduct your classes on a computer via the Internet. Hence, you need the following technical requirements to ensure you and your students don’t suffer glitches in the middle of an exciting course:

A fast and reliable computer: Although you may already have a computer, ensure it has at least a 1 GHz processor and 2 GB of ram for optimal speed. Skiedo works on Windows, Android, and Ios, so you can easily download the app. If you're using a web browser, however, ensure it's up-to-date.

High-speed Internet of at least 1 Mbps: You do not want your video conversation cutting off every minute. To know if your Internet connection is up to speed, go to www.speedtest.net.

HD Webcam: Being able to hear each other is great, but seeing each other brings that deep human connection that creates a whole new experience. Fortunately, Skiedo comes with a video chat feature. To get an optimal experience, ensure your webcam is HD. If yours is of a lower quality, purchase and install a better one.

The following are not mandatory but can give you a better experience:

Microphone: This is most especially important for music classes. However, if you want your students to hear you more efficiently, you'd need to get one if your in-built microphone isn't that great. Plug it into the microphone slot in your computer and set it up just beside the computer, with the mouthpiece close to your face. Blue Microphone Yeti and Rode NTK are some of the best microphones for online classes.

Headphones

Whiteboards.

Set up your course outline

As an online tutor, your course shouldn’t be bland. Ensure you design your course to be engaging and different from those of your competitors.

Additionally, structure the outline and direction of the lesson based on the subject matter, number of students in the session, and how much you want them to gain during the course. If it would be best to teach students individually, then do so.

Depending on the niche you’re into, you can also create written materials to back up the live video session.

And most importantly, it’s always a great idea to include interactive and gaming sessions to keep your students engaged. This fun environment helps to build a personal connection with them (many students complain of lack of personal connection in virtual learning).

Spice up your online course with quizzes, instructive videos, and other interactive activities. Make your learning more engaging, and users will rush to become your students.

Set your price and payment system

Setting an hourly rate is often a daunting task for online tutors. You may not want to set a price that looks too high, neither do you want to charge something unworthy. One way to go is to browse through other tutors in your chosen field. Notably, online tutors can charge anything between $20 and $100 per hour, depending on the course.

On fixing your price, you should then decide how you wish for students to make payments. PayPal, Google Pay, and Payoneer are some fast, reliable methods.

But Skiedo makes it so much easier. On Skiedo, you can enter your bank details and get your fees straight into your bank account.

Time to have your first class!

You’ve covered virtually all you need to do in your journey to becoming an online tutor. Now for the exciting part: your first class!

You will most likely have some worries and may even feel nervous, but preparation is key!

Have a game plan ready. It’s helpful to write out your introduction and the order of things for that particular session so that you always know what to do or say.

As you have your technical requirements all sorted out, you also need to make sure your students have theirs. Ask questions to know if their system is up to speed and what learning pattern they’re most comfortable with. It’s also a great idea to prepare a written material for your students to go through before the first class.

Putting your students on the same page with you is imperative for success as an online tutor.

If you feel nervous, rehearse with a friend or family member. This can help put you at ease before the actual class.

Pro tip: Be flexible. As an online tutor, you must be flexible. Your students may live in another time zone entirely, so you want to be available when you’re needed.

📷

CONCLUSION

Now you know the steps to take to become an online tutor and start teaching online. It’s time to take action and start. As you move on, you will find your teaching skills getting sharpened.

Teaching online is an incredible way for you to make extra money doing the things you love. Take charge of this digital learning revolution, and the sky’s your limit.

[woodstockbtswriter]

Voyagers

Genre: Fluff/Headcanon

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (Female)

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join BTS on a Bon Voyage adventure leads to once-in-a-lifetime love.

Author’s Note: Please note that my drabble Happiness fits into this part, and I’ve added a link where it should be read. Also, I’ve worked really hard to make this installment the best that it can be because - ready or not - this is the penultimate chapter! All that’s left is an epilogue! So please, please enjoy, and we’ll see you next time for the finale! 💕

GIF Credit: MONOSUGA

Masterlist

Part Twenty

Outro Interviews

When dinner was winding down, the production crew pulled Yoongi out onto the deck to film his closing interview

You started helping to clear the table, but the other boys insisted they could take care of it, and told you to go relax

Grateful for the opportunity to rest, you headed toward the living room couch, but stopped when you spied Yoongi through the windows

The outdoor scene behind him was completely black now, and he was sitting in front of a camera with several spotlights trained on him

You could tell he was talking to the camera, answering a question, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying

Your curiosity winning out, you stepped through the glass doors out onto the patio, and stood behind the cameramen

You overheard a producer ask Yoongi what was his favorite memory from the trip, and he caught sight of you while he was thinking of a reply

The corner of his mouth lifting, he looked back at the camera and said he enjoyed the helicopter ride, but the nights you camped out were his favorite

Especially the second night, he added, his eyes flicking towards you

You hugged your shoulders as you stood in the cool night air, self-consciously covering your blossoming smile as you recalled how Yoongi first kissed you that night

The producer then asked Yoongi about a time when he felt bad or disappointed

Yoongi’s half-smile faded, and again he glanced at you before answering

He was a little disappointed he didn’t try the Nevis swing, he admitted

He felt bad that Namjoon had to go twice, first with you, then with Taehyung

Hearing Yoongi’s response, you considered how things might have been different if he had been your swing partner instead of Namjoon

And you felt a little disappointed too

But you quickly pushed the regret from your mind and listened as the producer recited another question

“What are your feelings about this trip?” He asked

There were many things that took his breath away, Yoongi replied

At times he was very moved - and he doesn’t get moved easily, he reminded

It had been a season of healing and relaxation, Yoongi continued, and his favorite season of Bon Voyage

Then Yoongi paused, puffing his cheeks as he chose his next words

“I was able to open myself up,” He said, his eyes lifting to meet yours, “And I found more happiness than I ever expected.”

A few of the crewmen followed Yoongi’s gaze to see you standing behind them, and you ducked your head shyly

The producer conducting the interview didn’t seem to notice, though

Or maybe he did

Because his next question was about you

“What was it like having an ARMY join you? How do you feel about her after this trip?” He asked Yoongi

You held your breath, suddenly anxious

You realized the producer likely posed the same question to all the boys and he probably wasn’t trying to pry

Even so, it felt like a personal question

And you wondered how Yoongi would handle it

But he seemed altogether unbothered as he formulated a response

You’re very caring, and always looking out for others, Yoongi said breezily

He thought other ARMYs would appreciate experiencing the show through you and that they would find you likeable

He also said that he knew all the members enjoyed having you, and you would remain their close friend

You appreciated his kind observations, but you were waiting for him to address the part about his feelings

The producer apparently had the same thought, and he repeated the question, emphasizing the word “you”

Yoongi looked to you, unsure, and you nodded encouragingly

“We have a lot in common and we get along well,” He finally shrugged, sucking in air through his teeth

“I like how I am around her. She gives me… hope.”

His body language was nonchalant, but you could see the affection in his eyes

And it sent a thrill through you

To your relief, the producer seemed satisfied with Yoongi’s answer

And none the wiser about the true feelings behind it

With a nod and a thank you, he wrapped up the interview with Yoongi and looked around until he found you

He motioned for you to take a seat in front of the camera, and you understood that it was your turn to film an outro

Complying, you moved past Yoongi towards the chair he just vacated

As you brushed by each other, your eyes met and a silent reassurance passed between you

You then sat beneath the warm lights, and took a deep breath

You were a little nervous

You’d gotten fairly used to the cameras this week, but it was easier to ignore them when you weren’t staring straight into the lens under the glare of a spotlight

But you could see Yoongi standing behind the crew, and the soft expression he wore as he watched you calmed your nerves

So you kept your focus on him as the producer asked you all the same questions he’d asked him

And you answered each one from your heart

“What was your favorite memory from the trip?”

Watching the sunset from high atop the mountains, outside the observatory on the second night

“When was a time when you felt bad or disappointed?”

Any time wasted not taking full advantage of your time with the boys

“What are your feelings about this trip?”

You were able to experience so many new things, and you’ll be forever grateful for the opportunity

“What was it like traveling with BTS?”

So much fun, and surprisingly comfortable; the boys always made you feel welcome and included

“How do you feel about the members after this trip?”

