#Boy I hope you bullet proof cause this about to hurt

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

May or may not be working on an Earthspark Optimus Prime fic...

Here's a sneak peek:

“A lot happens when you go missing for fourteen years. So, spill it, what made you disappear?” Dots hands landed on her hips and her smile vanished, replaced by the serious expression she often wore as a lieutenant. Y/n casts their gaze toward the ground, an ounce of shame wiggling into their brain over just suddenly disappearing all those years ago.

               The relationship between Optimus and Y/n had been kept somewhat under wraps, as the fear of being used against each other and just the distraction of being in and at the end of a war were enough to keep everything quiet, but there were a few who had more of an idea of what was going on, like Dorothy and some of the other bots. But Y/n never let anyone know they were leaving- they didn’t want to be followed and convinced to come back. They couldn’t face him.               

“Y/n?” And just like that, they are snapped out of their thoughts. Y/n’s arms going around their torso, an attempt to comfort themself that just didn’t seem to be doing the job.

Guys, I already have 800 words, and I'm not even close to being done. Send help

[sacredsorceress]

Worth the Risk || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: when bucky and sam get captured you have to go in alone to save them leading to a worried, overprotective bucky who cares about you a bit more than a teammate should

a/n: reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2.2k

warnings: description of violence, injuries, a gun, dagger and blood, swearing, angst w/ happy ending

masterlist || taglist

“Bucky?” You whispered through the earpiece. “Sam? Where are you guys-”

Sitting in the van, you began to grow worried as you couldn’t find any of your teammates on the screen after they had turned around a corner. Tapping the earpiece, you were about to speak again when you heard Sam’s voice on the other end.

“Y/n?”

Sitting forward in your chair, you breathed a premature sigh of relief.

“Sam? Thank God you guys are okay.” You told him. “I was worried when-”

“Y/n, listen,” Sam cut you off, his voice a near whisper. “They got us- me and Bucky- but I think you’ll be able to take them out if you think you’re ready for it.”

You began to feel your heart race in your chest just at the proposition. Although you had joined the group almost half a year ago, you had never gone on a mission by yourself- always having others to back you up, but you knew Sam well enough that he wouldn’t have suggested the idea lightly. If he asked you to go in alone... you knew it was because there was no other choice.

“Okay.” You said. “I can do this, Cap. I’ll be there soon- just hold on.”

With that, you left the vehicle, making your way into the building. When the door of the facility closed behind you, you raised your gun.

“You shouldn’t have told her to come in here.” Bucky told Sam, pacing around their cell. “If we couldn’t handle it together, what makes you think that she can do it by herself? You’re going to get her killed-”

“Buck,” Sam said firmly. “I know you’re worried about her, but she can handle herself. She’s our only shot of getting out of here so I’m gonna need you to calm down.”

Sitting himself down in the corner of the room, Bucky said nothing more to Sam, instead placing his head in his hands.

Bucky knew logistically that you could handle yourself- you were on the team for a reason- but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry about you. He worried about you all the time- even in training- nagging Sam if he threw you down a bit too hard and feeling his heart drop to his stomach when bruises littered your body after a mission. He hated seeing you get hurt, but as he sat in the cell with Sam, knowing that you were coming into the building all on your own- he felt as though he was going to be sick.

Now he wasn’t there to watch your back. He wasn’t there to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. He wasn't there to make sure you didn't get yourself killed- the thought of it too horrible for him to even allow himself to think about. He worried because he knew in your line of business, every wrong move could be fatal and he couldn’t bare the thought of not having you by his side every day.

Listening to the sound of water leaking from the sealing above him, Bucky prayed you would be alright.

Turning a corner inside of the building, you were hoping the same.

Peaking around the edge of a wall you spotted two men, armed with batons. Taking a deep breath, you aimed for one of the men’s bullet proof vest, taking the shot and knocking him to the ground. Immediately the other man ran towards you with the baton raised in his hand. 

Ducking as he swung the baton, you threw a punch to the man’s stomach, knocking him backwards, but just as you did the other man hit you in your back with the baton.

“Fuck!” You screamed out in pain, taking the man’s arm between your knees. You pulled the baton out of his hand as you stretched it in the other direction, causing him to yelp out in pain. 

Once in your hand, you spun around, swinging the man in the face with the baton, knocking him unconscious. Dropping it to the floor, you pulled your taser from your belt, shocking the other man, forcing him to the ground.

“Y/n?” You heard Sam ask through the earpiece. “Y/n are you alright?”

Shoving the taser back in its slot and raising your gun once again, you stepped over the two men’s unconscious bodies, running down the hallway.

“I am now.” You huffed, placing one of your hands on your lower back. “When this is over, you’re paying for my chiropractor.”

Turning another corner, you were met with a man and a woman standing at the end of the hallway.

“Are you guys always in pairs?” You asked. “Frankly I think it’s unfair.”

When they said nothing, just raising their batons from their belts, you spoke up again.

“Where are my friends?” You asked more seriously.

“You’re about to find out.”

The woman running at you first, you hit the butt of your gun in her face causing her to wobble backwards but the second you did, you felt a burst of searing hot pain run throughout your face as the baton collided with your nose. Stumbling backwards, you felt as another of the baton’s swings hit your midsection, causing you to double over in pain.

The man tugged your collar as you felt another blow connect with your face.

Wheezing, you dropped the gun to your side.

Standing in front of you, the woman slid her baton back into her belt.

“See?” she said. “I’m sure your friends will be happy to see-”

As she spoke you carefully slid your dagger out of your belt, but before she was able to finish her sentence, you threw it cleanly at her, the dagger jamming itself through her shoulder, sticking her to the wall.

“Shit!” She shouted in pain.

Immediately afterwards, the man grabbed your coat shoving you against the wall only to throw another punch to your mouth. Rather than giving him the satisfaction of yelping out in pain, you headbutt the man, causing him to stumble backwards into his partner. Grabbing the baton from his hand, you swung it over his head, knocking him unconscious.

Spitting blood onto the ground, you heaved as you picked up your gun and the keys from the man’s waist, making your way over to the room on the right.

Swinging the door open, your eyes immediately fell onto the reinforced cell in front of you, Bucky and Sam rushing to the front. Stumbling over to the cell, you unlocked the door, swinging it open and leaning against it.

“Y/n?” You heard Bucky’s voice first as he ran over to you. “Fuck, look at you.”

Moving his hands to cup your face, not being able to help yourself from wincing, Bucky could feel his heart shatter in his chest. Sure, you had a few bruises here and there in the past but never this bad.

You had a deep gash across your nose that he was sure would need stitches along with a cut along your lip and a large bruise forming around your eye- and that was just your face.

Looking up and seeing his worried eyes, you shot him a quaint, bloody smile.

“You should see the other guys.” You joked.

You attempted to laugh, only to wheeze and begin to cough.

“Y/n this isn’t funny.” He said seriously. “You could have died. Sam should have never asked-”

“Bucky,” You cooed, reaching your hands up to cup his face. “I’m okay. Besides, I couldn’t leave my favorite boys in here could I?”

Feeling your fingertips against his face, he couldn’t help but melt into your touch. You always managed to make him a lovesick mess as if he was still fifteen and not a one hundred and six year-old man who had been to hell and back.

“Hate to break up the reunion,” Sam said. “But those guys will only be out for so long. We got to get out of here.”

-

After falling asleep on the car ride back to the Compound, you woke up in bed, the dim glow of the lamp shining on the night stand above you. Opening your eyes, you pushed yourself up in the bed, only for a shooting pain to spread throughout your torso. Not able to stop yourself, you yelped out in pain.

“Hey, hey,” You heard none other than Bucky’s voice beside you, one of his hands coming to rest on yours while the other adjusted your pillow. “Take it easy.”

“I am, Doc.” You lied, leaning against your newly adjusted pillow.

Tucking you in, Bucky shook his head, leaning on the nightstand beside you.

“We should have never let you go in alone.” He sighed, leaning his head on his hand. “I just felt sick the entire time. You could have died, Y/n. If they just hit you in the wrong spot... I’m never letting you go in alone again. I’m not letting you leave my sight.”

During your time as a member of the group, you and Bucky had grown incredibly close and during the past few months maybe even closer than friends. It was normal for him to worry- you never even had to wonder where he was during missions because he always had your back- but looking at his face now you could tell just how worried he had been and you couldn’t help but feel your heart break.

“Bucky,” You hummed. “You go on dangerous missions all the time alone. How am I any different?”

A silence settled over the two of you as Bucky squeezed your hand. 

Not meeting your eyes, he spoke up again.

“Because I can’t lose you.” Bucky said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I can’t even think about what would happen if anything happened to you, Y/n. Even seeing the cuts and bruises on your face? I’m... I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore, but I think if you put me in a room with those people I would kill them for what they did to you. I almost broke us out of the cell myself because I hated the idea so much of you going in there on your own. If something happens to me... it’s different. Nothing can happen to you, Y/n. Nothing.”

Staring at the super soldier sat at your bedside, you began to feel tears prick in your eyes. You had cared for Bucky in a way that you had been too afraid to admit- not wanting to ruin your friendship- but as he sat there, confessing his feelings for you, you couldn’t help but feel your heart tug in your chest, just wanting him.

“Do you love me?” You asked finally before you could stop yourself.

Looking up at your injured face, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He wasn’t able to read you in the moment at all, your face straight, seriousness laced in ever bit. All he could think was that even with the black eye and the stitches across your nose, he had never seen someone as beautiful as you.

He knew his answer. There wasn’t a single part of him that doubted it.

“Yes.” 

Hearing his answer, you stared at him and smiled.

“Are you sure?” You asked. “Do you love me as more than a teammate-”

“Y/n,” He cut you off, squeezing your hand once again. “As much as I love working with you, every time you call me your ‘teammate’ I want to go find a punching bag.”

Trying to bite back your smile, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You hated calling him “only” your teammate just as much as he did- if not more.  Knowing that he hated it just as much as you the entire time you used the word to disguise your true feelings made you feel as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest despite the aches that still consumed your being.

Bucky was more than your teammate, he was your partner.

“Oh Thank God.” You laughed. “I can’t tell you how many I’ve knocked off the hook after you called me your ‘friend’.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he leaned in closer to you.

“What are you saying?” He asked.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you reached your free hand up to his hair, brushing it back with your hand.

“I’m saying,” You smiled. “that I love you too and that I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”

Leaning into your touch, a smile finally reached across his face. “You know, if it weren’t for your stitches, I would kiss you right now.”

“So my face isn’t too messed up then, right, Doc?” You asked. “If you still want to kiss me and all...”

Reaching your hand up to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to your skin.

“You could never look bad, doll.” He hummed. “But promise me you won’t do that to me again. I almost had a heart attack, Y/n.”

Leaning your head against your pillow, admiring him, you smiled.

“I promise, Buck.”

[sokumotanaka]

Horikoshi you’re sleeping on Ojiro

I just wanted to make a post praising Ojiro.

It seems to me like the mangaka and show-runners don’t care about Ojiro

I tend to gravitate to the characters who work hard to get where they are.

My hero academia’s initial message was anyone can be a hero and hard work can beat natural talent and gifts. So when Deku started getting multiple powers and the focus started shifting off the others it disappointed me.

-

My salt with MHA as a series and the Mangaka is that characters like Ojiro aren’t properly given anything in terms of both power and personality. If you like Ojiro be prepared to make up 99% of the characterization yourself.

Let’s go off this: Ojiro’s room, literally has nothing in it cause the annoying bit is that Ojiro is soooo

Ordinary and boring you get it? I find it hard to believe that a dude who decided his super hero outfit was a karate Gi with fur trim on the collar.

When I saw Ojiro my first thought was his room would be filled with things that both inspired him or

could help him improve his Tail mutation.

Punching bag, three dumbbells (one for his tail too), Athletic tape, Books on animals and how he can use his tail, books or pencils on the table for obvious studying, posters from his favorite movies/heroes, maybe a martial artist tournament trophy or a belt from a competition. There’s so much you can put in his room.

And I don’t even like his outfit; You’re telling me a close quarters fighter is gonna go out there with people who can set themselves on fire or make spikes and so on and he’s just wearing a Gi??? I’d improve his hero outfit with so many things. He fights blocking and attacking with his tail; why not have some light armor on it (Like a bullet proof vest.) Deku has gloves that help him shoot projectiles and you’re telling me that Ojiro can’t get gloves that can have stun guns in them? Shock absorption boots, since he likes to catapult himself with his tail. Hell give him a collapsible staff so he can deal with people who hurt his tail. The only thing my boy Ojiro has for him is that he has a cute invisible girl that likes him and he doesn’t even have to try; unlike most you haters!

Oh don’t get me started on how people think to make Ojiro more interesting he needs a quirk evolution; which wouldn’t be opposed but people tend to say that he should grow an extra tail or something. Personally if we’re gonna go off the walls I’d say confirm his tail is a lions and give him the physical strength to match. (But since he does that crazy feat of strength in the later series; this is on the level of mid to late tier anime characters, which some need magic points to pull off Ojiro just….does it. So he could probably get anything.)

Personally I’d just make his tail hairs bristle out and when he hits people they’d get stuck in, but I just want more for my boy.

I just wish the series focused more on Ojiro and not just him but many of the ensemble cast; but even the show itself seems to make fun of Ojiro and it seems really unfair. (seriously His first interaction is getting the drop on pony who’s power is completely stupid and she calls him ordinary when her whole gimmick is stupid, cute foreigner girl? If your dumb horns couldn’t fly without repercussions he’d kick your butt.) Anyway here’s hoping Horikoshi doesn’t sleep on the mutant Quirked characters. Besides the ups he gives to froppy

[roscgcld]

THE LOVE OF AN OLDER BROTHER || INUMAKI TOGE

request: Okay if you accept sibling fluff can I request inumaki toge little sister reader(in elementary school) ,where she's deaf and gets bullied for it but doesn't tell him because she thinks it's to much of a burden(like silent voice)

note: hello love! thank you so much for your request! tbh, i’ve never watched the movie A Silent Voice before, so I had to do some Youtubing to find some clips - and I blame you for making me ugly cry at 2 am in the morning lmao. It’s so sweet and such a coming of age story in a way, so I tried to channel that into my writing >< I definitely enjoyed this one a lot!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: inumaki toge

pronouns: she/her

trigger warning: bullying/physical assault mentioned, along with self depreciating and suicidal thoughts. read with caution. 

proof read: N/A

Being from a clan like the Inumaki clan, many from the Jujutsu world would just automatically assume that you’d inherate the powerful Cursed Speech Curse Ability from your family. However, there is always that few exceptions when it came to things like this; and this time, you were that one exception.

You were born deaf, and because of this, you were looked down upon by the elders of your clan for being a ‘waste of an heir’. Your father, a loving man, had always shield you from there vile words; and from example your older brother, a gifted user, became overprotective of you. He would willingly take a bullet for you, constantly showering you in love and affection, and even going so far as learning how to use sign language at a young age so he can communicate with you.

Because he just wants you to grow up in a loving and somewhat normal life. That’s all he wants for you. 

Hence why, instead of following the normal route of a jujutsu student, your parents decided to sign you up in a nearby elementary school with the hopes that you get to bond with normal children. So that’s how you found yourself dressed in a cute floral dress, your white frilly socks with simple Mary Janes, your white hair pulled back into a delicate braid; all excited with your backpack filled with things you picked up at the stationery store and a bento prepared by your mother.

Since it was his day off, Toge took up the responsibility of sending you off on your first day, making sure that the entire process will be smooth sailing for you. Walking down the street of your town, he lets you swing your hands between each other, smiling behind his black mask at how excited you were to start your first day of school. It warmed his heart that you get to experience normal things like this, and without knowing it, you motivated him to push himself harder to become a stronger shaman, to protect the world that brings you so much joy. 

Soon you both found your way into the school grounds and quietly, Toge brought you aside so that he can pull his mask down, revealing his tattooed mouth and tongue. But you just smile at your older brother, who smiles back before he reaches over to ruffle your hair between his fingers. Quietly he signed to you, mouthing the worlds he wanted to say silently instead of wording them out in the open; he was a Cursed Speech user, after all. The safest way for him to communicate for you is for him to use onigiri ingredients. or to word out the words silently whilst doing the signs with his hands. 

‘You ready for school, pipsqueak?’

“Uf huf!” You said happily, your speech clearly slurred and not so clear since you had never been corrected on how to say words properly - but with how you excitedly nod your head with a wide smile, Toge can pretty much interpret what you were saying. Smiling warmly at your excitement, he leans over to kiss you on the forehead on last time before pulling his mask back on. With that he got back up and, after taking your outstretched hand, you two joined the rest of the crowd once more.

After a lot of paperwork and awkward one sided conversations, since Toge went with the excuse that he had a sore throat, you soon found yourself being led to stand behind your new classmates, who were focused on saying goodbye to their parents. Toge squatted down before you and you can immediately tell he was smiling behind his mask, causing you to smile back as well. Quietly he leans forward to rub his masked nose with yours, something that you two always do when the other is about to leave.

With a giggle you happily rubbed your nose against his as well, and with another parting pat to your head, he got up and followed the other parents that were ushered out of the crowded hallway. Soon a few of the more confident students started to introduce themselves to one another, and one of those children came running towards you with a grin. “Good morning! My name is Taku, nice to meet you!” He greeted loudly as he bowed at you and the girls around you, who all gave him an uninterested glance before turning their attention away from him. 