The members are even sweeter - and funnier - than they seem, and you’re honored to call them friends

The more you spoke, the more relaxed you felt

And Yoongi’s faint smile continued to put you even more at ease

You felt like the interview went well and that you were about done

But then the producer asked a question that caught you off guard

“You said at the beginning of filming that Suga is your bias, and you’ve spent a lot of time with him this week. How do you feel about him now?”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at the producer, heat flooding your cheeks

He didn’t really expect you to confess, on camera and in front of the whole production team, did he?

The producer’s expression seemed innocent enough

Maybe he wasn’t implying anything

Maybe he just wanted you to say something sweet and generic about your bias, something along the lines of “he’s great,” “he’s still my favorite,” and “I like him even more now”

So that’s what you said

But as you looked back up and found Yoongi still standing among the crew, you knew it wasn’t the whole truth

You didn’t just like him

You loved him

You knew as the crew, the cameras, the microphones, the lights, and everything seemed to fade away as you looked at each other

You knew as you felt the warmth radiating from him as his soft smile reached his eyes

With all your heart, you knew

You loved him

You loved Min Yoongi

The producer cleared his throat, and you realized you’d been staring past him, unblinking and unbreathing

You brought your focus back to the interview, inhaling deeply, then exhaling slowly

The producer waited to see if you had anything to add

And you decided you did have one more thing you wanted to say

“Yoongi has a special place in my heart.” You breathed

And you hoped he - and no one else - understood what you truly meant

BTS UNO - Round Two

At the conclusion of your interview, the camera crew wrapped, quickly packing their equipment and heading out for the night

You heaved a relieved sigh as they left, and you and Yoongi joined the boys back at the dining table for a card game

As everyone agreed on another round of UNO, Yoongi noticed that someone was missing, and called out across the house for Taehyung to come

Taehyung innocently looked up from his seat on Yoongi’s other side, and the rest of the boys burst out laughing when Yoongi realized his mistake

You took Yoongi’s hand under the table to comfort him, but you couldn’t help but laugh, too

You knew exactly how tired he was (you were exhausted too, for the same reason), but his sheepish expression was too adorable

Then Taehyung and Yoongi both called for Jungkook, and when he appeared a few moments later, Taehyung dealt out the UNO cards

As you examined your hand, Namjoon asked if you were going to make another bet this game

Hoseok suggested the loser buy dinner for all 8 of you, and everyone agreed

But as play started and Jimin laid his first card down, he took it a step further, saying he’d buy dinner twice if he lost

Not to be outdone, Taehyung said he’d been studying the rules and if he lost, he’d buy dinner 3 times

The others noisily accepted the raised stakes, and the game continued

Though it was getting late, you were all energetic as you played, joking and teasing and laughing

As you took turns putting cards down, one of the boys started an acoustic beat and everyone joined in, chanting um-ch um-ch um-ch for several rounds

After a solid hour with no winners, you began to wonder if the game would ever end

The deck had been reshuffled a dozen times and despite several of you calling UNO, no one went out

Until finally, Jungkook laid down his last card, and immediately scampered off to bed

After that, the rest of you promptly followed suit, each of you emptying your hands until only Yoongi and Jimin were left

They went back and forth for a few minutes, until Jimin made it down to 1 card and he stood up on his chair, sure he was about to win

Then Yoongi put down a +4, and several of you exclaimed in surprise

But Jimin was unfazed, and threw down his last card with a triumphant shout

As he went wild and the other boys congratulated him, Yoongi stared at the stack of cards on the table in disbelief

And so did you

Jimin had thrown a wild card, but as you’d proven last night, stacking cards was against the rules and he should have drawn 4 and lost his turn

Raising your voice to be heard over the din, you called Jimin out, telling him he didn’t win after all

Jimin froze, his mouth falling open, and Yoongi’s arms shot into the air as he shrieked in excitement

He then played his last two cards in rapid succession (another +4 and a wild) and stole the victory from an astonished Jimin

The other boys were equally amazed, and as they shouted, clapped, and laughed, Yoongi gave you the gummiest smile

He clasped your hand tightly in his lap, thanking you, and you smiled back just as brightly

Everyone was eager to head to bed when the game was finished, so they dispersed quickly, pulling off their microphones as they went

But only you and Yoongi knew your reason for being eager had nothing to do with sleep

Yoongi walked with you down the hallway, and when you stopped in front of your door, he leaned in

He whispered by your ear, saying he’d be back as soon as the other boys were in bed, and his lips grazed your skin, sending a shiver through you

You nodded as he stepped back, and you exchanged small smiles as he continued down the hall to his own room

Your exhaustion replaced by anticipation, you slipped into your room and immediately made sure the camera was off

You’d been looking forward to this all day

And though you hurried to complete your bedtime routine, you had every hope that you wouldn’t be going sleep anytime soon

Happiness

Last Night in NZ

You and Yoongi spent the next several hours together much as you did the night before

You spoke quietly, about anything and everything

You kissed frequently, but without any urgency

And you both grew sleepier and sleepier

But you never let go of each other

If anything, you pulled each other closer the longer you laid together

Physically and emotionally

Until finally, you couldn’t keep your eyes open a millisecond longer

You only meant to close them for a moment, but when you opened them again, bright light was shining in around the edges of the curtains

And Yoongi was snoring quietly behind you, his arm tight around your waist and his chest pressed against your back

You grabbed your phone to check the time, instantly wide awake

It was still early

If you acted fast, Yoongi could still sneak back to his room without anyone noticing

You turned over and touched his cheek, saying his name

And you tried not to get distracted by how ridiculously adorable he looked while asleep

He opened one eye, then quickly closed it, groaning at the light

It was morning, you explained, telling him you both fell asleep

Yoongi rolled to his back, rubbing his face and swearing under his breath

But then he replaced his arms around you, and reminded you that filming wrapped the night before

You hadn’t forgotten, but you also knew the crew would be back soon to pack up all the GoPro cameras before everyone headed to the airport in a few hours

When you brought this to his attention, Yoongi opened both of his eyes and stared at the ceiling before conceding that you were right

With a heavy sigh, he sat up and ruffled his hair, then looked to you with a pout

Your heart melted at the sight

You could tell he was reluctant to leave the bed, and you knew it was not because he was tired

You felt the same way

But it would be okay, you assured him

You had time

And as soon as you rebooked your flight…

You’d have even more

Previous - Next

Taglist: @bucky-thorin-winchester @yvemoon @serpentiinequeen @neilpoetssociety @narcissism-iskey @kaitswrld

[breanime]

Dynamite (Part Three)

*cover by @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown​*

Part Three: Ain’t No Way

“So…” Mike’s fingers drummed against the wheel. “…explain to me how you know this woman again?”

Johnny sighed. He was standing next to the driver’s side of the van, securing his guns and knives on his body underneath his clothes. “She was my first love. I thought… maybe…we’d get married some day.”

“Hm… Right… Okay, so now explain to me how this is a good idea?” Mike said back.

“Look, Mikey,” Charlies’ voice sounded through the radio, and Mike lifted it so Johnny could hear it better, “Galindo is looking for a bodyguard for his wife, and this is an excellent way to get eyes on him.”

“I agree,” Mike said, frowning, “But I still don’t see why that has to be John…” He glanced over at Johnny. “No offense.”

“Some taken, Mikey,” Johnny quipped back, “actually—a lot taken. Actually, fuck you, Mikey.”

“I just…” Mike lowered his voice, leaning his head out of the window. “… I don’t know if this is a good idea, Johnny… This isn’t just some random asset, you knew this girl… Had feelings for her.”

“Yeah,” Johnny grunted back, “I’m aware.”

“We needed a fluent Spanish speaker with a military background,” Briggs said over the radio, already anticipating Mike’s hesitation, “Plus, his connection to the asset can be used to his advantage, Agent Warren.” He didn’t add how he thought this could be good for Johnny.

“But what if she makes him?” Mike asked back.

“She won’t,” Johnny replied easily. He was sure of that.

“This is a smooth op,” Briggs added, “Mike is outside the McMansion, Charlie and I are a few miles away, Paige is working surveillance…if we lose Johnny on the watch, we’ll swoop in.”

“You do have your watch, don’t you, Johnny?” Charlie asked. The watch, of course, was a small microphone; if things got hot or Johnny needed help, all he had to do was click a button on the watch, and the team would come to his recuse. And if/when everything went smoothly, they’d have some audio of Miguel Galindo that could be useful once they made the arrest.

Johnny held it up, flashing it to Mike. “Yup.”

“Watch confirmed,” Mike said into the radio, “also, Johnny is glowing right now,” he grinned.

Briggs laughed, and Charlie chuckled on the other side of the radio as Johnny flicked Mike off. “I’m always glowing,” he said back, “Look at me, Mikey; I’m a stallion.”

“Alright, well, time to saddle up, Ponyboy,” Paige said into the radio, “Galindo is pulling up now. It’s showtime.”

Thirty minutes later, Johnny was being escorted into the Galindo home by a serious looking guy with braids. The guy had patted him down, taking (most of) his weapons before leading him through the house. Johnny followed the guy into the living room, marveling silently at the house—Briggs hadn’t been wrong when he called it a McMansion. Johnny was led to the living room, where Mr. and Mrs. Galindo were waiting for him, and wow…

…You were even more beautiful than he’d remembered.

You were dressed in all white, the cloth hugging your curves perfectly, accentuating that shape that he so adored, dripping in expensive jewelry—including the fucking rock that was your wedding ring.

You watched Miguel greet Johnny with a handshake, and you pinched your palm, reminding yourself to act like this was just any other day, and Johnny was just any other applicant. He looked so good, his face more mature and filled out, his body clearly in pristine shape… God, your heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute as so many familiar feelings flooded back to you.

“And this is my wife,” Miguel said, holding his hand out to you.

You stepped up and clasped hands with Johnny. His eyes were devouring you, and you wondered what he was thinking. As soon as your hand touched his, you felt a fire ignite inside of you. You were in front of him again, you were with him again; Johnny Tuturro, your first love…

Except this wasn’t really him. It was his face and body, but you reminded yourself that he was going by a different name. He was Johnny Serrano right now, and you needed to figure out why. You assumed he was working for one of Miguel’s many enemies, but the question was: which one? And even though he was surely there as a threat toy our husband, damn if you weren’t happy to see him.

Johnny stepped back from you, his heart doing flips in his chest. He wanted to grab you and hold you to him, wanted to ask you what in the whole hell you were doing with a fucking cartel leader, but he stayed put. He had a job to do. When he’d first learned the love of his life was married to a violent criminal, he’d been shocked, but the shock had quickly turned to a burning determination. He had to stay focused on the job. The Bureau had sent him with an objective: collect intel on Miguel Galindo’s illegal activities and shut him down. Johnny, however, had his own agenda: YOU.

“So, Mr. Serrano,” Miguel said, “have a seat.”

Johnny sat down across from you and your husband, making an effort to keep his eyes on Miguel and not you. Miguel’s friend with the braids was standing behind him, observing silently. Miguel asked Johnny questions about his military background, laughing at Johnny’s cocky answer of “it’s classified”. They discussed hours and expectations and Johnny’s credentials (most of which were true), before Miguel turned to you.

“What do you think, mi amor?”

Johnny almost cringed at the name—and he noticed you winced at well. “He’s impressive,” you said, your voice measured, “at least on paper.”

“I guarantee you that my resumé doesn’t do me justice, Mrs. Galindo,” he said back.

Miguel laughed. “I like the confidence,” he said, sitting back with his arm around your shoulders, “But let’s see those skills you learned from the Navy… Nestor.”

Nestor—the guy with the braids—walked over and took out a gun, pointing it down at Johnny. Johnny looked over at Miguel with an eyebrow raised.

Miguel’s dark eyes were watching him closely, and so were you. “Disarm him.”

You held your breath, unsure of what Miguel’s plan was, heart pounding.

Johnny stood up, and in a flash, he had the gun in his hands, had ejected the clip, popped the bullet in the chamber, and had it pressed against Nestor’s forehead, right between the eyes. Nestor’s eyes were wide, and Miguel smirked, clearly impressed.

You, however, were turned on.

Miguel stood up, taking your hand and helping you to your feet. “I’ve never seen Nestor disarmed before,” he said, grinning, “Very impressive, Mr. Serrano… Come, follow me.”

Miguel lead your small group down to the basement, where he essentially had a gun range set up. He turned to Johnny, nodding with his head to Nestor. Nestor produced another gun and handed it over to Johnny. “Hit the targets,” Miguel ordered.

Johnny glanced over at you; you looked so good, but so wrong next to Miguel. He took a breath, turning to the targets. He lifted the gun, feeling the weight of it—it had a full clip, he could tell. He closed his right eye and aimed.

You watched, mesmerized, as Johnny hit every target, tagging all the hot spots: middle of the head, heart, lungs, throat, in just a matter of seconds. You’d always known Johnny was an athlete, but you’d never seen him like this before. He used up all of the rounds, tucking the gun in his waistband before he reached down, pulled a knife that he’d had strapped to his ankle, and tossed it clear across the room, hitting a dummy right between he eyes, making you gasp.

Miguel quirked an eyebrow at you before turning his gaze to Nestor. “How’d you miss that?” He asked, referring to the knife.

Nestor opened his mouth, and you could see the embarrassment in his eyes.

Johnny stepped up, handing Nestor his empty gun back. “Don’t sweat it, homie,” he said causally, “Hiding weapons on your person is just one of the many skills I acquired during my time as a SEAL.”

Miguel chuckled, his hand on your waist as he moved forward, leading you all back upstairs. He praised Johnny as you walked, and you felt a strange burst of pride as your husband gushed about your ex-boyfriend coupled with a sense of disgust. Miguel was never supposed to be around Johnny. Johnny was the sun, and Miguel was the moon. Seeing them together, your source of light and the darkness that was your husband, was unsettling—even more so because you still didn’t know Johnny’s intentions. “So,” Miguel turned to you before looking back at Johnny, “we should be in touch to—”

“—You start tomorrow,” you declared, trying to keep your expression somewhere between bored and decided.

Miguel’s jaw twitched. “My love… He’s good, but we still have two other applicants…”

“It’s my bodyguard, right?” You said back, standing on the little bit of dignity you had as Miguel’s wife. “My decision. I don’t want to waste any more time with interviews and resumés.” You looked over at Johnny. “This guy can have the job. Does that work for you, Mr…?”

Johnny bit back a grin. “Serrano,” he finished for you, “That works fine for me, Mrs. Galindo.”

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Everything Taglist: @sweetybuzz25  @mrsjaxtellerfan  @rhabakoli  @encounterthepast @realduckvader   @justvnash @knowles-morgan  @ateliefloresdaprimavera @evanlys19  @nyxxnoxx @carlaangel86  @luminex3 @jigsawlover10  @gollyderek @otomefromtheheart @lexxierave @crushed-pink-petals @amethyst09 @falsehopesndreams  @a-dorky-book-keeper @witchygagirl @glimmerglittergirl @nich0lasmatthews @ben-c-group-therapy @felicity-x0 @amirra88 @yourfellowangel @vibranium-soul​ @xserenax-13  @whoaitslucyy-blog  @gemini0410 @ktiz90​ @theoceanhathsolace​ @starrynite7114​

Johnny Tuturro Taglist: @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored​  @jamielennkeeler​ @honeym-daddi​ @missjessie21 @tashawar​  @smoooore​​ @texasbama​​ @chaotic-rayofsunshine​ @uhlxis​

[authorized-trash]

To Tie a Knot: Chapter 6: What Do You Mean The Hotel Room Only Has One Bed?

Ao3

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Content Warnings:

Self deprecation, elusion to character death, a character assumes another character is dead, tell me if i need to add more

Chapter Summary:

God, Damian is so GAY

Word Count:

2,700+

Note:

What is that saying? Calm before the storm? Because that would be an accurate description of this chapter.

-

-

Rain began to pitter-patter on the windowsill. The crystal drops dripped down the glass, seemingly racing as they ran into each other, marking patterns as they went.

A flash of lightning followed by thunder rocked the coffee shop, lighting up the inside with a bright white light. The customers continued chatting, unbothered. One lonely college student looked out the window with longing, watching the outside world grow damp.

A draft from a cracked-open door caused a few of the hanging plants to sway, and one couple got up and moved to a different table due to the rain beginning to get in and making wet spots on their jackets.

A booth in the far back corner held a man dressed semi-formally, his hands hidden inside yellow gloves. His light hazel eyes would normally be hidden behind the brim of his hat, but as of now they were wide, staring in shock at another man who had approached the table with his friend.

The barista washed the front counter, looking outside to see no one approaching the small, family owned coffee shop. They walked to the back, near the kitchen. It was, again, a very small establishment, so they were the only one working. It was growing kind of late now and business was slowing.

The barista took out their phone, and dialed their brother, thinking now would be an alright chance to check in.