But you did give him an excited smile before you started to sign back a greeting, trying to vocalise your name at the same time. This cause everyone in the hallway to pause and stare at you in confusion, since they had not expected for someone who looks so sweet and soft spoken to have spoken in such a loud and odd way. However before anyone can make a comment about it, the teacher finally arrived with a warm smile on his face, gesturing for the students to entire their new class.

This moment of excitement managed to distract the students and soon everyone flooded into the room, waiting for their seat arrangements to be settled by the teacher before they start their first real day as students. Of course, like any first day of school, you had to do the ice breaker activities to introduce your name and greeting the rest of the class. Everyone had to do it, regardless if they were ready to do it or not - and you were no exception.

You stood up excitedly before you started to say what sounds like your name, signing along the way to try and express yourself better. Once again, everyone was staring at you in confusion, having never heard someone speak like you before. Your teacher just smiles and nods, introducing you to the rest of the students simply. “Inumaki here is actually deaf, meaning she can’t hear you all. So you have to be more creative when you want to talk to her. However, just because she is different, doesn’t mean she is any different from you all. So I expect to treat her like everyone else.” 

The simple explanation caused the rest of the students to nod softly, giving you more curious looks since they’ve never been around someone like you before. But on the outside, you were pretty much the same like the rest of them; so it was easy to forget that you were any different from them in the beginning. 

It was actually really fun for you - for your entire life, you had always been around sorceress, feeling like an outcast in such a well gifted family. Even though you had a disadvantage, you had always been acutely aware of where curses were, being able to locate them quite accurately even without former training. But you were still a child, so you were given a chance to try out the life as a normal child. You were ecstatic, since you had always dreamed what it would be like to start school and live a normal life. 

But, as if the world wanted to spite you, things never tend to go your way.

You remember how things first started out for you - people were shocked at how loud and different you were, but made a real effort to try and talk to you to try and get to know you; since that was what their teachers told them to. However, after awhile, people started to talk behind your back; about how you made no real effort to try and join the conversation, even though the hearing aids you donned on seemed to help you understand them just a little better. At first you ignored the comments of just a few people, having been able to ignore all the backhanded comments that the elders have made for almost your entire life. 

However, the first ever boy who introduce himself to you, Taku, seemed to have deemed you to be the odd one out - and for some reason, had decided that you were going to be the subject of his new taunts and teases. At first it was small things like playful off handed comments about you that made your mood fall, but didn’t do much. You have been subjected to worse treatement from others. However, as the weeks go by, it was getting harder and harder to ignore. 

Toge had noticed that as the weeks go on, the enthusiasm that you once held for school started to dwindle. Every time he asks you about it though, you would just quickly wave him off, saying that you were just tired with how much work it takes to with people who weren’t necessarily used to using sign language and understanding you. Technically you weren’t lying, since you were mentally drained trying to communicate with so many different types of people. But at the same time, all the off-handed comments were getting to you. 

Your answer definitely has him concerned, since he was used to having his baby sister basically talking his ear off on a normal bases; but he didn’t push you too much. It was something he had learnt to do when it comes to you - that when you really need him, you’d come and tell him no matter what. And it was true; even if it was a small trivial matter, you always come whining to him for attention and a listening ear. So he doesn’t necessarily push you to tell him, but he did remind you that if you needed him, he would be there.

And you knew that, but the same time, somehow there were seeds of doubts planted in your mind. 

“Don’t you think you’re annoying people all the time?”

“God, you’re so noisy! Can’t you talk quieter?! No wonder people don’t like talking to you~”

“Can you stop trying so hard? You just sound weird.”

It hurt you, and with how busy he can get with his own school life and rarely get to see you, these words started to fill your head and make you feel like you aren’t worth all the effort that people put into trying to communicate with you. It made you start to become closed off and stop making the effort to talk to people, because in your eyes, you didn’t want to be a bigger bother then you already are for people.

Your sudden silence definitely had your parents getting concerned about you, since they were weren’t sure as to why you were suddenly so quiet and secluded from your family when you all used to be such a close family unit. Toge was the most concerned one out of everyone, so after he finally got home from his classes for the week, he had brought some some of the fruit tarts he knows you love from a nearby bakery.

Quietly he made his way to his baby sister’s room, knocking on the wooden frame of the shoji doors to let her know he was coming in. “Salmon?” He calls out curiously as he carefully pushes open the door to your room open, peeking his head in side. The sight of you curled up on your side on your bed, not even acknowledging that your brother had entered your room. Your lack of response does concern him; so he quietly set the box of tarts down on your bedside table before carefully setting down on the bed beside you. 

Quietly he reaches over to run his fingers through your soft hair, wordlessly giving you the comfort you didn’t know you were needing. Just a simple touch from someone who you have been trying to hide for so long definitely have your eyes watering. Wordlessly you turned to face your older brother, who just gave you an encouraging smile before he opens his arms for you. 

You launched yourself into his arms, and if he hadn’t been waiting for it to happen, he would have fallen back from the sheer force of the hug. Any normal person would have asked you hundreds of questions that will frankly make you feel worse, but Toge was just a pro at understanding you without you needing to say a word.

He might not know just what is it that got you so upset in the first place, and just how much seeing him in your room made you feel a little less lonely; but he wordlessly just wraps his arms around you, pressing soft kisses on the top of your head wordlessly as you soaked his shirt with your tears. It breaks his heart that you were going through the pains of having to live with something that you didn’t choose to have.

But if all you need was someone to lean on, he just wants wants you know that he’s here no matter what.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[mahalshairyballs]

MoonKnight playlist Pt7

For this part, those songs don't have all lyrics that fit, except maybe for the first one.

Here you can find the first parts with the first songs

Here are Part 5 & Part 6

Help - Hurts

This is pretty much a Marc/Layla song. It could work for any of them when they're feeling particularly down with their partner helping (Steven/Layla, Steven/Marc, Jake/Layla, Jake/Duchamp) but not for all lyrics. The best fit is still Marc/Layla for this song.

'Take my hand and lead the way

Out of the darkness and into the light of the day

And take me somewhere I'll be safe

Carry my lifeless body away from the pain

'Cause I know what I've been missing

And I know that I should try

But there's hope in this submission

And there's freedom in your eyes

And we cry for help

I'm sick and tired of being afraid

If I cry anymore then my tears will wash me away,

But when I hear you call my name

I whisper the word that I never thought I'd ever say

And I hope to god you'll listen

And you'll keep me safe from harm

'Cause I found what I was missing

When I fell into your arms

[...]

I can feel the darkness coming

And I'm afraid of myself

Call my name and I'll come running

'Cause I just need some help

[...]

.

The Outsider - A Perfect Circle

This would be either a Jake talking to Marc song or even a Marc thoughts about himself song.

help me if you can

It's just that this is not the way I'm wired,

so could you please help me understand

Why you've given in to all these reckless dark desires

You're lying to yourself again,

Suicidal imbecile

Think about it,

You're pounding on a fault line

What it'll take to get it through you (precious)

I'm over this,

why do you wanna throw it away like this ?

Such a mess, why would I want to watch you ?

Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time

What's your rush now,

Everyone will have his day to die

Medicated, drama queen

[...]

They were right about you

[...]

Lying to my face again

[...]

If you choose to pull the trigger,

Should your drama prove sincere

Do it far away from here'

.

A Pain that I'm Used To - Depeche Mode

This is a Marc song, but not a ship song. I think it could work as a Steven talking to Marc song during the show ? Or maybe Marc talking to Jake ? Depending on the lyrics

'I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore

I just know that I'm harder to console

I don't see who I'm trying to be instead of me

But the key is a question of control

[...]

All this running around, well it's getting me down

Just give me a pain that I'm used to

I don't need to believe all the dreams you conceive

You just need to achieve something that rings true

Can you say what you're trying to play anyway?

I just pay while you're breaking all the rules

[...]

There's a hole in your soul like an animal

With no conscience, repentance, oh no

[...]

I can't conceal what I feel, what I know is real

No mistaking the faking, I care

With a prayer in the air, I will leave it there

On a note full of hope not despair

[...]

.

Put it On Me - Matt Maeson

This song I actually found via another Moon Knight fan, and it was for a sub!Marc story, so I had to take it!

It's a Marc/Layla song, but it's more of a 'Marc thinking about her and their relationship' song, with his distorted views of it.

'Hung high and dry, where no one can see

If there's no one to blame, blame it on me

Storm in the sky, fire in the street

If there's nothin' but pain

Put it on me

You are the cold inescapable proof

You are the evil, the way and the life and the truth

[...]

And I watch in wonder

[...]

I know that you'll never feel like I do

And I break into pieces right in front of you

And I'd burn down the city

And string up the noose

And you watch in

[...]

.

Unconditional - Matt Maeson

This is also a Marc/Layla song, but softer this time.

[...]

So maybe love was always near

Maybe love needs the fear

Well maybe live is a broken thing,

Maybe love needs nothing

(So I chain smoke the pack in Salt Lake City)

And your voice sounds the same when I'm alone

(...)

Oh and I came to tears thinking of her

Oh and darling I know that I haven't told you,

But you mean more to me that you must know

But my head's full of fear

And my heart of sorrow

But when I'm patient enough

You've always said go

[...]

It's carrying you, it's carrying you

Don't let it go, I'm so far away

[...]

.

Fury Oh Fury - Nico Vega

This song could fit for Marc's rage/thirst for vengeance, but with the music vibe it could maybe also fit for Jake ?

'My fire is wild

My rage is deep

One black eye

Busted teeth

Feel my furry!

Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

[...]

Feel my pulse

My heart beats

So I hold it back

[...]

And then I tapped into a feeling that I could not ignore

[...]

Oh fury, oh fury, don't you misguide me

I need my wits to set me free

[...]

.

Here you go. That was all the news ones I have for now !

Here you can find the first parts with the first songs

Here are Part 5 & Part 6

[tobias-hankel]

I Can’t Lose You

Summary: The team find out about Hotch and Spencer dating after the first time Hotch couldn’t keep his professionalism.  Rating T, Spencer Reid/Aaron Hotchner

Prompt: General #23 - “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” with Hotchreid/Heid for 700 follower drabble.

Word Count: 1697

--

Neither Hotch nor Spencer were sure when it happened.

Whether it happened after their interview with Charles Hardwick, after the nights they spent in the same hotel room in Alaska, after Spencer confided in Hotch about his migraines in Miami or after Hotch saw just how great Spencer was with children during the case with Sammy Sparks.

Whenever it was, it didn’t matter. The two had fallen for each other and they had fallen hard.

They spent as much time as possible together. Going on dates, going out with Jack, even moving in together, all while hiding their relationship from the team.

They weren’t trying to be dishonest to their friends but it was just easier without so many hands involved. They didn’t have to worry about jokes, side eyes, or disapproving comments about Hotch being Spencer’s boss.

Hotch and Spencer kept their work relationship the same. There was no special treatment or reason for concern.

That was until a case that took the team to New York.

The BAU team was after an unsub who they believed to have schizophrenia and to be having a break from reality.

After four days of hard work, they had the identity of the unsub and were heading to make an arrest. As everyone was heading to the SUVs, Hotch pulled Spencer into a side room in the police station.

“Are you okay?” He asked, taking advantage of the empty room by leaning into Spencer, holding him by his hips and pulling him in. “You can stay here for the take down, if you need.”

Spencer sighed, “You worry too much. Just because the unsub has schizophrenia doesn’t mean anything.” Spencer gave Hotch a chaste kiss before moving back from his embrace, “Besides, I am the most trained on talking down someone in a psychotic break.”

Hotch chuckled at the smugness in his boyfriend’s voice, “I have no doubts in your abilities, baby. I just wanted to make sure.” Hotch gave his shoulder a squeeze before dropping his smile and gaining his stoic disposition back. “Let’s head out then, Reid.”

“Of course, sir.” Spencer said, unable to hide his smile as well as Hotch.

--

The take down did not go as planned.

The unsub, Shawn Smith, ran from the team as they entered his house and he ran into a neighbor’s home, taking a young woman hostage with a knife to her throat.

Hotch and Spencer entered the home first, followed by Morgan, Rossi, and Emily a minute later.

“Shawn, listen to me. It will be okay, but we need you to put the knife down.” Spencer started, putting his own gun away and raising his hands to show that he came in peace.

“No! No, I can’t!” The unsub yelled back at him, pushing the large knife he was holding up against the woman’s neck. “No! Leave me alone!” He yelled again but this time it was in the direction of an empty spot beside him.

Spencer took a step closer, “Shawn, we can help you. I can make them go away, but you have to trust me.”

Shawn shook his head roughly, “No! No one can! He never goes away!”

“Just let the woman go and I promise you I can make him go away. He will never bother you again.” Spencer took another step forward.

“Reid..” Hotch warned from behind him but Spencer ignored him.

“Just let go of the woman, Shawn.” He said quietly, trying to show that he was not a threat.

The unsub studied Spencer’s face, “Are you sure?”

“I promise, I will make him go away and never come back.” Spencer said. He knew the promise was a lie, but it seemed to be working.

Shawn loosened the grip on the woman before letting his arm that was holding the knife fall to his side. The woman jumped away from the unsub and pushed herself towards Emily, who tucked an arm around her and ushered her out of the door.

Spencer took one more step towards Shawn, “Great work, Shawn. Now I just need you to drop the knife, okay?” Shawn wasn’t listening though. He was looking over at the empty area next to him as he did earlier. “Shawn.. Let’s go get you—”

Spencer’s words were cut off by Shawn suddenly moving forward and stabbing Spencer directly in the side of the stomach, in between the straps of his bullet proof vest.

The sound of Spencer crying out in pain was completely covered up by the sound of gun shots. Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi all fired at the same time with Hotch making a headshot, killing Shawn instantly.

Shawn’s body had barely touched the ground before Hotch was next to Spencer, who was now laying on the ground as well.

“Spencer, Spencer!” Hotch cried out, holding his love in his arms. Spencer moved his arm to pull the knife out of his lithe body but Hotch stopped him, “No, you know you can’t touch it.”

Spencer was already feeling weak, so he didn’t put up a fight, instead he groaned out, “Aaron.. I’m sorry..”

Hotch moved Spencer’s hair out of his face, “No, baby. You did everything right. You are perfect.” He could hear the team moving around him. Morgan calling for a medic, Rossi checking Shawn’s body for any signs of life, but Hotch didn’t care. The last thing he was worried about was who might find out the two were dating. He couldn’t tare his eyes off Spencer.

Hotch looked down at the blood flowing out of Spencer’s torso, spilling onto Hotch’s lap and the floor. Hotch felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

Spencer can’t die. He just can’t.

“The medics are coming Spencer; you will be okay.” Hotch tried to comfort Spencer but he noticed his eyes folding closed, “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”

Spencer fought to keep his eyes open, but he was failing fast. His body was feeling cold and starting to become numb. “I—I love y-you..” Spencer forced out.

“I love you so much, Spencer. Keep your eyes open, baby. Please.” Tears were now running down Hotch’s face. He couldn’t bare the thought of loosing another love and he had never loved anyone like he loved Spencer.

Haley was his first love, his high school sweetheart, the mother of his child, and he would always feel love for her, but Spencer was his soulmate. He wasn’t sure if he even believed in such a thing, but that was the best way to describe how he felt for the dying young man in his arms.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed again but this time, they didn’t open back up. “Spencer, Spencer! Please, baby! Wake up!” Hotch yelled desperately.

Just then three medics ran into the room, surrounding Spencer. “Sir, please let go of him so we can work.” One EMT said but Hotch ignored him, continuing to cry out for Spencer.

Rossi came up behind Hotch, “Aaron, come on. You need to let him go.” He said, tugging on Hotch’s arm, who reluctantly let go of his unconscious boyfriend but didn’t take his eyes off him.

The medical team got to work, checking Spencer’s pulse, trying to stop the bleeding on his side and loading him onto the stretcher. Spencer was unconscious but he still had a pulse, thankfully.

Hotch didn’t even bother to say anything to the team as he jumped into the back of the ambulance once Spencer was put inside. His mind was lost in the thought of Spencer dying.

Please, be okay…

--

When Spencer opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Hotch sleeping in a chair beside him. He was sore and confused, but he knew he was in a hospital. He was familiar with the sounds and smells of hospital rooms by now.

“Hey, pretty boy. You’re up!” Morgan said from the doorway, surprising him.

“Wha—Oh.. hey.” Spencer said with a hoarse tone.

Morgan pulled a water bottle out of the grocery bag he was holding and cracked it open for Spencer, “Here. Small sips.”

Spencer sat up, gasping lightly at the pain in his side. He took a few sips before letting Morgan take the bottle back. “Thanks.. How long have I been asleep?”

“Almost two days. The knife nicked your kidney and liver and they had to remove your gallbladder, but the doc said you will be fine.” Morgan said before Spencer could ask. He then nudged his head in the direction of sleeping Hotch. “He has been here the whole time. He wouldn’t even leave to shower.”

Spencer turned his attention back over to Hotch and smiled. He was glad that Hotch wasn’t the one that got hurt.

“So, when were you gonna tell us?” Morgan said, pulling Spencer out of his thoughts.

“I—uhh.. I don’t know what you mean.”

Morgan chuckled, “Drop the act, kid. Besides the fact that we heard you both say you loved each other, Hotch already told us.”

Spencer sighed, “We were going to tell you all. We were just nervous on how the team would react.”

“Well, we are all going to be gearing up our shovel talks but.. Does he treat you right?”

Spencer nodded, “Of course.”

“Does he make you happy?”

Spencer smiled and looked back at Hotch, “More than I thought possible.”

Morgan grinned, “Good. Then it’s not anyone else’s business.” Just then Hotch started to stir awake, and Morgan took it as his cue to step out, “I’m going to tell the doctor you’re up.”

Morgan was barely out of the door before Hotch jumped up, “Spencer! You’re up. How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but not too bad for being stabbed and almost dying.” Spencer smirked as if it were a joke before adding, “Thank you for staying with me.”

“I will always stay with you, Spencer but do not do that again.”

“No promises.” Spencer laughed, causing him to cringe in pain again.

Hotch moved closer to Spencer and held his hand, “Really.. I don’t think I would live through losing you. I love you so much, Spencer.”

“I love you more, Aaron.”

--

For @ssa-sarahsunshine! I feel like this is trash but I really hope you like it 😂😁 Thank you! 🖤

[the-silentium]

11

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reincarnation!Reader

Words: 2755 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, mention of torture, swearing, angst.

Requested by: @asphodelshare​

Hi! I read your Five fics and I like your style of writing! If it’s not too much to ask, could you write one where Five had to leave the reader back in the 2019 Apocalypse bc he didn’t have a choice. He then sees her 1963 counterpart, she doesn’t know him and he tries to stop himself from reconnecting w/ her but he can’t help himself. It’s up to you if it’ll end on a happy note or an angsty one! Xx

A/N: The Eternals are my personal touch, so I guess this should be considered an AU of some sort. I'm sure this wasn't what you thought would happen, I'll be frank, it wasn't what I thought either 😂 The end just wrote itself! And it wasn't what I had planned. Ouups. 

He tried. Really, he tried. Ever since the first time he saw you walking in the street wearing a school uniform, a school bag hanging loosely on your shoulder and a lunchbox in hand, Five had had a hard time resisting his need to run to you and hug your form with all his might. Granted, Five had no proof that the girl walking away from him was this time-line version of you, she could simply be a perfect replica of your 15 years old self with the same habit of drawing on her school furniture, the same bright smile and the same bewitching laugh. Yes, she was just a replica. A too perfect replica. 

Five forced his legs to take him away from her walking form and tried to push the girl at the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on his task to stop the new apocalypse and return back in 2019 where he left you. 

It never was in the plan to let you die under the meteor shower that ravaged the Earth, if anything you were at the top of his list of people he had to save. Unfortunately Five came to the conclusion that the past was a place way too dangerous for you to venture, add this to the Commission who would surely double down their effort to kill the Hargreeves and whoever helped them, your chances of dying in the past were way too high for his liking. The boy would never be able to live with himself if you were to die permanently in the past and not for only a few days in 2019. 

For a whole day, Five managed to forget about the girl and his feelings altogether. Alongside Diego, he broke into their father's company building and discovered some precious information. The part of the night involving the younger Pogo let him a bitter taste in his mouth but it didn't stop him in the slightest. Back at Morty's, Five was almost surprised to find his brother still breathing on the couch, his new partner in crime cauterizing his bullet-wound. 

"Did you cut yourself shaving? I can teach you to shave like a big boy." Sighing the boy put a gaze to the bleeding scratches burning his neck. All he could hope now was that Pogo didn't give him Herpes B. 

"No, I just ran into an old family friend." Five turned around towards the kitchen in hope of finding a perfectly brewed coffee pot. He groaned in disappointment when he noticed that not only was the coffee pot empty, but Elliott wasn't tied in the chair anymore. 

"You untied him?" Five shot Lila a brief glance before returning his attention to his surroundings, listening attentively to any sound allowing him to pin-point the man's location. 

"No. Was I supposed to?" 

Ignoring her question, Five made his way to the rooms down the hallway. He never ventured there before, he assumed that the three doors lead to a bedroom and some storage rooms filled with conspiracy theories just like the living room. Turns out he was partially right. 

Elliott's bedroom was empty, the bed still undone. The next door opened on a black room with pictures hanging on the walls and dyeing material placed neatly. 

From behind the last door, Five could hear two distinct muffled voices. He recognized the first one as Elliott's but the second one made him frown in concentration. It sounded familiar even though he never really talked to anyone from this time-line other than Lila and Elliott. 

Confused, Five opened the door, not prepared at all to see you standing in front of a seated Elliott, the two of you arguing in hushed voices. The cracking door alerted you, your angry gaze instantly found him, standing in your doorway with his mouth slightly opened in shock like an idiot. 

Five gulped as you made your way to him, there was no way that she wasn't you. Not only did she look exactly like you, but her pissed-off expression was the same as the you he knew. Your fists were tight at your sides, no doubt giving you the courage to not back down before him, your furrowed brows created little wrinkles that Five desperately wanted to ease away by a light stroke of his fingers and your eyes. Oh your eyes. How he had missed their spark. 

“Who are you?” You harshly asked while poking his chest with your delicate finger. 

Five had a hard time keeping his arms to his sides, preventing them from pulling you into a tight hug that you were sure to hate. Instead, he breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his frantic heart. “E- What are you doing here?” He mentally cursed the slight waver in his voice, then again, you tended to have that effect on him. 

“I live here. Why are you here?” 

He was at a loss of words and couldn't help but stare at you in disbelief. You lived here?

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Elliott stood up, his anxiety showing in the form of a hand scratching the back of his neck. “This is my daughter Y/N. Y/N this is- this is- eh. He’s one of them.” 

You even had the same name! It finally clicked into Five's head. He had heard of the rare phenomenon back in his days at the Commission, someone extremely important to the balance of the time-line would reincarnate after each one of their deaths to keep the time-line on track. Those very few, only eight in the whole world, were constantly chased by the Commission who in the beginning tried to discover the secret of their perpetual rebirths but then changed their goal to killing them as soon as they could when they discovered that the reincarnations could remember their past and future lives. Five had always thought that the Eternals, as the Commission called them, were just a story created by bored time analysts to kill time. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, a small smile slipped out of his control at the perspective that this was really you right in front of him, his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime and the object of his affection. 

“The name’s Five.” So far you didn’t seem to remember him. Maybe you were too young or it was too soon. He had no idea how your condition worked.

"I don't care, asswad. You and your friends tied my father to a chair-" Five's heart stopped at the insult modern you used to call him all the time when his shitty attitude managed to get on your nerves. As much as he hated the nickname, he couldn’t help the rush of excitement he felt when he heard it. You may be starting to remember your future even if you were unaware of it.

"He tried to shoot us." Five deadpanned quickly remembering why they tied the man in the first place. 

"You are in our house!"

"He invited us in." Okay, this one was a lie. Five had space-jumped in first, but then Elliott hadn't kicked him out so he would consider it as an invitation to stay.  

"Dad!" You turned to the embarrassed grown-up, disbelief written all over your face. 

Five decided to let them argue alone and go control his ever growing feelings somewhere else, preferably somewhere you were not. Walking back to the kitchen to finally make himself some coffee, Five thought about how he could help you remember who you were- no, will be. 

“What’s the beeping?” Lila’s voice broke through his reasoning, catching his attention when she poked the computer screen. 

Five made his way toward the machine, a grin stretching his lips. “Vanya.” In a second he jumped away, carrying on with his plan to gather his siblings.

It was only two days later that he saw you next. You were eating your breakfast while quickly scribbling on a poor paper sheet, your foot bouncing rapidly on the floor as the seconds passed. Five was watching you over his warm cup of coffee, swiftly averting his gaze whenever you would lift yours. An elbow hit his shoulder, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall on the floor, wasting his precious black liquid. 

“What?” Five snapped at Luther after making sure his drink didn’t spill over his hand. 

“Why is Y/N here?” His whispering was not subtle at all although luckily for the blue-eyed boy, the sizzling eggs covered the excessive sound. 

Five went to his brother’s side, turning his back to you in the meantime. “She’s not the same Y/N. Well, she is but-” He groaned at the complexity of the situation. His brother would definitely not understand, so he went with the easy way out. “Long story short, this is her past life. Now stop talking abou-” 

“Oh, hey even your little girlfriend made it here.” Diego joined the conversation without a care in the world. He grabbed a plate along with some toast before dropping them at Five’s outburst.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He could feel his body heating up despite his best efforts. 

All three of them tensed for their own reasons yet they all not so subtly turned their heads in your direction. If looks could kill, they would definitely be at the verge of death. 

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Five just received his killing blow. 

You hurriedly grabbed your bag under the table and rushed out of the room, paper in hand. The silence following your exit permitted your last words to bounce in his head, hurting his feelings like nothing before. If he could gauge the pain he felt at this right moment on a scale of 1 to 10, he would say that without a doubt this was a 10. 

What you said was the plain truth. In any lives of yours did you and him became a thing. It didn’t stop the fact that after all these years suppressing his romantic attraction toward you, Five had nurtured the hope that maybe one day, you two could be more than friends. Today this hope just blew up in his face, mauling his heart in the process.

So in the blink of an eye, the boy disappeared from the kitchen to live his pain alone, away from prying eyes and the pity of his brothers. 

Later that same day, Five was nursing his seventh cup of steaming coffee of the day when someone sat next to his own spot on the second floor, legs dangling in the air where the floor stopped to show the once TV shop. He sipped on his coffee as an attempt to show them that he wasn’t interested in the slightest in what they had to say, needless to say that it didn’t work. He should be used by now, it never worked.

“I’m impressed that you didn’t die from a heart attack or something. Your blood pressure should be pretty high with all the coffee that you drink in a day.” He nearly choked on his sip when your soft voice reached his ears. 

He turned to you, baffled to see you smirking at him. Not angry. Not annoyed. Playful. "You know, if you weren't from the future and weren’t endangering my father by your mere presence here, I would have loved to be your friend." 

Just when Five thought that he couldn’t be surprised anymore! "How do yo-?"

"Klaus doesn't stop talking about how he misses youtube." The boy sighed, clearly his brother couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He wondered if sewing his mouth shut would suffice to shut him up for good. Knowing Klaus, he would definitely find a way to express himself without his mouth. “Also I remember you, asswad.” You bumped his shoulder with yours before crossing your arms on the railing before you and resting your head on them. 

His eyes went wide, the meaning of your words slowly registering into his brain. He turned to you, trying in vain to not get his hopes up about your remembrance. A very genuine smile stretched your lips, making Five almost drop his mug on the floor below. He then realized that if you could remember your future life, then you surely remembered your future death and with it, how Five abandoned you to your demise. Guilt pulled at his heart at imagining what you went through because of him and fear darkened his heart at the thought that not only your past self would hate him but your modern self too. 

Something on his cheek caught his attention, the delicate stroke of your fingers awoke a fire under his skin when he noticed your gesture and the concerned frown disturbing your perfect features. This time around he couldn’t stop himself and reached forward, smoothing the creased skin with a light brush of his fingertips. 

“I’m sorry.” His hand dropped in defeat at his side, his gaze fleeing yours. 

“What for?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I abandoned you to die.” His voice was so small, saying it aloud made him doubt his choice. He closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears away, his remorses started eating him alive. 

You moved closer and took the mug out of his hand when it was within your reach. You disposed of it before wrapping your arms around his waist and put your chin on his shoulder. He didn’t open his eyes, instead closing them tighter to the point that he started to see stars dance behind his eyelids. 

“You.” You blowed on the side of his face. Once. Twice. “Hey you. Open your eyes.” You sighed when he merely relaxed his facial muscles but kept his eyes shut. “I understand you know? You had to. I’m not mad.” 

You proceeded to poke his cheek when the absence of reaction on his part was starting to get on your nerves. “I’m talking to you, asswad!”

You gasped when Five suddenly turned his head to the side and connected his lips to yours with force. His hands found the side of your face to keep you close when his lips moved with yours in a desperate motion, as if you would vanish at any seconds. At one point, the kiss stopped tasting coffee, a salty taste replacing the strong addicting aroma.

Slowly Five pulled away to discover tears running down your cheeks. His first reaction was to close his hands into fists wanting to jump away and remove his damned heart from his chest with his bare hands. As the blue waves flowed around his fists, your lips stretched in a smile stealing his breath. 

"Took you long enough." Your almost imperceptible whisper was so loud in his ears. 

A smile mirroring your own formed on his face, he was beyond the moon all the while asking himself how he could have been so stupidly blind to your feelings. 

"We got there, that's what's important." You hummed in agreement before repositioning your head on his shoulder and contemplating what next. 

A few days passed and Five along with his siblings met their father. Needless to say that it went down pretty quickly. For some odd reason, Five found himself thinking that it could have been worse. Someone could have died. Or hurt. Everyone was in one piece if we didn't count Diego's soul. 

Space-jumping back at Morty's, Five thought that he was horribly wrong. Elliott's body laid in a chair obviously having been tortured before being executed. As much as the boy wanted to feel bad for the man who played such a great role helping him reach his goal, every thought that passed through his mind was directed at you. 

Five yelled your name before jumping from room to room before he noticed a crimson red trail leading to the black room. 

His shaking hand grabbed the handle of the slightly opened door, pushing it with a shaky breath escaping his lungs. 

If it wasn't of your school uniform you were wearing, Five couldn't have said for sure that this broken body was yours. The obvious torture you went through got him on his knees, water pooling from his eyes like two rivers. 

He was wrong. So dearly wrong. This, right now, was the worst pain he ever felt. He didn't even have to open his chest to relieve himself of his excruciating pain for his heart had completely stopped at the agony scaled to 11.

[half-bakedboy]

i'm not bullet proof (when it comes to you) (read on ao3)

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: Teen Summary: Every instinct inside of him told him he needed to protect Buck. He was on the other side of the truck, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth proudly from heel to toe. Eddie had gotten out to go see him. Buck had complimented him, made Eddie blush until he had to walk away before he said something dumb. Buck was—

Where was Buck? Even though it was broad daylight in the middle of the city, not in the darkest hours of the Middle East, there was another gunshot, and he thought he heard Buck scream.

“Get down! Everyone down! Firefighter down!” A voice had shouted, but it wasn’t Buck. Where was Buck?

Speculation for Season 4 Episode 13: Suspicion (contains spoilers from the promo)

Eddie’s ears were ringing. He could hear the distant sounds of sirens but he didn’t remember turning them on when he had left the truck. He didn’t need to turn the sirens on because they had saved the little boy and the emergency was no longer that. They had done their job and everyone was safe and—

Gunshot. He thought he heard a gunshot, barely, too far away for it to fully register in his mind. He wasn’t sure at first if that was what the soft pop was because he was in L.A. He wasn’t overseas and he wasn’t in the line of enemy fire. He had rescued his team, dead and alive, and they had been flown to safety. They were back with their families and he was back with Christopher. He didn’t need to protect anyone in L.A.

Buck. Every instinct inside of him told him he needed to protect Buck. He was on the other side of the truck, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth proudly from heel to toe. Eddie had gotten out to go see him. Buck had complimented him, made Eddie blush until he had to walk away before he said something dumb. Buck was—

Where was Buck? Even though it was broad daylight in the middle of the city, not in the darkest hours of the Middle East, there was another gunshot, and he thought he heard Buck scream.

“Get down! Everyone down! Firefighter down!” A voice had shouted, but it wasn’t Buck. Where was Buck?

Eddie tried to move, but his body was on fire and there was a heavy weight pressed against his chest. He reached to push it away, but his hand only swatted through the air. What was holding him down? He ran his fingers up his chest and along his neck, knowing before he could even pull them into view that they were covered in blood. His mind was fuzzy, his vision foggier than he remembered it to be, and when he tried to call out for help, no pleas left his scratchy throat.

Gunshot. Buck. Firefighter down.

He turned his head away from where the sun was glaring down at him, focusing on the familiar redness of the firetruck and hoping it would calm his rapidly beating heart. His eyes drifted from the window, shattered from what he could only assume was a missed bullet, down to the silver metal that spanned across the front of the truck. His mind clouded while he stared at the bumper and he couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping to the cement that was covered in blood. His blood, if he had to guess.

Underneath the truck, he could see Buck. He was lying on his stomach, a hand covering the back of his head while he reached out frantically, clawing at the clean cement in front of him. Eddie could see his lips moving, the way his eyebrows creased in panic and his eyes widened in fear, the redness of his face mixed with the splatter of blood on his neck.

Buck was hurt and Eddie had to get to him. He tried to move but he couldn’t. How could he protect Buck if he couldn’t move?  

Then Buck was crawling toward him and Eddie held his hand out, fingers reaching for solace in his best friend’s. Buck was getting closer, dragging himself across the pavement, underneath the truck like a shield. A bullet clanged above Eddie’s head, destroying the perfectly polished metal and sending shards of it flying in every direction. Buck was covering his head again and that was good. That meant he could be safe. He had stopped moving which meant he wouldn’t be in the line of fire.

Eddie had to protect Buck, save Buck, make sure that Buck was okay. That was his only priority.

“Back,” Eddie choked out as Buck tried to move toward him again. “Stay back!” Eddie yelled as best he could. The intensity of his words caused his mouth to sour with the taste of blood and he knew that wasn’t a good sign. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the pesky liquid that stopped him from warning Buck away and spat on the pavement beside him.

“Let me help you!” Buck screamed. The terror was clear in his voice and it did nothing to lessen the worry that continued to flood through Eddie.

He wasn’t sure if he could feel his legs. He could see his toes wiggling and his fingers trembled from where they stretched out for Buck again, but he had gone numb. Numb wasn’t good. Numb was far from what he should be.