The phone rang for a few seconds, and just as they were going to hang up and try again later, their brother picked up.

“Hey Elliot,” their brother greeted, and the barista, Elliot, smiled.

“Wassup Virge, just thought I’d check in and say hi, it’s been a few days.”

“So it has. I’m doing fine, as usual. Some weird… uh… stuff as happened, but other than that I’m as dandy as a dandelion.”

Elliot laughed, shaking their head, “Uh huh, and when have you ever said anything like ‘dandy as a dandelion’? Seriously Virgil, what’s up? What happened?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“I have another soulmate.”

Elliot gave a long and low whistle, “Another? How does that even work?”

“Who knows, a new string just appeared the other day, we sent Logan to go and find them, haven’t heard any news yet.”

“That’s rough buddy,” Elliot said. Virgil laughed loudly.

“Yeah well, we’re expecting a call from Logan soon.”

“So wait, a whole ‘nother string just appeared out of nowhere, twenty years into your life?”

“Uh huh. We’re all in this state of shock, I guess.”

“I would be. Well, it seems like you got your hands full, then. I’ll get off here and leave you and your boyfriends to it. Oh! Wait, by the way, have you done it yet?”

“It?”

“Yeah, you know, the thing. With the rings.”

“Uh, no, not yet. We just got a new soulmate, it’s safe to say I’m holding off for awhile,” Virgil gave an awkward laugh on the other side of the line.

“Ha, yeah that would make sense. So wh-” Elliot was cut off by a ding from the register, and quickly said into the phone, “Oh hold on Virge, I got a customer. I lied, stay there, I’m not hanging up yet.”

Their brother laughed nervously, but said okay and stayed on the line.

Elliot took the person’s order. It was a sweet looking little old lady. She nodded as she took her drink, before slowly making her way back to a seat.

Elliot raised the phone back up to their ear, but paused before saying anything.

“Hey, Virgil?” They asked, bewildered.

“What? You getting robbed or something?”

“Uhm no, Logan is here.”

“Wait really? What is he doing? Wait no, don't answer that I sound like a stalker.”

Elliot laughed, “He’s talking to another customer. Huh, I don’t see the sunglasses guy from earlier, it’s just them.”

“Another customer? Logan doesn’t talk to people, what does this person look like?” Virgil was sounding a little frantic. There was what sounded like a scuffle over the line, and suddenly there was another voice.

“You have found my beloved!” Shouted Roman into the phone, peaking the microphone and causing Elliot to take the phone away from their ear a bit.

“Yeah it’s definitely Logan. The other person- uh, I assume they’re male but I’m not taking any chances, looks pretty put together. Hat, gloves, oh! And they have a scar on the left side of their face.”

“And what does Logan look like?” Said a third voice, and Elliot knew this was Patton.

“Like Logan.”

“No you piece of shit, what is he doing?” Virgil snapped, and Elliot smirked at pissing their brother off.

“He looks… pretty smitten, actually.”

“It’s them! He found them!” There was a loud thump.

“Roman! Jesus, you didn’t need to eject yourself from the couch!” Patton exclaimed, and Elliot assumed he had jumped down to help his soulmate.

“Should I go talk to them?” Elliot asked, a little confused about what he should do at this point.

“Just finish your shift and let them talk, we’ll meet them soon enough it sounds like,” Virgil’s voice caught, and Elliot got the impression that he was excited.

“Alright, should I leave you guys to freak out in peace? I got more customers coming in and don’t feel like being fired for being on my phone too long.”

“Yeah alright, fine, bye,” Virgil hung up abruptly, and Elliot shook their head fondly, expecting no less of his sibling.

They looked up at Logan who was still chatting with what seemed to be their new soulmate, and smiled.

He was happy for them.

-

Damian was sure he had stars in his eyes as he stared into the other man’s blue eyes. He was gorgeous. He was tall, lean, and had a smattering of freckles across pale skin. His hair was a dusty blonde, and sharp, square glasses sat on his nose. As cliche as it was, Damian found himself lost in his eyes, a pretty crystalline blue behind thick lashes.

Remy cleared his throat, giving Damian a pointed look.

Damian gave a bright smile, fighting the urge to run, and stood up. He stretched out his hand to shake the other man’s.

“Hello, my name is Damian J. Lyer, and yours is?” He asked coolly with a flourish of his hand. The other man took it, nodding as he greeted him back.

“Logan Barry, pleased to meet you. Really pleased, in fact.”

Damian gestured for Logan to sit across from him, just as Remy took a few steps back.

“You know what? I’m going to go sit in the car and talk to my own babe, you lovebirds have fun,” Remy said as he turned and left, taking his too-sweet coffee with him.

Damian gulped as he watched him go, turning back to face Logan.

“Well, Logan, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? A few moments ago all I knew was your fatestring was the loveliest shade of indigo,” Damian said as he gave a wink, clasping his hands together on the table.

Logan’s face heated up, “Yes of course. I attend college at a town close to here, where I live with my- er- our three other soulmates.”

“Uh huh, and what are their names? Surely they’re just as pretty to the ear as ‘Logan’,” Damian decided he wasn’t going to think too hard about Logan referring to his soulmates as his as well, he wasn’t quite ready to face that truth yet.

“Oh, they are. Patton, Roman, and Virgil, all male,” Logan responded, ignoring the fact that he seemed to turn another shade of darker red at the compliments.

Damian nodded, his little gay heart pounding. All male, awesome. That was- wow, his brain was short circuiting. He had always hoped his soulmate would be male, and it looked like he hit the jackpot.

That awful gnawing feeling of guilt began to chew at his stomach again. 

Look at him, talking with a replacement soulmate. His original soulmate was probably looking down on him, angry. Perhaps sad. Disappointed. Disgus-

“Are you alright?” Logan asked, moving to place a hand on top of Damian’s. Damian’s face immediately flushed a deep crimson, and they both paused to stay at their hands for a second, before both of them took them off the table and placed them in their laps.

“Of course, what gave you the idea that I wasn’t?” Damian asked, giving another dashing smile to hide his growing pain.

“You were looking off into nothing, I grew worried, and therefore asked if there was an issue.”

“Nope,” Damian responded, perhaps a bit too fast and high, “Why don’t you tell me more about your soulmates?”

Logan frowned, “Ours,” he corrected, before continuing all the same, “And alright. Patton is a baker, very soft and sweet. Roman is an actor, loud, dramatic, and infuriating. He is very fun to argue with. In a healthy way, of course.”

“Of course,” Damian repeated, nodding. He completely understood the whole ‘fun to argue with in a healthy way’ kind of thing, he and Remy did it all the time.

“Finally, there is Virgil. He’s quiet, keeps to himself a lot of the time. Roman describes him as “ridiculously emo.””

Fuck, a theatre kid, a nerd, a kind baker, and an emo? Oh ho ho, Damian’s head was spinning, they were checking all of his standards boxes, shit.

“They sound exquisite,” Damian responded, smiling softly. Logan nodded.

“They really are. They are excited to meet you, you know.”

“Really?” Damian said, eyes brightening a bit, “I thought you- you know what? Nevermind.”

“No, don’t cut yourself off, you thought what?” Logan sat forward in his seat, suddenly appearing worried.

Damian slumped, “Well, I thought you wouldn’t like me… intruding, on your relationship.”

Logan looked at Damian. Really looked. He observed his posture, the way his hands seemed to tremble ever so slightly, and the way he was avoiding eye contact. He looked at him, and saw past the facade of a man who was confident in himself.

He saw how small Damian looked just then, curling in on himself. A swell of emotion (ugh) welled up in his chest, and right then and there he swore to himself that he would protect this man for the rest of his life.

“No, Damian. I must admit we were all taken by surprise when the string appeared a few days ago, however, it never even crossed our minds that you were an intruder. We aren’t looking at it like you’re intruding, but being added,” Logan assured him, his voice soft. Damian looked at him with glassy eyes and sniffed, giving an attempt at a smile.

“You’re cute when you’re not so serious,” Damian responded. Logan sat back in his seat and straightened his tie.

“I am not cute, and I am always serious, I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Damian laughed, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Uh huh, sure Specs,” he said, snickering behind his hand. He wiped his eyes with a gloved hand, clearing away the tears that were both from near crying and laughter. 

“Thanks, by the way, I needed to hear that,” he added under his breath. The affirmation helped clear his thoughts a little, but the gnawing guilt was still there and still present, if a little lessened. If only Logan could say something that would make him feel less awful about replacing his last soulmate.