He vaguely registered the hand around his wrist before he was being pulled underneath the truck and tucked firmly against Buck. The move jerked him out of the black hole his mind had pulled him into for protection against the worst pain he had ever felt that blasted through his core. He screamed in agony and he was sure the wetness of his face was from tears of misery. He thrashed and tried to sit up until he realized that only made it worse and Buck slid an arm across his chest to keep him steady. The solid weight was welcome and when focused enough, he could feel the warmth of Buck surrounding him.

He was safe so he let his eyes drift close, the noise around him deafening until everything went silent.

__________________________

“Stay with me, Eds, stay with me. Hey, that’s it. Open your eyes for me.” He awoke to Buck’s voice.

He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep or why his head was pounding or why he couldn’t move his body. He was strapped down to what he assumed was a backboard with Buck straddling his waist, his hands pressed to Eddie’s chest, their placement instantly recognizable. That and the way Buck huffed above him meant that Buck had just given him CPR - which meant that Buck had probably started his heart again.

He also realized that the pain surging through his abdomen was from the broken ribs Buck would have inevitably given him. He blinked rapidly, trying to take in his surroundings, his mind trying to puzzle the pieces of the last few minutes together. They were still outside the same building, the firetruck glowing brightly beside them. There was still blood on the pavement in more spots than he remembered, but people in uniforms of all kinds were stomping through it.

“Buck,” Eddie tried to say through the burn in his throat, gathering the strength he could muster to grip Buck’s bicep weakly.

“Hey, don’t talk,” Buck instructed. He must have seen Eddie’s confusion and panic because he moved his hands to cup Eddie’s face, leaning a little closer so they could focus on each other. “We almost lost you there for a minute. Don’t scare me like that, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You got shot, but I’m sure you’ve already figured that out. We don’t know what happened. One second things were fine and the next—”

Buck was babbling, a symptom of his fear, Eddie guess, so he choked out, “You okay?” He rested his hand on the blood dripping down Buck’s neck, lamely attempting to check him for injury through his own anguish.

“What did I tell you about talking. We just got your neck all bandaged up, okay? So you have to stop talking,” Buck pleaded. “Now I know how you feel around me, huh?” Buck teased but the joke was lost in the fear so prominent in Buck’s eyes as he leaned into Eddie’s touch. Eddie’s arm dropped down again because he couldn’t hold it up any longer.

“I—“ Eddie began but then he felt like he was drowning.

Why was he so weak? How bad was it? How could he make Buck look less destroyed at that moment? Was Buck going to be okay? Would he be okay?

His mind reeled with questions, all of them thwarted by the hot liquid filling his throat. He ignored the fact it was probably blood, turning his head abruptly to spit onto the already bloodstained pavement beside him. He could feel his heart slow from where Buck’s pressed against it and his lungs didn’t seem to want to take in the air he inhaled.

“Eddie, please, just stay still. Stop talking, stop moving, stop— No, no, no!” Buck shouted, “You’ve gotta stay awake, okay? You have to stay alive, Eddie. You just saved that little boy and Christopher is going to be so proud of you, just like we are.”

Eddie was safe with Buck above him, so he allowed his eyes to start drifting closed again.

Buck begged and pleaded, but Eddie couldn’t take the pain anymore. His mind hazed even as Buck pressed his lips to his forehead and whispered, “Stay alive for me.”

Eddie wasn’t sure that he could, but for Buck, he would try.

__________________________

There were flashes of bright lights. The sounds of electricity crackling above him. The smell of blood and iodine. The metallic taste he wasn’t sure would ever leave his mouth. He couldn’t feel his fingers, his body still numb, but his awareness of his other senses comforted him. He was hurt, that much he could feel, and if he had to guess, he would open his eyes and be in a hospital room.

Where was Buck?  

He couldn’t get the question out of his mind. He had asked it too many times to count. Where was Buck? Was he okay? He had blood on his neck from what Eddie could briefly recall. Was he hurt? Did he get help or did he just help Eddie? Was anyone else hurt? What the hell happened?  

“Hey, you gotta calm down, Mr. Diaz. Your heart rate shouldn’t be this elevated so soon after surgery,” a soft voice comforted. Eddie took a deep breath, ignoring the way his entire body burned at the subtle movement of his chest, and finally focused on the nurse beside him.

“Buck—”

“Mr. Buckley is fine. He’s been asking about you every 15 minutes since you got here and annoying most of my coworkers, but he’s okay. We told him the same thing of you, but neither of you are good listeners, are you?” She said and Eddie knew he didn’t have to answer. “You two are quite the talk of the hospital,” she noted conversationally as she checked Eddie’s vitals. He gulped dryly, thankful when she gave him a small cup of water.

“What happened?” Eddie asked. He had more questions, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy to ask them let alone wait for their answer.

“We don’t know, honey. You were shot, that’s all the information I have. I’m sure that intimidating sergeant out there will have more for you when she comes in,” the nurse explained, patting the back of Eddie’s hand softly. He knew she must have been referring to Athena and he instantly felt better that Buck had someone out there with him.

“Can he—?” He couldn’t even finish his question, suddenly hit with an onslaught of fatigue from whatever the nurse had given him for the pain. She patted his uninjured shoulder and nodded.

“He’ll be in here when you wake up,” she said and the prospect of opening his eyes to Buck was enough reassurance for him to drift off again.

__________________________

“Yeah, Bobby, he’s already been up once… Christopher’s with Pepa. I let him know what was going on and he wanted to be here, but I convinced him to wait another day… I know, I know. He’s okay, I know.”

Eddie could hear Buck’s voice as he slowly pushed himself out of the cloud surrounding his mind.

“He almost wasn’t, Bobby, and I—” A long sigh left Buck’s lips and he brought Eddie’s hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of it as it was the most normal thing in the world. Eddie cleared his throat to speak and Buck whispered, “He’s up, I gotta— Yeah, I’ll tell him. You, too, Cap.”

“Bu—“ He couldn’t even get the name out before Buck made a noise somewhere between a laugh and sob that had panic arising in Eddie. “You’re okay?” Eddie asked because even staring at the man beside him wasn’t enough for him to believe it. He tried to pull his hand away to inspect Buck’s bandages on, but he couldn’t even try to remove his hand from Buck’s grip.

“I’m okay, but only because you’re okay,” Buck explained, kissing Eddie’s skin once more. “You know, I’ve decided that the only thing worse than almost dying is thinking you are dead,” Buck began, holding Eddie’s hand to his chest as tightly as he could. “This is the second time I’ve thought you were dead and honestly, one time was too many.”

“I’m good,” Eddie choked out. He was still struggling to speak, his vocal cords much weaker than he had ever remembered them being. He used his unoccupied hand to reach up to his shoulder where he had felt blood back when he was laying on the street, but Buck swatted it away as if protecting him.

“Bullet went through your shoulder. Sent a chip of your collarbone into your neck. It just missed your carotid but did a number on your vocal cords. The sniper must have thought they were shooting me,” Buck teased and Eddie shot him a look that he hoped warned Buck away from any ridiculous notion that he should’ve been the one to get hurt.

It already pained Eddie to know Buck had to be the one to keep him alive.

“Idiot,” he said with affection before he added, “thank you.”

“For nothing,” Buck responded quickly. “I would have thrown myself in front of you if it meant saving you, Eddie, you know that,” Buck noted and Eddie knew just how true that was. Eddie remembered Buck crawling toward him, putting himself in the crossfire of still flying bullets even after Eddie warned him away.

“Stop doing that,” Eddie pleaded, but Buck shook his head in response.

“If one thing became abundantly clear to me today, Eds, it’s that I will never stop putting you first. Seeing you lying there--” Buck shook his head and Eddie squeezed his hand to urge him to continue, “--it’s like you’ve always been just out of my reach and I don’t want that anymore. I can’t do that anymore.”

The implication of the words wasn’t lost on Eddie. They had been dancing around each other for weeks, months, maybe even years if Eddie thought about it. It was obvious to everyone around them, including themselves, that their relationship wasn’t as simple as coworkers, best friends, or partners. There had been an unwritten line between them that neither was willing to cross, both too scared for the future and what it could mean, what it could damage.  

The admission shocked Eddie more than the bullet had. He had always thought that Buck would never be the one to fully cross over, always allowing Eddie to be the one to control the ease and direction of their relationship, so to hear him erase the last of that nearly invisible line had his heart soaring.

“I don’t—“ Eddie coughed, burning pain rising through his entire body as he struggled for air. He could hear Buck calling for a nurse and felt their hands separating but he wouldn’t allow it. He pulled Buck back because he couldn’t allow him to move away again and risk him backpedaling his words. “I don’t want that either,” Eddie said through bated breaths as the same nurse from before pumped him with new medications. He sent her a grateful smile and her eyes shined back as she watched the two of them. Everyone always looked at them like that and for the first time, Eddie knew what they saw.

“Well, good. I’m glad we’ve, uh, cleared that up?” Buck squinted, his eyebrows furrowing as if he was still confused, and Eddie reached up to stroke the side of his face where the skin around his eyes had crinkled.

“We’ll talk,” Eddie promised, his hand falling only to be caught by Buck who entwined their fingers and brought them to his mouth again. He nodded before resting his head on Eddie’s lap, cradling Eddie’s hand against his chest as he let his own eyes fall shut. It couldn’t have been comfortable but he figured he wouldn’t be able to send Buck home even if he tried, and he wasn’t about to try. Instead, Eddie rested his other hand in Buck’s hair and gazed down at him until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Buck was there. He was mostly uninjured and holding onto Eddie as if nothing would ever make him let go.

Buck was safe, so Eddie was, too.

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now. 

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner. 

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate. 

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled. 

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped. 

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!” 

“6.” Austin corrected. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.” 

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view. 

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.” 

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad. 

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads. 

The doors were kicked in. 

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing. 

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person. 

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?” 

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack. 

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils. 

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines. 

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others. 

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be. 

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!” 

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected. 

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation. 

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you. 

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care. 

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute. 

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice. 

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!” 

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed. 

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in. 

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit. 

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.” 

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two. 

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath. 

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood. 

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands. 

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling. 

And falling. 

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared. 

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside. 

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!” 

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here? 

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone. 

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground. 

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson. 

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood. 

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance. 

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt. 

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster. 

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat. 

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage. 

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option. 

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.  

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up. 

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed. 

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you. 

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you. 

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was. 

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” 

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either. 

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?” 

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name. 

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it. 

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer. 

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy. 

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’” 

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion. 

You handed the gun back to Dutch. 

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!” 

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him. 

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.”  You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe. 

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table. 

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in. 

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!” 

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening. 

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact. 

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind. 

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman. 

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering. 

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky. 

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment. 

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.” 

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black. 

[imagination-is-key-in-my-world]

Lockdown

Authors Note: I am a British writer and luckily enough I have never actually had to experience something like this happening. I cannot imagine what it must be like. There is reference to the ‘shooting’ during the fanfiction, therefore, I do not blame anyone if they differ from reading this. Nothing is graphic and if anything it only gets mentioned for a small portion and there is no one hurt either. I would really like to do a part two. Let me know if anyone is interested.

Summary: It was just a normal day in Beacon Hills. Y/N and her friends were going about her business when a gun threat disrupted the balance of things. Strangers and potential foes grew closer as their lives hung in the balance.

Warning: Gun Threat, Swearing, Adult Language and Themes

Pairing: Reader x Stiles Stilinski

Word Count: 3,787

“You can not tell me that you didn’t just see that look he gave you?” Jackson brushed up against my side as I tried to jot down the new notes that Coach was terribly transcribing on the chalk board. I mean was that even spelt correctly, how did this man become a legal teacher?

“It is probably just in your head Jackson.” I counter.

“No he is seriously giving you the stink eye. What is McCall’s problem?”

I shrug him off as he is up to his typical shit stirring mode. Jackson and I are neighbours and long-time friends. Since I was nine, we were barely ever apart, we shared our biggest secrets with one another. Mine was that I am the daughter of two illusive demon hunters. I am the only person who knows that he has been pretending to be someone who he is not. Jackson has been in a secret relationship with Ethan. Deep down Jackson was a sweetheart. A sweetheart who cannot control his mouth or fists but Ethan and I are working on that.

“Come on Y/N!” He bumped my arm which made my hand jerk and my notes start to resemble that of Coach’s horrible penmanship. If there is one thing that I hate, its when my notes are not written one hundred percent perfectly. I slam down my pen and turn abruptly in my chair to face Jackson, which sparks some attention from the brunette boy on the table in front. He did not fully turn his head around which was lucky for me as my cheeks immediately go red from embarrassment.

“What is your problem Jackson?” I enquire, nostrils practically flaring which only invoked a chuckle from my best friend.

“Take that chip off of your shoulder and listen to me would you.” He countered as he pushed a note into my hand. “Read this and tell me you wish I left you to copy down that gibberish from the board.”

I huffed and started to carefully unfold the piece of paper. Coach didn’t really care if we showed up to the lesson, let alone if we were actually listening. I read it three times before I actually registered what the words were telling me.

Hey Y/N If you could would you be able to meet me in the west stairwell after 3rd period? You look really pretty today, btw    

“Jackson, who is this from?” The boy shrugged and dropped his head to focus on the words coming out of Coach’s mouth. “Don’t pretend like you care about what he is saying” I gesture to the shaggy haired man “now tell me at least who you got this from.”

Jackson pointed to Lydia who was not at all aware of the two pairs of eyes on her as she casually scribbled in her journal. “But I have no clue who had the note before her. It was probably that McCall.” He sneered. I exhale disappointedly, as much as Scott was a nice guy and all, I don’t want this to be from him. I do not have anything against the guy, he is just not someone who I would want to be interested in me. He seems to always be around trouble, and that is something I cannot be involved in.

“Why don’t you just go and see who it is. I will go with you and if it turns out to be McCall, I will rescue you.” He gave my hand a slight squeeze for reassurance and gazed down at my notebook. “By the way what did you get for number four?”

I laugh a little too loud which causes the brunette to turn around and give me a quick glance that I couldn’t translate in time before he was facing the front again. Again, my cheeks flared, the same way that they do every time his eyes meet mine. I shake the thought away and turn back to my friend. “Jackson, did you think this was a test the whole time? Number four is literally asking you to write down your height.”

 _____________________________________________________________

I was packing my stuff into my bag as the bell rang. “So, are you going to meet this mystery person?” Lydia enquired as I put my water bottle into the slot at the side of my bag, looping the strap over my one arm.

Lydia and I do not really talk, but considering she was my only lead on who this note could have been from, I bit the bullet and spoke to my lab partner. As we were filling the beakers with corrosive liquid, I came straight out with it. “So, about this note you handed to Jackson for me? Do you know who it was from?”

Lydia shook her head, a little startled that I asked her a question that wasn’t ‘can you pass me the pipette?’ “No, to be honest I can not even say who had passed me the note. When I looked down from the board it was just there lying on top of my journal. I am sorry Y/N, I wish I were able to help more but I honestly wouldn’t be able to say who gave it to me.”

I was a little discouraged by only knowing what I did during first period and it was now third. I was meant to meet this person in only a matter of minutes. Lydia and I continued to talk throughout the class. She was really nice to talk to, but I could sense that there was something about her that wasn’t normal. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something.

“I have no clue if I am going to go or not.” I admit, letting the anxiety slip in. It would be hard enough for me to go through with it even if I knew who it was I was going to meet up with. This person said I was ‘pretty,�� for all I knew this could be a joke. That’s all I needed, I was already the girl with all the ancient supernatural protection runes all over my person and possessions. My mum and dad are hunters, and I have been brought up in a world where I cannot go anywhere without some protection. The salt and holy water in my bag is proof of that.

“Well, I hope whoever it is, knows how amazing you are. If he doesn’t, he will have me to deal with.” She bumped my hip with hers and waved as she left the lab.

I picked up the last item on the table and turned to leave the classroom when I was knocked onto the floor, landing hard on my butt. At first, it felt as though I had walked straight into an invisible force field. Little had I registered that it was a person.

“Oh shit!” It was the brunette from this morning. ‘Dammit’ I thought. I could already feel my cheeks start to turn red. Why did this always have to happen. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to; I wasn’t looking where I was going.” The brunette boy bent down to help me up from the floor.

I brush off my jeans once I am back on my feet, avoiding making eye contact with the boy in front of me. He too looked really nervous as if this incident was his worst nightmare. “I- it’s o- okay.” I stutter. Really voice, of all the times you want to fail me, it’s now. “I w- was just going.” I try to walk past him when a blaring siren started ringing throughout the school.

Panic flashed across my face and his too. Everyone’s worst nightmare, a gun drill. The siren was one hundred percent recognisable. “Get down!” The brunette boy threw himself at me as I yet again landed flat on my backside but with him on top of me this time. We were both frozen for a couple of seconds, my eyes locked on his and it might sound girly, but I could literally lose myself in them.

Finally, he lifted himself up off me and slid underneath one of the tables. I copied and mirrored him under the table in front of his. “I’m sorry, I thought I saw someone walk past the window inconspicuously behind you. I just panicked.” His eyes searched my body, the way that I was now hugging my legs, resting my chin on top of my knees. “Oh God, did I hurt you?” Fear flooded his face at the thought that he may have caused me any pain.

I shake my head. “No.” I whisper. “I’m okay, thank you.” My hand instantly goes to play with the locket that hung around my neck.

“What’s that?” His eyes caught my fingers tracing the metal details.

I freeze. “What’s what?”

The brunette flicked his head towards the chain that was between my fingers.

“Oh, it’s a necklace my dad gave me, to protect me.”

The boy smiled. “That’s cool. My dad gave me a baseball bat to protect me.” I felt the corners of my lips rise into a slight smile.