Logan inclined his head in response.

“Well, Damian, it is getting late. I must ask if you would like to come with me to meet with our soulmates.”

Damian felt a swell of anticipation, “Why not?” He replied.

A loud crack of thunder shook the little coffee shop.

Logan blinked, a bit startled. He fixed his glasses.

“It seems that it will be storming most of the night. I did book a room at a hotel nearby to stay in, if you would like to accompany me there.”

Damian nodded perhaps a bit too quickly. He stood up from the booth, heading towards the door.

“Yeah, let me just go tell Remy I’ll be going with you tonight.”

He went outside, wincing as the cold rain hit him. He half jogged out to Remy’s car, sliding into the passenger seat. Remy looked up from his phone.

“How’d it go? You seem to be in a hurry, babes.”

“I’m leaving with him.”

“You’re what?!”

“I’m leaving. With him.” Damian repeated, breathless as he leaned his head against the passenger seat.

“Isn’t it a little early to like… ya know, ‘do the do’? You met him twenty minutes ago babes. Like, no judgement, but I thought you were-”

Remy shut up as Damian smacked him in the back of the head.

“No you bird brain. I’m going with him to meet the others.”

“Oh. Oh shit! Fucking get some DJ, I’m proud of you. Now get out of my car and go meet the loves of your life.”

Damian nodded and left the car, ignoring how that comment made him feel like dirt as he closed the car door.

The ride to the hotel was not even fifteen minutes. The silence was right on that line of comfortable and awkward. Logan had asked if Damian listened to music in the car, and Damian shook his head no.

“Sometimes, but normally only when I’m going to be in a car for longer than thirteen minutes.”

Logan chuckled, “Well, I can’t be in a car for three minutes with Roman before he has some Disney song playing as loud as possible, belting out the lyrics.”

“I take it he’s good at singing?”

“Oh, he’s the best,” Logan said, passionately, “He could outshine most broadway stars in my opinion.”

Damian nodded, falling silent. 

That was the last thing said before they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel building.

Logan signed it at the front desk, and Damian just followed him. They took the stairs to their room, Damian didn’t have anything to carry and Logan simply had a backpack with him.

It wasn’t until they had made it to their room that Logan seemed to remember one small, minor detail.

“There’s only one bed.”

Damian barked out a laugh, “You’re kidding, right?” He had read his fair share of fanfiction in his life, he knew where this was going.

“Why would I kid? I wasn’t expecting to meet you so soon, and didn’t think ahead to get a room with an extra bed,” Logan said, running a hand through his hair.

“Listen, it’s fine, I’ll sleep in a chair.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh? Would you rather me sleep in the bathtub, then?” Damian said. Logan looked at him as he sat his bag onto the single bed in the room.

“Preposterous. You will simply have to sleep in the bed with me. If you are alright with that, of course,” Logan said, fixing his glasses that had slid down his nose.

“You offered,” Damian shrugged, ignoring the way his gay brain was absolutely screaming at him to shut up and just sleep on the floor.

“That I did,” Logan said with a small smile.

The two of them both went about their business. Logan brushed his teeth and took a shower while Damian went down to the lobby to purchase his own essentials he would need to stay the night. Or nights, if all went well tomorrow.

By the time they were both done, Logan was sitting at the end of the bed. Damian didn’t have anything to sleep in and Logan hadn’t brought any kind of extra pajamas so he had just unbuttoned a few buttons on his top and stripped to his boxers.

Logan averted his eyes when Damian entered the room, desperately trying to pretend like he didn’t know his face was firetruck red.

They had to admit, crawling into the bed was honestly really fucking awkward, but both were so exhausted neither commented. 

There was only one bed, but it was large enough that if they faced away from each other, they could pretend the other wasn’t there.

Of course, like all good sharing-the-singular-bed stories go, they ended up tangled together when they woke up.

-

-

Taglist in the reblog

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - V - Screams

Russia grows frustrated, staring angrily at the small fox in his lap.

'I can't speak. I can't walk. I can't even hold a doll by myself.'

Nothing he tries to say comes out right. He tries to ask questions, tries to tell America how much he likes the doll, tries to say anything at all. It all comes out as gibberish. Unfortunately for his temper, he has nothing else to do. Everyone had shut down their phones before leaving the city and had gotten radios before leaving Colorado to communicate.

He tries to work out his mouth as if to convince it to cooperate. Open. Close. Open. Close. Pop music plays in the background from the radio, just loud enough for Russia to whisper under it without feeling like everyone had heard his garbled speech.

Russia tries his best to get his tongue and mouth to make any understandable sounds.

"America," he tries.

'It still doesn't sound right.'

'It never sounds right.'

He clenches his fists as tight as he could, only to realize that his fists can't even fully close. He made a sort of growling in the back of his throat.

"Russ, are you doing okay?"

Russia shakes his head and blinks back the tears gathering in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

'I can't even tell you!'

Russia averts his eyes back to the fox doll.

"Hey, look at me," America says.

Russia begrudgingly looks up, and America looks worried.

"What about this, I'll ask yes or no questions and I'll try to figure out what it is, okay? Just nod or shake your head. Sound good?"

Russia reluctantly nods. America gives him a small smile.

"Okay, so, are your fingers bothering you?"

'Yes'

"Are they painful?"

'No'

"Is it because they're hard to use?"

'Yes'

"Is that it?"

'No'

America hums in thought before turning back.

"Are you upset because I couldn't understand you?"

'Yes. No one can.'

"Well, do you remember last time this happened?"

'Yes.'

"Do you remember how long it took to start talking again?"

'No.'

"I know this sucks for you, but you are getting better. You were walking around and can move your fingers," America says optimistically. Russia looks away, frustration lodged in his throat. America sighs.

"Are you this upset because you can't do things by yourself?"

Russia closes his eyes. He doesn't want to admit it. He feels embarrassed and helpless. Ultimately, he doesn't answer.

"Is this because you don't want to ask for help?"

Russia nods, feeling his cheeks burn. America sighs. Russia forcefully stares out the window, watching the hills roll by.

America tenderly grasps Russia's face and turns Russia's head to face him. Russia doesn't resist.

"Hey, look at me. Please."

Russia looks up to meet his eyes.

"Don't be embarrassed. Remember, the only reason you're like this is because you saved us. You saved me, Russia. You know that?"

Russia nods.

"I know this is bad. I know you're frustrated. And I'm sorry I can't help you. I know it's hard. But we're getting there," America whispers.

Russia closes his eyes and leans into America's hands. America draws Russia's face forward and they press their foreheads together. Russia feels the frustration begin to fade. America gathers up his shaking hands and holds them together, infusing them with warmth.

Russia tries to relax, to let go of the anger that had gathered in his chest. It doesn't disappear completely, but it becomes more tolerable, less suffocating.

"I'm here," America mutters, "and don't you forget it."

Russia laughs quietly, though he's not sure why.

'It sounds more normal now,' Russia notes, almost happily.

America pulls away and smiles, and Russia smiles back. America guilds Russia's head down with his warm hands and Russia doesn't resist. America gently presses a kiss on his forehead, and Russia feels his cheeks grow hot, but finds that he doesn't mind. America guilds his head back and stares into his eyes.

"We will figure out what's going on, and we'll figure out how to stop it. Kick their a**es for even thinking about messing with us," America says, a determined look in his eyes, and a small smile on his face, "as soon as we're all healed up, we'll raise h***."

Russia nods in agreement.

"We'll be damned if we don't help you," Texas chimes in.

"He's right, you know," Georgia adds.

"I can help burn the place down," Arizona says, cackling.

America laughs, a proud spark in his eyes as he looks to the states.

"I'm sure you will. But right now, we need to focus on making sure that everyone is safe," America says. Texas agrees.

Russia decides to give his voice a break. He basks in the warmth from America, who holds his hands, gently playing with his fingers.

Russia closes his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest.

Outside grows dark, and they swap drivers when they get gas. Once they get started again, Russia grabs a water bottle and tries to open it. He wrestles with it for a few minutes before handing it to America for help. He tries to ignore the embarrassment in the pit of his stomach. America opens it easily and hands it back to him. Russia feels grateful at the fact that America helped him without a second thought and that he hadn't made a big deal of it.

He feels a little embarrassed taking pride in the fact that he could feed himself, but the proud smile America gives him makes it worth it.

'At least now I can survive on my own.'

Russia had begun to drift off, only for knocking against the window to wake him up. He sits up, confused. He looks around and sees Texas had taken over driving, and outside it pitch black save for what's illuminated by headlights.