“I bet you wish you had it now?” I enquire.

The boy sniggered. “If only a bat was an equal match.” I knew what he was on about. A bat could not compare to a gun. “Wanna know something funny?”

“Something funny would be great right about now.” I could feel my foot start to twitch the way that it did when my mum and dad were out on a hunt. Total and utter uselessness. I was a sitting duck.

“My dad once told me that I am always at the centre of some drama.” He let out a sigh. “That wasn’t really that funny was it?”

I shake my head but smile. “Your dad seems like a smart man.”

He smiled and raised a hand to ruffle his hair. God why did he look so good when he did that. “He has to be, I mean he is the sheriff.”

“You’re the sheriff’s son?” I question my eyes went wide in shock. I had heard a lot about this boy. He was best friends with Scott McCall and his dad is right, he always seemed to be in trouble.

He smiled beautifully if that were possible during a terrifying circumstance. “Yeah, you didn’t think it was a coincidence that I am called Stiles Stilinski and there would be no relation to Sheriff Stilinski?” His smile and baffled tone made me smile back at him. “It’s not as common as most surnames. I mean what’s yours?”

“Winchester.” I reply.

“Now that is not a common surname.” He leaned out from under the desk with his arm stretched out. I took his in return. “Nice to meet you Y/N Winchester.”

“You too Stiles Stilinski.” My eyes locked onto his and our hands clung to each other. It felt like we had been holding hands for hours, completely frozen in each other’s gazes.

Suddenly there was a loud pop that rang throughout the building. This tore our hands apart finally. I retreated under the table and moved my legs back up to my chest, creating a shield. Stiles did the same but did not take his eyes off me. I started gripping onto my locket as my breathing became more rapid. I was normally better at threats, my parents dealt with the supernatural world. They battled ghosts, demons, vampires and even werewolves and yet a civilian with a gun going around the school, finger on the trigger, changed me into a nervous wreck.

There was this scuffling noise and suddenly there were arms around me holding me tight. “Shh, its okay Y/N.” Stiles was holding onto me, trying his best to soothe my breathing down. “Breathe with me okay. Copy me. Y/N, you need to look at me.” His hands were either side of my face as he whispered to keep our location a secret. “You can do this. Ready?”

My eyes locked onto his, tear stains running down my cheeks. I watched him attentively as he took each breath. I copied never losing eye contact with those light brown eyes. “That’s it. One more time okay?” His thumb caressed my cheek as I nodded. My breathing finally falling back into place. I take my last breath and let it fall. “That’s it.”

I thought now that my breathing was back to normal that Stiles would release me, but he didn’t. He held his grasp onto my body and did not look away. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his voice getting caught in this throat. Part of me wanted to say yes, to pretend that I was this tough girl. But the boy had just seen me during a panic attack. Me saying that I was not okay wasn’t going to come to be that much of a surprise. I shake my head.

“It’s okay not to be okay sometimes.” I went to wipe a tear that was falling from my cheek but Stiles was there before I got a chance. “Do you want to know a secret?”

I nod, dropping my legs from my chest. “I’m afraid of a lot of things. My friends and I, we face a lot of scary things and for most of it, I feel like I will die. But the thing is, we could die. But that could happen any day and at any time. I believe that we live through the scariest moments in our lives so that we can tell people about them.”

“What was the scariest moment in your life?” I ask, my voice all croaky from holding back the tears.

“Well apart from this one?” He pauses as he gathers his thoughts. “The scariest moment in my life was the day that something possessed my best friend and it led him to almost commit suicide.” I gasp, shocked by what he had just confessed.

“What happened?” I have dealt with possessions before, that wasn’t the part that shocked me.

“Well we went on a school trip and there was something supernatural that had possessed my friends, they were driven to madness. Scott picked up a flare, he was covered in gasoline, it was all around him.” He broke off as his voice cracked. “I walked over to him and held his hand and the flare. I told him that if he needed to do it, then we were both going to go. I was and always will be by his side.”

I took his hand this time and I felt him jump. “I had no idea. I am so sorry that that happened.” Stiles was staring at our entwined hands.

“But the other scariest moment in my life was when I wrote you that note.” I felt a sharp thump to the chest. I was so stupid, how did I not know it was the cute boy who sat in front of me in practically every class that we had together. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” I respond. Stiles had not lifted his head since our hands connected.

“Were you going to come and meet me? I mean obviously before all of this happened.”

I stop and think. Was I? I hadn’t given that moment another thought since the siren went off. It felt like days ago I had been handed the note. “I don’t know.”

“Oh.” Stiles’ tone was defeated and sombre. His grip on my hand also weakened the minute my response registered. “I know it was a stupid thing to do. I just thought that if I was going to take a jump and finally try to ‘make my move’ as they say.”

“Stiles, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture-“

“It’s just you don’t like me. I get it. I actually get it a lot.” His head dropped and he tried to pull away. I feared that he was going to leave me alone under the table and return to his own.

“No stiles it wasn’t that-“

“Is it cause I’m weird looking? Dad and Scott say I look a little odd.” The boy was rambling.

“No you’re not weird looking-“

“Then it is because of the way I talk isn’t it?”

“No it-“

“It’s my clothes then isn’t it? I dress in a lot of tartan. You know some people say-“ I grab the boy, placing a hand behind his head I pull his lips towards my own. Stiles’ eyes widened the second my lips connected to his. But soon enough his hands drifted from his side and tied themselves in my hair pulling me deeper into the kiss. It was as if Stiles had come alive once we kissed. Our lips moved in time with each other almost as if they were made to do this and only this. The shy boy became more confident and definitely more dominant as his tongue lightly brushed my bottom lip. I let his tongue meet my own, and his moan vibrated against my mouth.

Our bodies moved in sync with each other. My one hand entwined in his hair while the other draped down his back. His were on my hip and the back of my neck as we both pushed ourselves closer together if that were possible.

When I broke the kiss, his pupils were wide in surprise and desire. “Why did you stop?” Stiles questioned, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“I would have met up with you Stiles.” I whisper into his ear. When I pull my head away from his neck his eyes were wider than they were when the kiss broke apart. “But maybe next time, you should author your notes, perhaps?”

A cheeky grin spread out across his face as my words registered. “Wait, does that mean I forgot to say it was from me, that you’d be meeting me.” I nod as the boy put the puzzle pieces together. “I am an idiot.” The boy slapped his own forehead at his carelessness. “Can I ask you another question?” I smile and nod. “Can we do that kiss again? I really liked it.”

The smirk on his face was enough for me to give into his charms. Before I could lean in, Stiles had grabbed me by my hips and pulled me onto his lap. I hooked my arms around his neck and allowed his lips to connect with mine, his hands firmly on the space between my hips and my ass. It was a bit of a squeeze under the table, the top of my head was rested on base of the table. I was aware that I may have gum in my hair because of this, but I didn’t care. Hearing his moans as my hands trailed from the back of his neck and down his spine was enough for me to crumble within his arms.

Stiles’ lips drifted away from my own but instantly connected into the crook of my neck. This time it was my turn to let out a moan. “Stiles.” I sighed when he hit the right spot and began to suck on it with his hot breath spreading across my skin.

Both of us jumped apart when we heard a cough from the front of the lab. There stood Scott McCall. I was just thankful that it wasn’t Coach or any other member of the School Faculty. I looked back at Stiles who for once didn’t seem happy to see his best friend. “Not exactly what we were taught to do during a school shooting, Stiles.” He nodded towards me “Y/N, Jackson is worried about you, he said you were not answering your phone.”

Stiles detangled me from his lap and helped me to my feet in front of the table rather than being under it as we had previously been.

I pulled out my phone and funny enough there was sixteen missed calls from Jackson and twenty-two messages from him as well as a couple from my own father. Not cool Jackson do not get my dad involved in this.

“What are you even doing out in the open, Scott?” Stiles grilled. “There is a school shooting going on you know.”

“Dude that ended about twenty minutes ago, your dad came arrested the guy. The teachers announced that we could all go home. I was on my way home when Jackson came up to me and asked me if I had seen Y/N. When I told him no, he went into panic mode and started running up and down the corridors.”

I felt my phone vibrate in my hands, Jackson again. “Hello?”

“Oh my God. Thank God you’re okay. Are you still in the school? Where are you? I will come and get you and take you home.”

I look up at Stiles who held onto my hand and gave me the sweetest smile. “Jackson I am okay. I think I am going to get a ride with someone else. Thank you for always looking after me. I love you.”

“It’s my job. Who are you with so I know you are safe, put them on the phone?”

I hand the phone over to Stiles who takes it apprehensively. “He wants to make sure I haven’t concocted some excuse to avoid listening to Taylor Swift in his car, again.”

“Hello?”

“Oh my God, Stilinski? What are you doing with Y/N?”

Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear and places a hand over the microphone. “I don’t think he is too happy that you’re with me.” I laugh and he put the phone back up against his ear. “Jackson I will look after her, I promise. Enjoy Taylor Swift though. I really like the one she sings with Ed Sheeran.” He pulls the phone back and hits the end call button on the screen.

Scott looks questioningly between the two of us. “So, what is going on between you two. Is this going to be a normal thing now? Am I going to have to write up a schedule for who gets Stiles during the week?”

Stiles slaps his friend’s back. “You still got me. But now she has me too, only she gets more kisses than you. I mean we could add more kissing sessions when we are together if you would really like?”

“I think I will pass.” Scott announced.

���Good because there would be no competition.” Stiles twirled me so that I was now pressed against his chest and laid another kiss on my lips. When he pulled away, his head was bent down to mine, eyes locked on my own. “You ready to go home?”

Part 2?

[samsexualdeancurious]

His Own Hands | Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1,682

Summary: Bucky is settling in well with the Avengers but he keeps having nightmares - flashes of repressed memories of a girl being tortured by his hands and then vanishing into a swirling black portal. He's not sure who she is until Fury introduces them to their newest potential team member, a girl Bucky recognizes on sight and Fury calls "Portal".

Warnings: Hurt!Reader, Lack of Communication, torture, trauma, PTSD

Written for Nanowrimo 2020

Betaed by Saxxxology and Amory

Cover art edited by me

---

2006

“Just ask him out already,” Irene says, dark curls bouncing as she checks all her mirrors and looks over her shoulder.

You shake your head, annoyed but smiling a little at your friend’s insistence. “Not gonna happen.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing the car into reverse. “There’s no one behind me, right?”

You do your own check, smiling at your best friend’s cautiousness. She almost backed into her brother a few weeks ago and now she’s a little paranoid. “Nope, you’re good.”

“Awesome.” She backs carefully out of the driveway and onto the street. “I hope the traffic isn’t too bad. I’m starving.”

“Me, too.”

“I’m serious, though. You need to stop beating around the bush and ask Quinn out. You know he’s never gonna do it himself.”

Your cheeks heat up at the reminder of Quinn’s obliviousness. “Shut up. He’s never gonna do it ‘cause he doesn’t feel that way.”

“Girl, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That boy is in love.” A red light brings the car to a halt.

“Shut up,” you mumble, watching the “walk” sign begin counting down.

“Just calling things as I see them. You two have been dancing around each other for years. It’s about time you sorted yourselves out, got your heads out of your asses, and, ya know-”

The light turns green and the car moves forward. You fix your attention out the window instead of looking to where your best friend is definitely gesturing wildly with one hand, as is her style, and years later you’ll thank god you did because otherwise? You wouldn’t have seen the truck.

“Irene!” you shout as the world turns into the screech of tires on asphalt, the crunch of metal on metal, a blur of pain and screams and a moment of darkness and then suddenly you’re sitting on the sidewalk with Irene by your side, blinking in the afternoon sun.

“What the fuck?” she gasps, turning to you with wide eyes. “What just happened?”

You open your mouth but you can’t seem to find any words, especially after you look around. You see people staring, whispering, and then your eyes land on Irene’s car where it sits about twenty feet left of where you remember it being, crumpled around the front end of a huge red truck.

“Oh my god,” Irene whimpers. “Oh my god. Y/N, your arm!”

Your brow furrows and you turn your head to see her pointing at your right arm. Your stomach lurches at the sight of your forearm bent in a grotesque way. It doesn’t hurt, though, which you find really weird right up until your arm starts moving on it’s own.

“Holy shit,” someone - maybe Irene? You’ll never know - says.

You watch in horrified fascination as your forearm straightens out, the scrape of bone against bone as it sets itself as bad as nails on a chalkboard.

“That chick just healed herself,” you hear from the crowd that’s beginning to form.

“Did you see? She opened a portal and got them out of the car.”

“Who is she?”

“Maybe she’s like that Hulk thing from a few years ago?”

“God I hope not. That was a mess.”

The words keep coming, dozens of questions, too many to focus on at once. Your head is spinning and you’re faintly aware of Irene calling your name.

A deep voice cuts through the overwhelming noise of the gathering onlookers. “Get back, give them some space, let the paramedics through.”

“Y/N?” a new voice says. This one is closer, unfamiliar but lighter than the deep voice. Softer, filled with gentle concern. “Y/N, I need you to breathe with me. In, out. Come on, with me. In, out. In, out.”

You force yourself to focus on the voice, following its lead as you draw deep breaths. Gradually, your heart begins to calm - you hadn’t even realized it was racing.

“There you go, that’s it. In, out.”

Your vision clears and you find a kind-looking woman in a paramedic’s uniform kneeling in front of you. She smiles when she sees you looking at her.

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Amelia. I’m gonna lay you down, okay?”

You manage a small nod, allowing her to guide you to lay down on something - a backboard, you’ll later realize. She shifts to kneel by your head, gentle hands holding your neck still while someone else secures you. Amelia talks the entire time, soothing words that keep your attention on her and away from the fear that wells up when you realize you can’t move.

“I’m not hurt,” you protest as they shift you onto a gurney and cover you with a blanket.

“Just being careful,” she explains. “We have to take every precaution.”

You try to shake your head and realize you can’t. “I was hurt but I’m not anymore.”

Amelia doesn’t respond to that, too busy helping get the gurney into the back of an ambulance.

“Wait up!”

A new voice - a man. Someone else climbs into the ambulance. When they sit beside Amelia, you see it’s a man with the familiar blue uniform of an NYPD officer

“How is she?” he asks as the door closes and the ambulance begins to move.

“In shock but conscious,” Amelia answers. You feel the prick of an IV in your arm.

“Y/N,” the officer says, leaning over you. He’s about mid-thirties, you decide. Handsome, with a clean-shaven face and blonde curls. He reminds you a little of Quinn. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Yes,” you say, fingers twitching under the blanket.

“Can you explain what happened?”

You try to shake your head again, forgetting you can’t move it. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I don’t know what’s happening. What’s happening to me?”

Your breath catches in your throat, pinned there by the wave of panic that surges through your body.

“Hey, hey.” Amelia places a hand on her cheek, drawing your attention to her. “It’s okay. We’re here to help. We’ll figure it out.”

You can’t hold back a whimper, tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/N,” the officer murmurs, tone softening. “Did you know you had powers?”

“No,” you manage. “I didn’t… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” he prompts.

A memory. You’re climbing a tree and you fall but there’s a flash of something dark over your vision and then you were sitting on the ground. Safe. And that wasn’t the only time.

“Things happened when I was little?” You furrow your brow. “But I thought… those were dreams or something. That I made them up.”

He nods. “Gifted but with semi-dormant powers. Makes sense. Opening the portal must have been purely instinctual.” He lays a hand on your shoulder. “You saved your friend’s life, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Portal. What the hell are you?

--

“You wanted to see me?” Coulson says, knocking lightly on the frame of Fury’s open office door.

“I just received a report of a new gifted in New York,” Fury replies, holding out a file without looking up from the one open on his desk. “She’s at Mount Sinai.”

“A new gifted? Like Captain Marvel?”

“Different.” Fury shakes the file a little. “I want her brought in, for protection and potential recruitment. I’m certain other organizations have heard by now.”

Coulson sighs, accepting the file. “You do know it’s gonna take me forever to get there.”

Fury smirks, finally looking up. “Better get a move on, then.”

--

You’re alone in a little curtained off “room” when they come for you. The triage nurse already checked you over and now you’re just waiting for the doctor to clear you to go home. Last you heard, Irene has already been discharged and is waiting to be picked up by her parents. Your own are supposed to be on their way but you have a feeling neither are going to show.

That’s nothing new, unfortunately. Maybe Irene’s parents would be willing to drive you home.

You swing your legs a little, glancing around the room like there will be something new to see. It’s the same as before. Whitewashed wall to your right, pale blue curtains on all other sides, fluorescent lights above doing their best best to steal what little color there is.

The sound of something loud interrupts your thoughts- a popping sound you’ve heard. For half a second you think it’s fireworks before realizing it’s definitely not and yes, you have heard it before. Coming from the gun range you bike past on your way to work.

You leap off the bed at the sound of people screaming and men shouting. The men seem to be getting closer.

Coming for you.

You look around, looking for somewhere to hide but there’s nowhere and besides, it’s too late. The curtains are ripped open to reveal a huge man - long hair, piercing blue eyes glaring over a mask, six feet and broad as a house, black leather all over except for the very shiny, very scary, very metal arm with a red star on the shoulder.

He says something in a rough language you can’t understand, slinging his massive gun onto his back and reaching for you with leather-gloved hands.

“No!” you scream, suddenly finding your voice. You kick out and actually manage to make contact with his shin, but the man might as well be metal all over for all the good that does you and he continues to advance. “No, no, no-”

He growls, gripping your arms and dragging you out into the hallway where more masked men in black leather wait. None of them have metal arms but that doesn’t make them any less terrifying. You struggle in your attacker’s grip, screaming for help even though you know, deep down, that no help is coming.