They had to have been going pretty fast, with how the ground seems to move.

'Then where did that knocking come from?'

"What is that?" he tries to ask. The words are almost recognizable now.

"Don't look," Finland says quietly.

"What," Russia says, a demanding tone to his voice.

"What 'what'?" Texas asks.

"Nnn," Russia tries, putting all his effort into the word, "knock. Knocking."

'One word at a time works best.'

His speech still doesn't sound right, even to his own ears. His accent as heavy as it had been when he first started learning English. His tongue might be cooperating now, but only in his native pronunciations. It may sound weird, but at least now he could be understood.

"Knocking? You heard knocking?" Finland asks. Russia nods, pointing to his window.

"That's not good. At all," Texas mutters, grabbing for the radio.

"Hey, are any of y'all having anything weird happenin'?" Texas says into the radio, turning up the volume on its speaker.

"Now that y'all mention it, yeah. Somethin's been runnin' in the trees. Have any of y'all been seeing that?" Kentucky's voice rings out.

"Yeah, we saw it too, Tuck," Dixie says. His voice sounds tired.

"Same here," Michigan says, "but I don't think it's just one thing."

"Yeah, me and Mitch have been seeing all sorts of things. I think they're hiding from the lights," Idaho interjects.

"Delaware and I have been hearing stuff. We thought we heard something behind us," Oregon relays through the radio.

"Has Bama's car seen anything?" Arkansas asks.

"No, we haven't," Wisconsin replies.

"We haven't either," Nova Scotia offers, "Illinois and Minnesota say the same thing."

"I feel like we're being watched," South Dakoda says.

"Us too. Ohio's been staring out the window because of it," North Dakoda says.

"All my passengers are asleep, but I could've sworn I heard someone talking. I couldn't understand it, but it was there," Saskatchewan says.

"And then-"

"Shut up," Michigan snaps, "do you guys see that?"

"See what?" Dixie demands.

"The thing on the left side of the road," Michigan replies.

Russia sits up a little more in his seat and tries to get a peek outside, but can't see anything. America stirs and sits up, yawning.

"Gan, I don't see nothing," Texas says, cautious.

"It's... holy s*** that thing is huge..." Michigan says, trailing off.

"Ignore it," Arizona says into the radio, her voice sounds strange.

"What?"

"I said IGNORE IT," Arizona demands.

"But what is it?"

"A Navajo story that I will NOT explain right now. Do not say its name, you will get its attention," Arizona demands.

Russia feels his hair stand on end. America tenses and straightens in his seat, a scared look in his eyes. Russia wraps him in a protective hold.

'Something is watching us.'

He looks out the window over Georgia's head and doesn't see anything.

At first.

"We have to keep driving. NO EXCEPTION," Arizona demands into the radio, her voice shaky, "if it jumps out, hit it. That's no animal. I will try to do a prayer when we stop so the evil may forget our faces. But do not stop. Do not serve."

The pass, the atmosphere tense. Russia stares out the window. He spots a black shadow thing sitting on the side of the road, bright red eyes stare at him as they pass.

Then he sees it get up.

"It's getting up," Russia tries to stay, but even America gives him a confused look. The words sound garbled and Russia groans.

"Monster," Russia says, his speech slow and enunciated, "stand."

Then the radio blasts the sounds of someone fumbling the microphone.

"IT'S FOLLOWING US!" Delaware shouts.

Behind Delaware's voice is panicked screaming and arguing.

Looking out through the rearview window, Russia sees a disturbing thing chasing them, it runs out from behind Delaware's car.

It passes into the headlights, and Russia feels like he's going to vomit. It looked kinda like a deer, but like it had been turned inside-out. It looked too large to be normal, and it ran on its hind legs.

"Someone sent it after us," Arizona mutters.

"Should we shoot it?" Alabama asks.

"No. It'll lose interest, just keep going," Arizona insists.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Bama. I swear to God, if I hear a single gunshot, I'll make sure you're the first one it eats."

The thing begins to run beside the car, and Russia gets a close-up view of its contorted features. Its face looks scarily human.

Almost.

Its teeth stuck out, like the jaw of a horse. It's nose looked like the skeletal nostrils of a human, and its eyes.

Its eyes cause him to freeze.

They look human. Wide, and a golden hazel color. They stare into his soul and hold a deep, unfathomable animosity for him.

His eyes lock with it.

His heart stops.

The urge to break eye contact is intense, but he refuses to listen. Something deep in this gut tells him not to look away

He stares until it changes its gaze. It springs into the air, soaring over the road.

It lands and screams.

The scream sounded like someone whose lungs were filling with blood. It is piercing and gurgled.

Then, it turns and disappears behind the trees on the other side of the road.

~

Next

Previous

Table of Contents

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist 6-10

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 6-10/26 under the cut.  Previous parts here. Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 6 -

“Hey, Cass, you wanna go for a drive-”

“Yes,” he said agreeably, appearing out of thin air.  Then his nose wrinkled.  “Motörhead?”

“What’s wrong with Motörhead?”

“Nothing, it’s just… loud,” Cass said, loosening his tie.

“You say that a lot,” I said, “but you know that we could just turn down the volume?”

“No, not loud like that,” he said, shaking his head.  “It is… difficult-to-have-a-conversation loud.”

“I don’t really see the difference, but okay, what do you want to listen to?” I asked.

Cass seemed to freeze.  “…me…?”

“Yes, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, what do you want to listen to?” I asked, nodding my head towards the cassette collection.

“I can… choose?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug.

“But I am… the passenger,” he said, baffled.

“So you want to listen to Iggy Pop?”

“No, I… I mean, the passenger is to shut his cakehole, is he not?”

“Generally, yes,” I agreed.  “But just this once.”

Cass seemed flustered.

I had just said it offhandedly.  It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.

The way Cass was reverently flipping through the tapes seemed like A Big Deal.

“I get final veto power,” I mumbled, trying to regain some semblance of my authority.

Cass hummed his assent, then pulled out a tape.

I held my hand out to him and he placed it into my waiting hand.  I felt the warmth of his fingertips, then held up the tape for inspection.  “You really like Bowie, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said, ejecting Motörhead and putting in The Man Who Sold the World.

Cass rolled down his window, letting the wind blow against his face as he watched the passing scenery.

Our conversations always meandered, about Cass’s work, about what was going on in my little patch heaven, about the past.  I felt relaxed, listening to Cass’s low voice talk about organizing angel tree planters floating over heavy guitar and a cacophony of drums.

He paused when the title track came on, his mouth tilting into a little smile.  “I like this song.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, it’s hard to put my finger on it, but… it makes me think of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.

“Did I sell the world?”

“You might have.”

“Huh.”

“I like the Nirvana cover, too.”

“Really, Cass?  Grunge?” I scoffed.

“Kurt Cobain was an exceptional poet,” he informed me.

“Oh, man, are you trying to recommend music to me now?” I asked, amused.

“You know Dean, they did not stop making music after the 1980s.”

“Might as well have.”

Cass exhaled a little laugh, turning to look out the window again.  He started singing quietly to the chorus, “who knows?  Not me.  We never lost control.  You’re face to face with the man who sold the world.”

I liked listening to my tone-deaf angel sing, joining him in the final lines.

When the tape finished, I ejected it, then nodded my head to the cassettes again.  “What’s next?”

“I can choose again?” Cass asked, surprised.

“Pick something good.”

He grinned happily as he started going through all the tapes.

- 7 -

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, rocking out to Van Halen.

Cass held out the bag of donuts he’d brought for our drive and I took one, taking a bite and continuing to mouth the words.

“I like sprinkles,” he decided, staring very hard at the strawberry donut he was eating.  “They do not seem like they add anything of value, and yet without them, the donut is lesser.”

“Rainbow sprinkles for Cass, check,” I said, going back to singing.  “I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off of it.  Ah, I reach down between my legs.  Ease the seat back.”

“Apparently there are many people who think this song is called Animal,” Cass put in.

“But it is actually called…?”

“Panama,” he said, beaming at me.

“Look at our little Cassie, all grown up,” I said, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder.

“The younger angels all come to me to learn about the ancient music of the 1970s and 80s,” he said proudly.

“Ancient?” I repeated.

“Quite,” he agreed.

“Anciently awesome,” I muttered.

“Are songs about strippers… anciently awesome?” Cass asked, his tone implying that they might not be.

“Strippers are awesome,” I declared.

Cass snorted at that.  “Dean, your performative masculinity is unnecessary.”

“Performative… what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I growled at him.

He shrugged, a bizarrely human gesture on him.  “If your idea of a good time is watching scantily clad women struggling to pay their bills while dealing with issues of paternal abandonment-”

“-which I do-”

“-then you should spend your time in heaven doing that instead of driving around in your Impala with me.”

“I can do both,” I protested.

“When have you…” Cass trailed off, squinting at me.  “Dean, I think you need feminism.”

“You sound like Sam,” I groaned.

“No, our tones are significantly different.”

I just rolled my eyes.

“I am going to make you a mixtape,” Cass decided.

“Oh?”

“Yes.  Of only female artists.”

Something inside of me rebelled against the idea of it.  But another part of me thought about that catchy Taylor Swift song that I couldn’t quite get out of my head.  “I don’t need weepy chick music,” I said dismissively.

“Deaaaaan,” he sighed heavily, like my name was ten syllables long.

“Do you even know how to make a mixtape?”

“I am very good at figuring things out.”

We all knew that wasn’t true, but I didn’t say anything more, and the next time Cass appeared in my car, he was proudly waving a cassette at me that read in very tiny lettering, ‘A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification'.

I shook my head at him.

He just grinned.

“You gonna put it in?” I asked.

“No,” he said, adding the tape to my collection.  “You should listen to it alone.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said with a snort.

“I just mean that your reaction will be more authentic.”

“Okay,” I said, squinting at him.  Like I was performative.

“Can we listen to Led Zeppelin today?” he asked.

“Um, we can always listen to Led Zeppelin,” I said.  “Whaddya wanna hear?”

“We could start at Led Zeppelin and proceed chronologically?” he suggested.

“I like the way you think,” I said, feeling around for the tape and then pushing it into the deck.

After Cass had left, I could feel his mixtape sitting there, staring at me.

I glared at it.

What had Cass said?  That I needed feminism?

This was going to be so annoying.

I pulled the tape out and pushed it into the deck.

The guitar that greeted my ears was familiar.

“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train.  When I was feeling nearly faded as my jeans.  Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained.”

I felt a little smile tugging at my lips.  I could respect some Janis Joplin, and the fact that Cass had chosen to open up his mixtape with Me and Bobby McGee actually had me a little impressed with his mixtape-making skills.

Then the song ended, and I could hear Cass’s faraway-sounding voice in the back of the recording.  “Did it record the song?”

I cracked up, listening to him struggle to figure out how to stop the recording before putting on the next song.  I had no idea what kind of equipment he’d decided to use for this, but the sound quality was a little scratchy, suggesting he might have just been holding up a microphone to a tape player.

Then the twangy guitar of Fleetwood Mac suddenly filled the speakers.

I listened to the tape from start to finish.  There were some random moments of Cass mumbling to himself, trying to figure out what he was doing.  There was also a very loud crash in the middle of Patti Smith, followed by some cursing that had me laughing so hard I had tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

And at the end of it all, I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell Cass had known enough to pick out each of those songs.  Sure, Metatron had braindumped him with a bunch of pop culture references, but there was a depth to his choices.  It was obvious he was mostly trying to choose songs he thought that I would like, with rockers like Suzi Quatro and Heart.  But then there was Joni Mitchell, which was just so Cass to me.

“I am on a lonely road and I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling.  Looking for something, what can it be?”

It was kind of beautiful, and I found myself rewinding it and listening again.

[Listen to Castiel's full C46 mixtape 'A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification' on Spotify.]

- 8 -

Me and Cass sat on the hood of the Impala, drinking beers while Black Sabbath blasted through the speakers.

Cass suddenly leaned back, staring up at the sky.  “The stars are beautiful here,” he observed.

“Yeah, no ambient light in heaven,” I said, laying back beside him.

“Shooting star,” Cass pointed out happily.

I was looking at him instead of the sky.  I looked back up, but it was already gone.  “Haven’t you seen a million of them?”

“And I hope to see a million more.”

“How can you be like that?” I asked, shaking my head.  I sat up again and took a pull from my beer.

“Like what?” he asked.

“I dunno,” I said.  “Hopeful?”

“Is it hopeful to enjoy the beauty of my father’s creation?”

“I got no idea.”

“What’s on your mind, Dean?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You just seem like you want to talk about something,” he said, sitting up next to me.

“Not really,” I said with a shrug.

He stared at me for a long moment, then looked away with his own shrug.  “Don’t tell me, then.”

“Don’t be like that,” I complained, nudging him with my elbow.

“Then talk to me,” he said with a scowl.

“Hey, Cass,” I said.  “How you doin’?”

“Crappy,” he responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t be like that,” I repeated, nudging him harder.  That of course did nothing because he was an immovable lump of celestial intent.

“I am just being myself.”

“A grumpy-ass angel?”

“A grumpy-ass angel,” he agreed sarcastically.

“I like when you’re a happy, non-grumpy-ass angel,” I said, looking him in the eye.

“I am very happy, Dean,” he said, staring back unbothered.

“Why?” I asked before I could help it.

His expression took on a more thoughtful countenance.  “Well, to be happy is to be ‘characterized by well-being and contentment’,” he said, like he was reading from the dictionary.  “Heaven is still a work in progress, but it has been greatly transformed by Jack, and I am able to be a part of that.  I derive great satisfaction from my work.”

“And that’s enough?” I asked.

“No, it’s not enough,” he said, shaking his head.  “Work is just one part of life.”

I found myself chewing on my bottom lip.

“I have my friends and my family,” he continued, leaning in a little closer and trying to maintain eye contact.  “When my work is finished, I can visit with them, go for drives with my best friend.”

“And that’s… good enough?” I asked.

Cass gave me a scrutinizing look.  “Are we talking about me…?”

“Yes, we’re talking about you, who else would we be talking about?” I grumbled, feeling annoyed for some reason.

“Dean.”

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I looked away.

“I find great satisfaction in my personal life,” he finally said.  “And I am enjoying my new hobby immensely.”

“Hobby?”

“Earth music,” he explained, his expression softening into a smile.  “I want to listen to it all.”

“Yeah?” I said.  “That’s a lotta music, Cass.”

He nodded happily.

“So me makin’ you mixtapes… that makes you happy?” I asked, weighing the words out before I spoke.

“Yes, Dean, so very much,” he said sincerely.  “It’s like you’re giving me a piece of your soul with every song.”

“Um, I don’t think it’s quite that deep.”

“Music is truly powerful.”

“Not that powerful.”

“And yet…”

I let him have the last word, shaking my head and taking a drink.

“Dean, are you happy?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug.  “Ya know, for a dead guy.”

Cass sighed very loudly.

I gave him my most charming grin.

“You are in heaven,” he said to me.  “You are supposed to be experiencing the ultimate form of contentment.”

“I am,” I said, knocking our shoulders together.  I realized he was starting to get upset, and I didn’t want that.  I liked Happy Cass, as unsettling and foreign as he was.  “I am experiencing many forms of contentment right now.”

He looked at me.

I let my hand drop to his knee, resting there.  “I’ve got my baby, I’ve got my beer, I’ve got my tunes, and I’ve got my angel.”

That got him to half-smile.

I squeezed his knee.  “I’m okay, Cass.”

“I wish that you were more than okay,” he told me.

“How much more okay do I need to be?” I asked, rolling my eyes and reclaiming my hand as I took a drink.

He just looked at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can we listen to something else?” he asked abruptly.

“Too loud?”

“Yes.”

“Put in whatever you want,” I said, nodding my head back towards the car.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape, smiling at me hopefully.

“What’s that?” I asked, holding out my hand.

He passed it to me.

“Joni Mitchell?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Blue is a masterpiece,” he informed me.

I looked at him.

“You said whatever I want.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, handing it back to him.

Cass looked pleased as he slid down off the hood and headed back into the car.

Ozzy Osbourne’s voice cut out, and suddenly the night was quiet.  It was only a moment, and then Joni Mitchell’s acoustic guitar kicked in.

“I really like this song,” he told me as he climbed back up on the hood.

“It’s alright,” I said.  “For chick music,” I couldn’t help but add.

“Dean, there is no such thing as chick music.”

“Uh, it’s music made by chicks.”

“So music made by men is dick music?”

I spit out my beer.

Cass shrugged, playing it off like he was just making an observation.  Like he didn’t know exactly what to say to make me laugh.  “I might like chick better than dick,” he decided.