The man snaps something to one of the others in the foreign language. That man pulls a hypodermic needle from a pocket on his bullet-proof vest and stabs it into the meat of your bicep.

You’re unconscious almost before you even realize what he’s done.

---

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation on Ko-Fi HERE.

—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @laughing-at-the-darkness​​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​​ @imsuperawkward​​​​​ @emoryhemsworth​ @manawhaat​

[nerdzzone]

Light After Dark: Chapter Three

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N: This chapter is pretty dialogue heavy so I’m sorry if people find that annoying! I have ideas to make sure that’s not always the case, but obviously most social distance relationships of any kind involve a lot of just talking and not as much in person interacting

I nervously chewed my nails as I stared at the blank phone that was lying on the bed.  Surely he wouldn't even notice. He probably didn't even have his notifications turned on or his phone would be buzzing a thousand times a day. Even if he did notice that he had another like, he probably wouldn't even realize it was me.

I'd just managed to convince myself that I hadn't made an incredibly embarrassing blunder when my phone buzzed and the light flashed notifying me that I had a text. I tentatively picked it up and unlocked it, hoping it was just a coincidence, but my hopes were quickly dashed when I read it.

Henry: Are you a big rugby fan?

I groaned, knowing I was caught. For a minute I debated deleting my account completely and feigning ignorance, but I knew I had to be a mature adult, bite the bullet and own up.

Me: Not gonna lie, I was hoping you wouldn't notice 😳 I thought it might get lost in the thousands of notifications you must get everyday

Henry: Thousands? You're overestimating my celebrity! I don't post often enough to get many notifications on a day to day basis...especially not on pictures that are over a year old 😉

My cheeks were still hot, but I smiled at his teasing.

Me: Over a year? Try six months! I barely even had to scroll and I didn't mean to like it

He took a few moments to respond and I worried I'd come off as too rude, but just as I was about to apologize, his reply came through.

Henry: Hmm, if you didn't mean to like any of my posts then why were you even looking at my account?

Me: Perhaps you came up as a suggested account to follow which supposedly means that you were looking at my account first

It was clearly a lie, but I figured it was worth suggesting. Maybe he had stalked me first if he was as intrigued by me as I was by him. But my hopes were quickly dashed once again.

Henry: Perhaps that's the case, but it would be quite tricky for me to have found you when all I have to go on is your first name

Henry: Perhaps it's more likely that you were doing some googling and therefore the internet thought you'd like to know that I have Instagram

Clearly, he was more than just a pretty face so I decided to come clean before I dug a deeper hole.

Me: Alright, Detective Cavill. You win. I was shamelessly creeping and accidentally double tapped a photo

Henry: 😂😂😂

Henry: There's no shame in that! I'm touched that you even cared enough to creep me 😉 and now I can do some creeping of my own, BrooketheBaker

I smiled, pleased that he was actually interested in looking at my pictures.

Me: Oh god, I hope there's nothing too cringy on there...maybe give me a few minutes to wipe all evidence of me being anything less than beautiful and hilarious

Henry: From the brief time we spent together, I find it very hard to believe there is anything that would convince me otherwise

My face heated up again at his compliment and my cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling. I felt like I was a teenager again, giggling and blushing at my phone as I texted a boy, but talking to Henry was fun and I hadn't enjoyed talking to a man this much in a long time.

Me: Well, enter at your own risk then, but the illusion will no doubt be shattered momentarily

Really, there was nothing on Instagram that I would be embarrassed for him to see. I didn't post that often, but I was very much my normal self on social media. I didn't put on an act for the few followers I had, I stayed true to myself. And sure, sometimes that was silly and goofy and not always flawless photos like some people post, but it was me. So, if he didn't like that then it was better for me to know now.

Henry: I'll have to do a deeper dive later, but for now all I can see is a very adorable and talented baker

A notification popped up that HenryCavill had followed me and like one of my photos as I read his text. I clicked through to see which one and saw one of me holding up a massive birthday cake I'd made for Molly's birthday back in February when she'd been allowed to host hoards of her friends. I followed him back before answering.

Me: Aw, shucks. You're too sweet. I still have a lot to learn, but that's half the fun

Henry: Well, my birthday is in a couple of weeks so feel free to send any experimental cakes my way

I made a mental note to check the exact day as an idea started to form. I owed him a thank you for helping me when my ankle was hurt anyway so a cake for his birthday would be a good gesture.

Me: Any allergies or flavour preferences?

Henry: I was only teasing

I was slightly disappointed that he hadn't been serious, but another text came through before I had time to worry.

Henry: But no allergies or preferences. I'll let the expert decide what's best!

I grinned at his compliment.

Me: I will see what I can do then, but I'm a bit rusty after all this time in lockdown so try not to set those expectations too high.

Henry: I'm sure your skills are still far better than mine

Me: I would hope so since I did try to make a career out of it 😉 

I heard quiet voices as Cassie and Molly left the bathroom so I awkwardly shifted off my bed, making sure to keep most of my weight on my good foot before limping to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I gave my face a quick wash as well before hobbling back to my room. My phone was flashing on my bed so I picked it up, smiling as I expected to see a text from Henry, but I was shocked to see not only a text, but also a missed call.

Henry: Sorry for being presumptuous. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer speaking over the phone to a long text conversation

My stomach filled with nervous butterflies as my finger hovered over the little phone icon. It was cute that he actually wanted to have a proper conversation, but it was a little intimidating as well. Texting was so much less pressure and gave me time to think over my responses to come off in the best way, but over the phone it was more authentic which was probably his point.

Not wanting to make Henry think that he'd upset me by calling, I took a deep breath and pressed the button.

"Hello, Brooke," He answered right away. "I'm glad you returned my call."

"Of course," I smiled. "Sorry I didn't answer, I was just brushing my teeth."

"Hm, an important thing for a baker, I would imagine. After tasting all those sweet creations."

I laughed as I awkwardly balanced the phone on my shoulder so I could get settled back on the bed without hurting my ankle.

"That's probably true," I agreed. "But as I said, I haven't been making many sweet things to sample lately."

"I’m starting to think I might have to rescind my order for a birthday cake then," Henry teased. "I wouldn't want some sub par cake from an out of practice baker."

"Excuse me," I protested. "I never turn out sub par work! Besides, you said your birthday is in a few weeks so I have some time to practice before then."

"Oh good." I could hear the smile in his voice. "It's May Fifth to be exact, just in case you're wondering."

"Great, I'll write it on the calendar."

My words were dripping with sarcasm, but luckily Henry laughed. It was a deep and warming laugh, there was something comforting about it. I was almost disappointed when he stopped chuckling and spoke again.

"So, how did you get into baking?"

"Really it was just luck and natural talent," I admitted. "I'm not trying to sound big headed, but I used to watch a lot of cooking shows after school so I just decided to give it a go and happened to be quite good at it."

"Wow, that's impressive," Henry praised, making my cheeks blush once again. "I'll admit, I've tried my hand at making bread since this lockdown started, but it wasn't really all that good."

"Ooh, you jumped on the bread bandwagon?" I teased, knowing it was a big trend at the moment. "I'm surprised you managed to get yeast, I hear it's almost as hard to find as toilet paper at the moment."

"Luckily my mother was willing to share her supply," Henry chuckled. "But I think she regretted it when she tasted the final product."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, bread can be quite tricky," I assured him, smiling at the embarrassment in his voice. "You have to get the proofing right or it's a lost cause."

"See, the fact that I don't even know what proofing means is probably a bad sign."

I laughed out loud at that one, covering my mouth as I remembered that Cassie would probably be trying to get Molly to sleep and loud noises tended to be a distraction during that process.

"It's just a fancy term for letting it rise," I explained. "We like to make things sound more complicated than they are so that people don't realize that anyone can be a baker if they try hard enough."

"I very much doubt that's true," Henry disagreed. "There's an art to it. Maybe the technical side comes with practice, but knowing what flavours to use and how to make it look beautiful isn't something that anyone can do."

"That does come with practice too though. It's not like acting where you really need that natural gift."

"I think you need less natural gifts with acting than baking," Henry insisted. "Anyone can learn to act if they have the passion and enthusiasm."

"Hardly," I scoffed. "I can't even lie convincingly, there's no way I'd be able to properly portray an entirely different character."

"With a smile as distractingly beautiful as yours, I would imagine you probably don't need to be a particularly convincing liar."

I bit back a smile at his compliment, but I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the cheese.

"Wow, Mr. Cavill. Do they teach you that charm in acting school?"

"I never went to acting school," He admitted, the smirk in his voice clear even through the phone. "So the charm is all me I'm afraid."

"Hm, that makes it more dangerous then," I teased before turning the conversation onto his career. "So, were you busy working when everything shut down?"

"I was actually," Henry sighed. "I was gearing up to start filming the second season of the Witcher."

"Oh, I've heard of that!"

"Did you watch it?"

"No," I admitted earning another chuckle from Henry. "But I heard a lot of really good things. I'll have to check it out."

"It's worth it," He insisted. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm in it. The material is great and the other actors and actresses are amazing."

"Alright, you've convinced me," I sighed dramatically. "But if I really like it you have to promise to give me all the spoilers for season two."

Another chuckle filled my ears and my stomach fluttered at the sound.

"I can't do that I'm afraid. They swore me to secrecy before they gave me the scripts."

"Oh, so you do have the script then?"

"It's sitting right here next to me as we speak."

I smirked at his confirmation.

"Alright, then if I have any questions after I'm done, I can just sneak into your house and find out for myself."

"You're going to break into my house?!" Henry was trying to sound incredulous, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "I didn't think you were such a criminal!"

"I said sneak!" I pointed out with a laugh. "I'm not a criminal, but apparently you're easily disarmed by a nice smile and I might just have to use that to my advantage."

"Damn, I shouldn't have showed my weaknesses so early in the game," Henry said, regretfully. "But I'll have to warn you, with a massive dog and three kids under ten running around, it's quite hard to sneak anywhere around here."

"That's alright," I shrugged. "Your show might be shit anyway and it won't matter."

A laugh burst through the phone at my ribbing and I couldn't help, but join in. He had an infectious laugh. The deep, richness made it sound like one of those shoulder shaking, full body laughs that puts a smile on the face of everyone in the room. I didn't know any celebrities and I rather presumptuously always assumed that most of them would be quite stand-offish and pretentious, but Henry was delightful. He was easy to talk to and joke with. He seemed very down to earth.

"I appreciate your honesty," He told me once the laughter had subsided. "But I really hope you don't think it's shit. It's my favourite role that I've ever had. I loved the games before there was even a show in the works and the books are incredible. I basically get to make a job out of my favourite hobby now so it's quite dear to my heart."

"That's the dream really," I smiled, feeling a twinge of sadness in my heart as that's what I was also doing before my bakery had been forced to close. "It's like that old saying. If you do what you love, you won't work a day in your life. Or something like that, I might be paraphrasing."

"I know what you mean and it is very true," Henry agreed. "It's brutal work. Some days I'm up at three in the morning for make-up and we don't finish until late, but it's not as tiresome when you're fully invested and enjoying the work."

"I know the feeling. Baking is probably much less physically taxing than what you do, but the days are long and they start much earlier than most people prefer."

"With all that stirring and dough kneading I would think baking could be physically taxing at times."

I snorted a laugh at that comment.

"I've seen your muscles, Henry," I reminded him. "There is no way baking is as physically taxing as a job that requires you to look like that."

"The swords I have to wave around are surprisingly heavy," He admitted. "But you seem quite fit yourself."

"Yeah, so fit that my ankles snap at the briefest impact," I joked. "And my lungs forget how to function after about ten minutes on a treadmill."

"You have asthma. You can't hold that against yourself," Henry lightly scolded me. "But how is your ankle?"

"Much better," I smiled, flexing my foot to test out the pain levels. "It honestly feels almost healed. I still have a bit of a limp, but it's loads better."

"I'm glad to hear that. I wanted to check up on you, but I didn't want to be a bother."

"It wouldn't have been a bother at all," I assured him. "Honestly, it's been really nice to speak to an adult that I'm not related to. I love my family, I do, but it's difficult some days being trapped in a house with them all."

"I understand completely," Henry said with a chuckle. "I'm in the same boat. It's lovely having the chance to be here for an extended period of time with no other obligations weighing on my mind, but it's had it's challenges as well."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one," I agreed as a piercing scream came through the phone. "Sounds like perhaps some of those challenges might be happening right now..."

"It does, but I'm in my room so it shouldn't be a pro-" Before Henry could finish his sentence there was the slam of a door as the wailing of a small child became much more clear. I heard Henry mumble something to the culprit before he turned his attention back to me. "I'm sorry. My niece is rather upset about something that is apparently of the utmost importance so I'm going to have to go."

I laughed, having been in that situation many times myself.

"That's okay, I understand. Thanks for calling though, it really has been nice."

"It has," Henry agreed as the voice in the background whined for her 'uncle Henry'. "Would it be okay if I called you again soon?"

My cheeks felt like they were about to split from how wide I was smiling at that suggestion.

"I would really like that."

"Perfect, I'll speak to you soon then."

"Yeah, speak to you soon. Good luck with your niece."

Henry sighed and thanked me before saying a quick goodbye and hanging up.

I felt giddy. He was so easy to talk to and so refreshing. He made me feel like the little black cloud that had been following me around for the last few months might finally be starting to dissipate. It was one conversation and I was levelheaded enough not to get ahead of myself, but he was starting to remind me that things might not always be as bleak as they seem.

[fiveisnumber1]

Yet another song I found and loved is Armor by Landon Austin

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you. Don't know what to say when you made me the enemy. After the war is won There's always the next one. I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

So this part made me imagine the part of the story when Reader is mad at Five for keeping secrets and being flakey. Cuz Five literally isn't bulletproof when it comes to the Reader. She has the most power over him and that's why he doesn't know whether or not to confess at first because he's still busy with the war (the apocalypse) and it seems there's a never ending list of problems like the commission as well. And also after the apocalypse is solved, they immediately fall into a second one by going back in time (altho of course they don't know it at the time). But no matter the problems, Five is softest when it comes to the reader and her hurt causes him the most pain hence the repeated line about not being bulletproof.

Maybe I'll crash into you. Maybe we would open these wounds. We're only alive if we bruise. So I lay down this armor. I will surrender tonight Before we both lose this fight Take my defenses All my defenses

I lay down this armor...

I like these lyrics cuz Five and Reader literally met through a crash. He blinked in front of her and they crashed into each other. So it's like a recollection of that. And the lyrics about opening their wounds being about finally revealing their secrets and feelings. They know they only have a little time and it's ok if it's still painful cuz they're both together and alive. Five decides to surrender his feelings to Reader because they're not sure if they'll make it out of the fight to save the world alive. He gives up his defenses and lowers his armor and expresses his love for her.

I do what it takes to make this right. But we got to stop before the regret. After the war is won There's always the next one. I'll do what it takes to make this right

Pretty self explanatory. Five is on a mission to make the world right and make it up to the reader. He doesn't want to have regrets because he obviously has a lot and that makes him ignore the reader a little cuz he can't see her die again. Then the lyric about winning the war but there being a next one makes me think of S2 and the apocalypse threat again but Five determined to do anything to make it right again. (this poor Boi tho. Can't catch a break)

I'll be you escape. I'll be your safe place. I'll be your shelter, Your shelter, yeah.

And this is obviously the Reader, promising Five that he doesn't have to do everything alone. He doesn't have to save the world alone. It can also be Five promising the reader that no matter how many times he messes up, he will do his best to be her safe place and shelter her even if he makes mistakes.

Anyway, as you can tell, I'm finding new music and any songs I connect to Five and Reader I'm impulsively sending your way xD hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Awesome song! I also have some ideas about lines too. It’s really long though so I put it below the cut.

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you. 

Don't know what to say when you made me the enemy. 

After the war is won There's always the next one. I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

This first line could be from the reader’s perspective too in the fact that Five is the closest to her heart so when he is flaky and isn’t being open about things it feels like a shot to the heart that he’s not being as close as they used to be. Hence she’s not bulletproof when it comes to him (and the fact that he’s being distant)

The second line could also be Five’s feelings at himself. He’s his own worst enemy because he keeps getting down on himself for hurting the reader and for all the years he was gone knowing that she just wondered if he was still mad at her. As much as the reader loves and forgives him he still at war with himself for the trauma he has caused.

The second war can reference the two apocalypses but also now heading into season 2 of the story the second time Five has pulled the reader through time. And the second bulletproof line can relate to the reader’s feelings of losing her best friend (and everyone she knows for that matter) a second time because Five had to jump them all through time. She’s not immune to the pain of having to lose him again.

Maybe I'll crash into you. 

Maybe we would open these wounds. We're only alive if we bruise. 

So I lay down this armor. I will surrender tonight Before we both lose this fight Take my defenses All my defenses. I lay down this armor

I agree with what you had said about the first line because they did literally crash into each other. Building off that recollection though I’d say that the next three lines can be related to the fact that when they met they opened up about things they could never open up tp about others. The reader confided in Five about her powers, it was something that made her feel different from her peers no matter how perfect her life was but now she had someone to share it with. Someone who would understand her struggles (wounds) and how they affect her (bruises). The same goes for Five as he opened up to her about what it was like to live with his family and under his dad’s oppressive rule.

With them both being so open with each other they laid down their armor and defenses so they could grow close to the other.

I'll be you escape. I'll be your safe place. I'll be your shelter, Your shelter, yeah.

I think this could also be Five to the reader. He’s trying to protect her from the apocalypse and the dangers that the world could face. He also wants to make it up to her for abandoning her accidentally and having her think he was mad at her for years. He wants to be the one to take her fears away and make her safe hence he wants to be her escape, safe place and shelter.

Hope you like the ideas I added! ❤️

[potatocrab]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (15/18)

Chapter 15: The Liar’s Kiss That Says I Love You

A return to New England Medical Center finds Madelyn struggling with who she can trust. She and Deacon have a long conversation about the power of truth and lies, and she learns one more of his closely guarded secrets. At a Railroad safehouse, the two reminisce on their first operation and realize they may have fallen into a cliché after all.

“Kiss me, Mike. I want you to kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you and means something else.” - Lily Carver as played by Gaby Rodgers (Kiss Me Deadly, 1955)

x-x

This chapter contains mild/not-so-mild sexual content. Proceed at your own desire! When you see the French language being used, you have reached the point of no return! 

Major thanks to @glowstickia​ for her help on the French resources. :)

[read on Ao3] |  [chapter masterpost]

May 30th, 1958

Madelyn had hoped she wouldn’t have a reason to visit the New England Medical Center so soon, memories of Nick’s hospitalization and near-death experience at the hands of Eddie Winter fresh in her mind. Yet there she was, struggling to ignore the sympathetic glances from the familiar faces of doctors and nurses as they patched up her arm and provided her with a tetanus shot—undoubtedly more painful than her injury, at least without the surge of adrenaline to dull her senses. Who would have guessed that a needle could hurt worse than a bullet?

The same medical staff allowed her to stay with Drummer Boy in his assigned recovery room, despite the fact she was of no relation. It was likely out of pity for all they had seen her experience in recent months. Between everything that had happened to her and Nick when they went after Eddie Winter in April, Jenny’s death when the hospital was ambushed thereafter, and now an attempted assassination at her own apartment—Madelyn was starting to think her luck—if she had any to begin with—was running out.

By the grace of God—or maybe Drummer Boy’s perfect timing—she’d escaped relatively unharmed. He wasn’t so fortunate, but the commotion of the shooting hadn’t gone unnoticed in her Cambridge neighborhood. When the Boston Police arrived, she was initially surprised to see Sergeant Sullivan, but considering he was the last trustworthy cop left in the city, she was grateful for his presence. He ensured that she and Drummer Boy got to the New England Medical Center in a timely manner while his task force secured the area. Madelyn wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of strange men lurking about her apartment, but she had little choice but to agree.

In the quiet of Drummer Boy’s room, she finally had a chance to process what had occurred and how close she had come to death—again. An unknown assailant dared to attack Madelyn in her own home, where she was most vulnerable. The list of suspects in her mind narrowed down to one as she thought about the agency’s infiltration of Fort Hagen, and the smuggled documents on Kellogg. While there hadn’t been any sightings of him since the late 40s, his vanishing act did little to ease anyone’s mind. The proof was in the casefile—Kellogg had a way of finding the people he deemed unfit for life. It made sense that he’d come for her, especially if he really was an agent of the Institute—they were likely to have their own list of reasons for wanting her dead.

An unsettling notion entered her mind as she thought about the man who had stalked her and Deacon before and again at the Cambridge campus on the day of the demonstration. What if it was him who had attempted to kill her, and not Kellogg as she assumed? What if it was a random android, set up in a building across the street, programmed to shoot into her apartment window at a specific time? Worse yet, what if the would-be assassin was just another one of the Institute’s experiments? Just another name, another face to get lost in the crowd—just as Piper feared. That meant nobody was beyond suspicion, not when it was still unknown just how long the Institute had been performing these so-called brain augmentations—if they were even behind the attack in the first place.

Madelyn clasped Drummer Boy’s hand tight as the paranoia and anxiety settled in. She couldn’t live like that—constantly looking over her shoulder—living in fear. She couldn’t go through life wondering who was or wasn’t worthy of her trust. Not when she’d finally gained back her sense of security—her sense of sanity—her sense of self. After Nate’s death, after Eddie Winter, after everything—the last thing she wanted was to fall back into the endless spiral of despair.

You can’t trust everyone.

The words echoed in her mind like so many times before, her chest tightening under the painful realization of how true they were. Madelyn closed her eyes the moment tears clouded her vision, clenching her jaw so tight she feared her teeth might chip. Anything to prevent herself from crying. It didn’t matter that she was (mostly) alone—she was so exhausted from so many nights of crying. Perhaps it was her concentration that made it difficult to hear the echoing footsteps in the hallway or the soft knock. It wasn’t until the door began to creak open that she reacted, recoiling in a way that she nearly fell out of her chair.

“Charmer?”

“Deacon?”

Madelyn breathed out his name, relieved it was him and not anyone else. While the doctors and nurses provided some comfort, it paled in comparison to the intimacy they shared. Still undefined, still unspoken—but undeniably close.

He hesitated, quietly closing the door behind him as he observed her, eyebrows raised high above the frame of his darkened shades. For as stoic and pensive as she’d seen him be in the past, especially when reacting to various tragedies and disastrous events, he appeared to be faltering now. It was always difficult to fully discern his emotions when half his face was obscured, but he looked curious, if not concerned. His silence indicated he was likely worried too, but Deacon would never say it outright.

Madelyn’s pulse gradually settled, but she had a difficult time fully relaxing under his watchful gaze. In that moment, with her willpower drained, she looked away. She focused on Drummer Boy’s steady breathing, brushing the pad of her thumb across his wrist and hospital band.

“Danny—Sullivan,” Deacon corrected himself, slowly moving to stand near the end of the hospital bed. “He tracked me and Valentine down, took us back to your apartment.”

“I know,” she responded, barely above a whisper. “I had him do so.”

“Ol’ Nick took a lot of convincing to stay behind,” he explained, setting down the canvas bag and glass Tupperware he carried on the small table. “But he didn’t want to leave those cops unsupervised. Even if they’re Sullivan’s men—”

You can’t trust everyone—he didn’t have to say it.

“It figures,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “Probably looked like somebody died, huh?”

Deacon remained silent, though she could hear him, feel him, approaching. Soon enough, he was standing at her side, causing a tingle to run up her spine—an unexplainable feeling—but her skin suddenly ached for the simplest form of touch. As if he could read her mind (and she wouldn’t be surprised if he could), he rested his hand over hers and Drummer Boy’s. Madelyn immediately snapped open her eyes with a sharp inhale of air, momentarily stunned by the contact.

She needed more.

In an instant she was standing, clinging to him with her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as she pressed up on her toes, tired feet and aching shoulder be damned. Deacon was quick to return the embrace, holding her close as he kept his arms snug around her torso. Madelyn stayed there, face pressed against the soft wool of his coat—she wanted to tease him for wearing it so near to summer but now she was grateful for the comfort it provided. She didn’t cry, despite the fact that she wanted to, and probably needed to as well. Bristling with quiet desperation, the only thing Madelyn was sure of was that she didn’t want to be alone.  

“I just—” she started after a long stretch of silence. “I’d like to go home.”  

Deacon gradually pulled her away, easing her back so her heeled feet were level with the ground. He swept back a few errant curls behind her ear, fingers lingering along the curve of her cheek. At first, she thought he might kiss her, but he skewed his lips to the side instead. “No can do, Charmer.”

Madelyn sighed—she knew that, but it was worth a try. Her eyes danced over to the belongings on the table. Deacon sensed her curiosity.

“Codsworth insisted I bring you something to eat,” he explained, nodding his chin towards the glass container.

“Better left for Drummer Boy. I’m told hospital food tastes of despair,” she flashed a meek smile. “And the bag?”

“Some clothes for you,” he said. “Any chance to rifle through your naughty drawer.”

If it were anybody else, she wouldn’t have appreciated such an ill-timed joke. Deacon’s smirk relaxed into a gentler expression, his thumb tracing down the angle of her chin towards her mouth. “Let’s get you someplace safe.”

There was a hidden meaning to his words that had Madelyn equal parts excited and trembling with anxiety. He wanted her safe, but also alone—all to himself. They’d kissed, crossed that barrier two weeks prior. But whatever was to come next was to be determined, put on hold, as their focus quickly became centered on finding Kellogg and infiltrating the Institute. Romance could wait—or maybe it couldn’t.

What was she so afraid of?

Finally, she spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“You’ve asked that before,” he responded in a low, contemplative voice.

He was right—Madelyn had poised the question on more than one occasion. And the last time, just as before, he hadn’t given a straight answer. It was always easy enough for her to assume and take his presence for granted. But now more than ever, she needed honesty—if it was even possible. She wanted nothing more than to be engulfed in the flame they’d ignited, but she’d sooner snuff out the fire if he couldn’t give her this one answer.

“I know that lying is your profession. That you’d sooner court death than the truth,” she paused, reluctantly leaning away from his touch, noting the glimmer of disappointment in his features. “Against better judgement, I trust you.”

“But I need to know that you feel the same—that you trust me,” Madelyn expressed, doing her best not to sound like she was pleading. “Not just as your partner in the Railroad, but—”

She broke off, grasping his hand as part of her silent allusion. There was a subtlety to his reaction, but enough of one that told her he understood the inference. Deacon said nothing, eyebrows firmly creased together as he considered her words. The silence dragged on enough that she felt foolish for saying anything in the first place. She tried not to feel overly disappointed or react in a disproportionate way—the last thing Madelyn wanted was an argument.

“There’s an imbalance,” she mumbled, unsure of her train of thought. “You know so much about me, a fault of my own—Nick always said I wore my heart on my sleeve—” She was definitely rambling. Blame it on her grief—she couldn’t stop. “But you are and always have been an enigma, Deacon. Your face, your hair…hell, your real age,” her eyes darted over his face as her heart raced loud enough she could hear it echoing in her skull. “Your name.”

His reaction wasn’t subtle that time. Deacon pulled away, and Madelyn feared she’d crossed a line and offended him. But he didn’t storm out of the room—rather, he dug through his coat and jacket pockets, muttering something incoherent under his breath until he pulled free a leather billfold with a triumphant sort of grin. He placed it in her hands as if she’d asked for it.

“Go on,” he encouraged with a sideways smirk.

Madelyn didn’t move an inch, only taking a quick glance at the wallet before meeting his face again. “What—”

“You could’ve lifted that off of me at any time,” he interrupted, gesturing to the faded black material. “Looked at my ID and taken some money while you’re at it. All in a day’s work for a spy.”

She frowned—it seemed honesty for him was as bad as pulling teeth. Her legal studies were easier than this. Madelyn decided to call his bluff, turning over the billfold in her hand. “A spy like you would obviously carry more than one identification.”

“Obviously,” he agreed with a nod. “But one of them is bound to be legitimate. Even a no-good scoundrel like me needs a clean copy for official reasons—never know when you’re going to end up in a pickle or interrogated by some charming blonde.”

Madelyn, understandably, had doubts as her irritation lingered. Even if she wanted to take a look, could she really open what was akin to opening Pandora’s box? Did she really want to know? What if this was just another elaborate trick? Deacon titled his head just enough that she caught a glimpse of his eyes in the low light of the room. He was serious now, all trace of humor erased from his expression.

“I trust you.”

A shockwave rippled through her body causing a deep warmth to radiate in her chest. He might as well have told her—

Madelyn blinked hard, shaking the idea from her mind. One step at a time. Trust. He slowly circled around her to be closer to Drummer Boy’s bedside, and she turned to watch his movements, still hesitating to flip open the leather billfold. Deacon leaned over the hospital bed, as if to verify the agent wasn’t secretly awake and eavesdropping on their conversation. She sat back down in the nearby chair before giving into her curiosity.

She wasn’t sure what a typical man’s wallet was supposed to contain, but Deacon’s was full of various cards and trinkets—paper receipts and scribbled notes, raffle tickets of undetermined origin. Just as she predicted, and he admitted to, there were multiple state identification cards. Many were for Massachusetts, but there was one for Virginia, and one for Washington D.C.—unsurprisingly with the obviously fake name of George Washington.

Madelyn flicked through the paper cards, finding humor in some of the clever names and disguises—Horatio Williams from Worcester County, Simon Rock from Plymouth, Guy Granger from Richmond, and Harry Morgan from Nantucket. It wasn’t until she settled on a well-faded card that she gave pause. The Deacon in the black-and-white picture was recognizable, but only because she’d seen him without his usual pompadour wig and sunglasses. The full name wasn’t visible, worn from many years of handling but she saw enough of the bold lettering—Johnathan Daniel. She knew immediately it wasn’t a fake.

“Old testament,” she muttered, half-jokingly, under her breath. At least he hadn’t lied about his Catholic upbringing. Madelyn looked up to find him whispering—praying—as he gently held onto Drummer Boy’s arm, his other hand resting against the other man’s shoulder. The sight was unexpected, to say the least, and gave her insight that perhaps their relationship stretched beyond the Railroad too.

“Drummer Boy—Robby,” she corrected herself. “He wasn’t lying when he said John D formed the Railroad.”

Deacon shrugged, glancing at her over his shoulder, as if he expected her to say that. “He wasn’t,” he confirmed, plainly. He didn’t even ask when, or why Drummer Boy told her such information. “John D didn’t do it alone.”

“No,” Madelyn knew the history, thanks to the stories and a little digging of her own. “But Wyatt isn’t around anymore, now is he?”

“He isn’t.”

“And John D?” she asked tentatively.

Deacon grinned, if only for a fleeting moment. “He’s around.”

It was confirmation enough, and Madelyn decided not to pry for a straight answer—she’d gotten plenty from him already when he confirmed his trust. Now was not the time to cross boundaries, even as more unanswered questions rattled through her mind. With a deep and steadying breath, she allowed herself to become content with the knowledge that she was one of the lucky few—if not the only one—who knew this truth.

The silence was interrupted by a soft grumbling as Drummer Boy gradually regained consciousness. Madelyn abruptly stood, dropping Deacon’s wallet into the chair and rushing to the bedside to ensure he was okay. It took several moments for him to blink the exhaustion from his eyes, and he cleared his throat a few times before relaxing against the pillows again. The Railroad agent lazily glanced up at the two, flashing Madelyn a groggy smile. When Drummer Boy looked at Deacon, his face scrunched up, stuck between a frown and a glare.

“You still owe me,” he mumbled, causing Deacon to softly laugh. “Two dollars.”

The moon still hung high in the sky by the time Madelyn and Deacon left the New England Medical Center, though she wasn’t entirely sure of how much time had passed since she first left the agency, visited Nate’s grave, and returned to her apartment, only to be shot at by an unknown assailant—it had been a long day. All she knew was that her body ached, and that she was desperate for sleep.

After a short taxi ride into the Fens district, Deacon navigated the two through a nondescript area. She lacked the energy to comment on allowing handsome men to lead her into strange alleyways, but the amusement still brought a smile to her face. Outside an old, brick apartment building she noticed two Railroad insignias itched into the wall—one for safehouse, and another for ally.

“Mercer?” she assumed.

He nodded, escorting her inside the building. “Home sweet home.”

Unlike her Cambridge apartment, the elevators there were in working order. Madelyn couldn’t help but yawn as she leaned against Deacon’s shoulder, hoping the safehouse had an ample supply of pillows. He slowly guided her drowsy form down the hallway to the correct door, propping her under his arm as he fished through his pockets for his keys.

“Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?” he teased as soon as he pushed the door open.

Madelyn snickered, and snagged the bag of her belongings from his arm. “Haven’t you learned by now I’m a capable woman?”

He laughed, allowing her to enter ahead of him into the apartment. It was just about the same size as hers, with a mirrored layout and less furniture. Seeing as it was meant as a halfway-house for weary and temporary travelers, it made sense that it wouldn’t feel as lived in. There was a couch, a record player, and a small bookshelf with an assortment of books. The kitchen was modest as well—a small island bar with a few leftover coffee cups and newspapers, as well as a cardboard box from the nearby pizzeria.  

Madelyn followed the pathway of the hallway to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to find Deacon loitering by the refrigerator. As soon as she was alone in the tiny, tiled room, she took several moments to examine herself in the mirror. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time she found herself covered in blood—a macabre thought—the hospital staff had done a decent job at cleaning washing away the evidence from her skin. But there she was with another ruined dress, stained and torn from where the bullet had grazed her shoulder.

She thought to check her wedding ring for streaks of red when she realized she wasn’t even wearing it. A flicker of guilt washed over her as she remembered she’d removed it before the undercover operation at Fort Hagen. Maybe she should be relieved it was still safe and sound at her apartment—not like Deacon would’ve snagged it off her jewelry stand. Madelyn decided to look through the bag to see what he did grab. There were two dresses and stockings that complimented her current pair of heels, and she was grateful that they were appropriate for the May weather. Tucked beneath that was one of her silk nightgowns and matching robes, along with some undergarments. Rather than feel embarrassed, she could only sigh, appreciative that she had something comfortable to change into.

She quickly kicked off her heels, leaving them at the foot of the sink as she removed the rest of her clothes. She draped her discarded dress and stockings over the shower curtain rod before slipping on the pale blue nightgown, securing the robe around her body with a tight knot. She wiggled her toes against the cool floor and sighed. With one last glance in the mirror to ensure she hadn’t missed an errant mark of blood, she flicked off the light and left the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Deacon was preparing two glasses of whiskey as he stood by the island bar, pausing in his actions to watch her slow approach. “Well now I feel overdressed.”