I was dying.

Cass smiled a happy, pleased smile.

I slung my arm around his shoulder and drank my beer, contentedly listening to the haunting sound of Joni Mitchell’s voice.

- 9 -

“This album is a revelation,” Cass informed me.

“Really, Cass?” I asked incredulously.  “Beyoncé?”

“Queen Bey, yes,” he said with a sincere nod.

“Oh, is this a monarchy?” I asked.

Cass sighed loudly.  “Be quiet and listen.”

I was quiet, but I couldn’t guarantee that I was listening.  “What is the point of sampling?” I grumbled.  “Come up with your own music.”

“Sampling is like a storyteller passing down the oral history of one generation down to the next,” Cass explained, using that voice that sounded like he was talking to a child but usually meant he was talking to me.  “It is actually incredibly intricate and beautiful when done well.”

“I don’t know, Cass, I don’t think Andy Williams reggae is for me.”

“Listen to the words,” he growled at me.

I tried.  “I’m just not into jilted lover chick music.”

Cass straight up scowled at me.

I groaned.  This was going to be a long ride.

Then something caught my ear.

“…is that Zepp?!”

Cass gave me a haughty look.  “Funny how excited you get at hearing a lowly ‘sample’.”

“Zepp rules,” I said with a shrug.

“You should try being more open-minded, Dean.”

“I’m very open-minded,” I said incredulously.

“Because you like that one Taylor Swift song?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Cass ignored me and started singing along.

I decided to ignore him, too.

We got through a few more tracks that had me really thinking this wasn’t an album for a middle-aged white guy, but then out of nowhere there was a country song blasting through the speakers and Cass had gone quiet, touching my arm.  “Listen,” was all he said.

“Came into this world daddy's little girl.”

“So relatable,” I mumbled, and Cass pinched me.  “Ow!”

“And daddy made a soldier out of me.”

That gave me pause.

“Daddy made me dance and daddy held my hand.”

Losing me again…

“And daddy liked his whisky with his tea and we rode motorcycles.  Blackjack, classic vinyl.  Tough girl is what I had to be.”

I swallowed.

“He said take care of your mother, watch out for your sister.”

‘Watch out for Sammy,’ Dad’s voice echoed in my ears.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

‘All right, if somethin' tries to bust in?’ Dad asked.

‘Shoot first, ask questions later,’ I found myself answering.

Cass didn’t say anything for the rest of the song.

I hit the ‘stop’ button.

His head tilted as he gazed at me, waiting.

“The fuck was that?” I finally ground out.

He blinked at me.

“I didn’t like it,” I said abruptly.

A frown tugged at Cass’s mouth.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I did not mean to upset you.”

“Who’s upset?” I growled, speeding up.

“You are,” he said, like he was pointing out the obvious.

“Whatever.”

I almost jumped out of my skin when Cass put his hand on my arm again.

“Sorry,” he said softly.  “I didn’t know that things between you and John were still so… unresolved.”

“Dad and I are fine,” I lied, and no one believed me.

Cass left his hand on my arm, and after a while he reclaimed his Beyoncé tape and put in some Metallica.

- 10 -

Cass left the damn tape mixed in with my collection.

I kept rewinding it, listening again and again.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot.  Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

Cass caught me, appearing in my passenger seat out of nowhere without the customary invitation.

I hit ‘eject’, and neither of us said anything about it.  “What do you want to listen to?” I asked.

“Driver picks the music,” Cass said.

I shrugged.  “Fish out some Lynyrd Skynyrd.”

He did so, pushing in their debut album.

I started singing along to I Ain’t the One.

This was what we did.  Except, usually I called Cass.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked.

“Hm?” he said, looking away from the window to face me.  “Oh, I just wanted to see you.  I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” I said.  “You don’t need an invitation.”

“You have said that before, so I thought… I thought I might take you up on it.”

“Good.”

Cass leaned back more comfortably in his seat, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.  He’d been taking off the trench coat and the suit jacket more and more often lately.  “Sam said the same thing, but I didn’t know that kitchens were a place for sexual intercourse.”

I slow blinked.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sam told me to stop by any time,” he said.  “Then he told me to knock first.”

“Wait, wait, so Sammy was hitting it on the kitchen table?”

“He wasn’t hitting anything,” Cass said, squinting at me.

“Cass, come on, you mean to tell me that you still haven’t figured out the art of the sexual innuendo?”

“Sam and Eileen were… in a compromising situation on the kitchen counter,” he explained.

“Nice,” I said agreeably.  “Good for Sammy.”

“Sam was not quite as enthusiastic about the situation,” Cass said, shaking his head.  “At least Eileen thought it was funny.”

I leaned back against my headrest, chuckling.  “Eileen is so cool, how did she ever end up with my dorky brother?”

“Opposites attract?” Cass suggested.

“Apparently,” I said.  “So you got a real eyeful?”

“I saw more of Sam than I ever wanted to, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.

I cracked up.  “Gross, man.”

“Indeed.”

“Pick up any new techniques?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him.  “Knowing Sammy, probably not…”

“Sex techniques?” he asked, making a face at me.

“Yeah, man,” I said.  “Never know when some lovely lady- or uh… dude, uh… might, ya know, walk into your life.”

“I am not interested in having sex.”

“Dude, come on,” I said.  “You don’t ever get the urge…?”

“No.”

“Cass, you’re killing me here.”

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much,” he said with a shrug.  “Your sexual activity decreased significantly after the whole Mark of Cain skulduggery.”

I was scandalized.  “I did not-” and then I thought about it.  “How would you know?” I blustered, deciding to take a different tack.

“It is very obvious when you’ve had sex, Dean,” he said, like he was talking about the weather.  “Elevation in mood, increased winking and eyebrow waggling, excessive cockiness…”

“How is that-”

“Also, the smell.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The pheromone smell,” Cass said, nodding his head.  “Very distinct.”

I sniffed the air around me self-consciously.

“There’s also the ritual,” he said, gazing ahead thoughtfully.  “Primping yourself-”

“Hey, now, I do not primp-”

“Fixing your hair, making sure your clothing lies just right…” he explained.  “Then it is off to the bar, a few drinks, a few well-placed aw-shucks country boy smiles-”

“I do not-”

“Find a willing partner and take her to where it is convenient to fornicate-”

“Dude, really?”

“All I am saying is that you stopped having a strong interest in such superficial acts, so I do not know why I should have to be interested in them.”

“I am still very interested in those superficial acts,” I grumbled.  “I just… there was always so much going on, ya know?  And I just… well, okay, maybe I didn’t just want to pick up some random girl at a bar and take her home.  I…” I trailed off, at a loss to explain.

“I understand,” Cass said.  “I wonder if I would be more interested if sex with the person I love was possible, but since it is not, it all seems rather frivolous.”

“You can’t just dismiss it like that when you’ve barely even tried,” I said, shaking my head.  “Look-” I started and froze, the synapses in my brain finally firing.  “Wait, I’m the person you love.”

“Yes,” Cass agreed.

“Wait, wait, wait.”

He waited.

“So… you would want to have sex if it was with… me?” I asked slowly.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, nodding.

“And I’m not… interested… so, you’re just gonna be celibate…?”

“Correct,” he agreed.

“Cass, man, I can’t be the reason for you not getting laid.”

“You’re not,” he said, giving me an amused look.

“You just said…”

“Dean, I have experimented with human sexuality, and I do not find it fulfilling without a ‘connection’,” he said, making air quotes.  “Maybe someday I will make a ‘connection’ with another being who returns my feelings, but for now I am content without sexual contact.”

“But-”

“Perhaps you should worry more about your own sex life than mine,” he said.

I glared at him.

He held his hands up.  “I just mean that if sex makes you happy, then why aren’t you having it?”

“Oh, you watch,” I muttered.

“Are you inviting me for some sort of voyeuristic experience?” he asked, looking perplexed.

“No!” I cried, but then I couldn’t help but laugh.

Cass was quiet, but he had a little smile on his face.

“Is this really enough for you?” I asked softly.

“What?” he asked, eyes flicking to mine as he studied my expression.  “You and I?”

I nodded.

His smile went soft.  “Of course it is, Dean.”

“Okay,” I said, because when he looked at me like that I had to believe him, as improbable as it seemed.  “Cass, I…”

“Yes?”

I struggled for the words and finally gave up.  “You can drop by whenever you like.  You don’t even have to knock.”

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, looking pleased.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug.  And that was all there was to say.