Ironic, considering she’d never seen him so relaxed. He had discarded his wool coat and suit jacket, left hanging over the back of the living couch. Even his shoes were missing, and a cursory scan of the room didn’t give her any indication of where he’d placed them. Madelyn could only mimic his expression.

“You’re the one who packed my bag,” she replied. “I sense sabotage is at play.”

Deacon mocked offense. “I’d never.”

“Before you take the bed and resign me to the couch,” he continued, gaining her attention. He gestured to the freshly poured drinks and the pizza box. “I made a promise to a very pushy Mister Handy unit that you’d be fed, and I’m one to keep promises. Even if they are to robots with British accents.”

Madelyn laughed, imaging Codsworth’s worrying pestering. When her stomach growled, she decided that as tired as she was, sleep could wait. Deacon pulled out the barstool for her so she could sit before occupying the set next to her, sliding her the glass tumbler of whiskey and cardboard box of leftovers. She’d had worse meals but in that moment, cold pizza and alcohol was like heaven. Still, she could sense Deacon watching her carefully from the corner of her eye, and she sighed into her glass.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” she explained, nervously meeting his shielded gaze. “Not now, not when I’ll just have to repeat it all over again when we meet with the others in the morning or—” she glanced to the clock hanging on the wall and groaned. “In a few hours.”

Deacon didn’t push. “Whatever you need, Charmer.”

“How does the line go?” he mused. “You know how to whistle…”

“I thought I was Bacall,” Madelyn joked mid-chew. “Mr. Bogart.”

She hadn’t forgotten that conversation from their first meeting, a flirtatious tease of falling in love like two Hollywood starlets in the latest noir film. Madelyn would’ve never guessed that all these months later, it had played out exactly as predicted. She smiled, and so did he.

“Looks like we fell into the cliché after all,” she whispered, eyes darting across his face, lingering on his mouth. “What do you think?”

Deacon finished off his whiskey with a slow sip before answering. “Tu as de beaux yeux tu sais.”

Madelyn was momentarily taken aback, suddenly wishing she’d taken French as a foreign language in school instead of Gaelic—all her Irish relatives were deceased anyways, what was the point? Was Deacon deflecting again? Something about his tone and the way he turned towards her said otherwise. He used his legs to scoot her barstool closer to him, the movement causing her to lean forward and brace her palms flat against his chest so she wouldn’t smash her forehead against his nose. His hands came to rest on her waist as he gradually eased her closer.

“Si je te disais que tu avais un beau corps, tu m’en tiendrais rigueur?”

A question whispered against the shell of her ear that sent her heart racing, mind going blank as she only thought about Deacon’s heated breath along the column of her throat. Madelyn allowed herself to edge nearer to his body still until she was practically straddling his thigh, teetering on the edge of her chair, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

He continued murmuring what she assumed were sweet-nothings against her skin—though they could be nonsense and she’d still be melting in his hands. “On devrait t'arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique.”

“Est-ce que tu fais partie du menu?”

What about a menu? She pondered if what he was telling her bordered on filth, but the idea only excited her. Madelyn sharply inhaled, angling her neck to give him greater access despite the fact his lips hadn’t made direct contact with her skin. When he finally reached her mouth, he paused, one hand reaching up to hold the side of her face steady.

“Dis moi ce que tu veux,” he said. After a beat, he repeated himself, this time so she could understand. “Tell me what you want.”

Madelyn didn’t hesitate to move her hands to his face, fingers wrapping around the metal frame of his glasses before gently removing them, setting them down on the kitchen counter. She held his face with her palms, taking a long moment to stare deep into his steely blue eyes. It had been more than a month since she’d seen them like this, and yet it felt like she was seeing them for the first time—brilliant, vibrant and beautiful.

“You,” she breathed the answer, the most honest she’d felt in years. “Deacon, I want you.”

There was a glimmer to his eyes she couldn’t place as he briefly smirked before wordlessly closing the distance between them with a slow, but needy kiss. It didn’t take long at all for it to grow heated, the hand on her waist silently encouraging her to scoot closer until she was fully seated across his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Deacon balanced her against him as they hungrily kissed, a groan echoing in his throat as she frantically pushed the suspenders from his shoulders before moving her fingers to undo the buttons of his shirt. It seemed that now that the damn was broken, Madelyn couldn’t wait for the rush—patience be damned.  

He matched her fervor, one hand darting to the silken knot at her waist and blinding tugging until he broke away from their kiss to glare down at the confusing tangle. With a curse he pulled open her robe and she shrugged it from her body, softly moaning as his lips instantly collided with the outline of her collarbone before the garment reached the floor. As Deacon kissed a trail along her skin, Madelyn threaded her hands through his hair, breathing a laugh when she remembered it was a wig. He didn’t seem to mind as she removed it—too preoccupied with leaving patterns on her neck—exposing the ginger locks she admired. Just as she returned to run her fingers through those soft waves, he leaned back out of reach. She didn’t have time to be confused as he hoisted her into his arms as he stood, holding her as if she weighed nothing.

Madelyn gasped and still clutched his arms in the fear that she’d be dropped. At first, she assumed he would carry her to the couch, or the bedroom, but he simply placed her on the island bar instead. With a sweep of his arm, he pushed away the clutter to make room for her body, thrilling her to the core. She watched as Deacon peeled off his dress shirt, moving her hands to his belt on the assumption—and perhaps eagerly—that they were to make love right there. He covered her hands with his own, stopping her with a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t meant to taunt her.

“Lie back,” he instructed, voice laced with desire.

Madelyn complied, swallowing down the last traces of anxiety as she eased back onto her elbows. She was so entranced by his actions that she almost forgot to breathe, eyes locked onto his face as his gaze raked over her body and the length of her legs. Deacon’s hands were soft as they traced up from her ankles to her calves and eventually to her thighs, gradually spreading apart her knees to make enough space for his body. Those striking eyes of his found hers as his hands trailed further, past the lace trim of her nightgown until heated fingers traced the outline of her underwear. Those same deft fingers pulled away the fabric just enough so he could touch, an agonizing drag along her already dampened folds. It was enough for Madelyn to completely collapse against the cold tile of the counter, tossing her head back as she moaned loudly. Just how touch starved had she been?  

“Don’t close your eyes,” Deacon said, and she desperately fought to snap them open as he continued, and then stopped.

She whimpered, almost against her own volition. He was already gradually sliding her underwear down her legs until they slipped off and to the floor. Instead of his hands, it was his mouth that followed the trail up her legs, and Madelyn was sure her heart was going to burst right out her chest. It didn’t take a detective to know what he was planning, and the pure eroticism of it all—splayed out on a kitchen counter—made her skin prickle with arousal.

Deacon pushed up the silken fabric of her nightgown before hooking one knee around his shoulder, spreading her other thigh out so that his hand could easily trace along her skin. His fingers found her wet heat again, far from teasing as he probed her entrance, eliciting loader groans from her. Just as he found a steady rhythm, he replaced his hand with his mouth, and Madelyn could feel her stomach coiling at the sensation already. She was writhing, uncaring how unhinged she appeared, completely lost to the passion he was inflicting upon her. It was only fitting that the man who was so gifted at intrigue would be this talented with his mouth—Deacon was through, relentless.

Madelyn’s mind was a haze, and she couldn’t hear anything besides her own rapid pulse and intense breathing. No doubt she was chanting his name like a prayer, whispering quiet praises and pleadings that he wouldn’t stop because—oh God—she was so close, and—Jesus—she hadn’t felt so alive in years. There was more blasphemy and curses, and she was sure she was going to hell—maybe it was worth it—if this was what sin felt like.

When she came, it was blinding, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably as Deacon’s hands moved to cradle her, mouth unmoving from her core until she was spent. Madelyn still took several minutes to regain her bearings, staring up at the ceiling in delirious wonder.

“Deacon?” she titled her head to find him resting against the counter, arms draped across her body as his hands rubbed slowly up and down her sides. He glanced up at her with a lazy, self-satisfied sort of smile, and she decided he deserved it.

“I’m here,” he answered.

She softly laughed. “I’d like you to carry me now.”

Deacon was slow to move but eventually leaned back, grasping her hands to help her gradually sit up straight. He hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her torso and gave her a sideways glance so she’d hold onto his shoulder for balance. Madelyn again found herself amused at how easy he made it seem, pausing on his way out of the kitchen to turn off the front room lights. They made their way towards the bedroom in the darkness, though Deacon didn’t appear perturbed, as if he had every inch of the place memorized by touch.

Compared to the rest of the apartment, the bedroom filled more belongings and looked like it had a regular visitor. There were more books scattered there than in the front room, and several bags of clothes that had been diligently organized. Madelyn didn’t have to ask to know the regular tenant was Deacon. The shades of the window were open, allowing the light of the moon to cast a soft light of white into the room and across the unmade bed. He placed her there, and she stared up at him with curious eyes as he seemed to hesitate for the first time that evening as he slowly unbuckled his belt, sliding down his pants when there was enough slack.

“We can stop, if you want,” Deacon suggested. “The bed is yours. Couch is more comfortable than it looks.”

Madelyn was surprised, and while she appreciated the gesture, she’d expressed her desires. “No.”

“Thought you might say that,” he smirked. He removed his undershirt and tossed it to the floor before sitting on the edge of the mattress, reaching down to pluck the socks off his feet.

When he turned to her, Madelyn was struck by the man she saw in the glow of the moonlight, practically a stranger and yet somebody she trusted her entire life with. Against common sense she’d gone and fallen in love with a beautiful mystery of a man, and nothing thrilled her more. She sat up to meet his advances, kissing him desperately as he worked to lift her nightdress up and off her body.

Madelyn removed her own bra, uncaring if he could do it just as quickly. At this rate, she just wanted to be naked and beneath him as soon as possible. Deacon must’ve found the action amusing, softly laughing against her mouth as he broke away from their kiss to lift off from the bed to discard his briefs. She took the opportunity to lean back against the pillows, pushing back the sudden realization that she was about to have sex for the first time in years—the first time since—

No, she reminded herself, closing her eyes tight. There was no time for that kind of guilt, or for those kinds of memories to permeate this space. With a steadying breath, she blinked open her eyes to find Deacon perched over her, the warmth of his body causing her earlier excitement to spike anew. He lowered himself closer, and she let out a shudder at the feel of his hardened arousal at the junction of her thighs.

“Je t’adore,” he whispered against her ear.

Madelyn turned her head so that she could look at him, lock eyes—blue on blue. She wrapped one leg around his, silently encouraging him as she hooked her arms around his shoulders. “Deacon, please.”

That’s all it took for him to slowly sink into her, the air stolen from her lungs as he became fully seated within her. Deacon moved slow in those initial moments, almost agonizingly so, staying close to her body as he steadily rolled his hips against hers. It wasn’t until she let out a strangled moan and grasped the hair along his scalp that he dared to increase his speed, fully retreating with each thrust before pushing back in. There were more hushed, incoherent and foreign words exchanged, more silent prayers and whispered names against mouths between hungry kisses.

Eventually he leaned back onto his haunches and the angle created a delightful increase to her pleasure and judging by the way Deacon panted and struggled to keep his groans contained, he felt the same. Madelyn felt admired under his gaze, her skin aflame as his blown pupils darted across her naked flesh, fingers digging tightly into her hips as he gradually lost control of his thrusts. She’d been so caught up in her own past that she hardly considered—or remembered—that it had possibly been a long time for him as well.

“Come here,” she beckoned him back to her arms and he practically collapsed against her, their limbs tangling together as they lost themselves to each other.

It didn’t take more than one, two—three punctual thrusts for Madelyn to snap, crying out as she came with a trembling force. Deacon followed shortly thereafter, clinging tightly to her as he snapped his hips tightly to her with a guttural groan. The two stayed coiled together for the next several moments until the spasms passed, Deacon pulling away with a deep exhale as he withdrew to collapse at her side.

Neither said a word as they came down from their individual highs of ecstasy, the room slowly growing quiet as their breathing returned to normal. Madelyn was the first to roll onto her side to face him, and for all that they had shared in the past and just now, she felt strangely bashful. Deacon was already gazing at her with an expression she couldn’t place, the moonlight twinkling in his eyes. Still, the two remained quiet, only regarding each other with similar smiles. He silently urged her to snuggle close against his chest, wrapping their still warm bodies in a thin sheet.

Madelyn still wasn’t sure what the nature of their relationship was, but that was a conversation for another day. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment with a potentially tremulous conversation—not everything needed to be talked through, not everything needed an immediate answer. It was well enough to just be happy in the moment. And despite all the other worries in her life—God—was she happy. She could feel sleep finally calling her into the darkness.

Before she succumbed, she smiled, content to be wrapped up in his arms. “Goodnight, Deacon.”

She convinced herself she was dreaming when he responded minutes, or maybe hours later.

“Goodnight, Madelyn.” 

[johnshelbysbabygirll]

First bullet - JOHN SHELBY X READER

hello my loves 

this one it’s not about holiday at all, it’s something i wrote a long time ago, but i wanted to post something tonight and i hope you like it anyway

"May you Peaky Blinders rot in fuckin hell!"

You watch in pure terror as Linda point the gun to Arthur, tears all over her face. You start running with John and Tommy right behind you, but you are faster than they are.

"Arthur!" You all shout his name, but he don't move. He allowed her to shot him.

You don't think much about it when you reach them and you brutally pull Arthur beside, your body taking his place and the bullet meant for him. You didn't expect to Linda to really shot her husband, but you lying on the ground in pain it's the proof she is able to do that.

"[Y/N]!" You hear John screaming your name, but you can't answer. You can only growl in horrible pain; you've never been shot before, but you took the bullet for Arthur without thinking twice. And you would do it for any of them, especially for John, your best friend and the one that always protected you. You’re not as strong as they are, but you would protect any of them at any cost.

"Fuck you!" Polly screamed and pointed the gun to Linda's head, ready to shoot, but she is stopped by Tommy.

"Poll, stop. She's not dead. [Y/N] not dead."

"We have to fuckin save her."

John is right next to you and you hardly squeeze his hand, trying to do something to numb the pain in your shoulder.

"John..." You whisper his name, but he is too agitated and nervous to hear you.

He pick you up in his arms in bridal style and he is running back into Tommy's house, knowing this is gonna get worse soon. Everyone get out of their away as you let out a scream, your shoulder feeling like it was ripped off your body.

"You stupid whore! You should fuckin cut her right now" Polly spit at Linda who followed you inside.

"Foolish woman...Why did you that?" Arthur voice is soft and low, but you hear it anyway. He caresses your hair, not knowing what to do. Just looking at your full of blood dress makes him go mental, knowing it's his fault if something gonna happen to you.

"Cause we are family" you manage to smile a little.

"Ya stubborn ass it's gonna be the death of me." John mutter under his heavy breath and his eyes are not happy at all. He is terrified.

"Shut your mouth, John" You smile a little, but you immediately groan.

Tommy push off all the things that were on the table and John gently laid you on it. He ripped off your sleeve and you hear him cursing. You can't see the wound, but you can feel it and it hurts like hell.

"I can't do it, not to her." He said to Tommy, his voice full of concern and you know that he is tense.

"I will do it. Poll, you have to help me."

"I'm not feeling my arm...Why I'm not feeling my fuckin arm?"

You start to get panicked too and you move on the table, right before John and Arthur's hands keeping you still. John placed kisses all over your sweaty face and he let his forehead on yours, made you look right into his eyes.

"Don't you dare to fuckin leave us...Leave me. Don’t do that to me. You hear me?"

"I won't." You said and you sound so sure, but you weren't. What if you gonna lose your arm? What if you gonna die?

You don't have the time to prepare yourself. Tommy's fingers are right into the wound as he tries to get the bullet out of your body. You arch your back and you cry out in pain, screaming at the top of your lungs and making everyone shiver at the sound of it. John and Arthur have tears in their eyes; one feeling guilty, the other feeling physical pain of seeing you like this.

"Hold her!" Tommy shout as well now. John holds you arm still and he keep kissing your hair and forehead, but it didn't help too much now. Arthur holds your whole body, Polly joining them and holding your legs.

"I'm sorry [Y/N]...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." You heard Linda and you gave her a glare, wishing she was on your place right now. She was your friend a few months ago; you didn't know she was capable of such a thing.

"Go to fuckin hell Linda!" You scream and you want to arch your back again, but you are holding in your place so you just growl, seeing Tommy full of blood hand holding the bullet.

You take a sharp breath, but you knowing it wasn't the end. You were a nurse for John too many times and you know what's coming next.

"Bite this", Tommy hands John a towel and he stick it into your mouth. "It's gonna hurt [Y/N], but I have to be quick."

"We're here, doll." Arthur speaks and you could feel John's body tensing next to you.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at you, asking if you are ready and you slowly nod your head, trying to ignore how scared you really are. He pour the whiskey on your wound and biting on the towel became useless. You screamed your lungs out until the towel fell from your mouth and John can feel his heart ripped off his chest as you cried in pain, your face paler than ever before.

"Arthur, bring the opium. She needs it," Tommy demand but Polly stop Arthur as he hand Tommy hers.

"John..." You whisper, feeling dizzy and everyone it's looking at you now. He is rolling a bandage on your shoulder, but he quickly look right into your eyes.

"You did that for me so many times...Now it's my turn"

He smiles a little and only because he was glad that you were searching for him. Him, not Polly or any of his brothers. Only him. You manage to smile a little and Poll helps you rising your head so Tommy could made you drink the whisky combined with opium.

"You are wonderful love." Polly said and she kiss your forehead just like a mother would. Your eyes are almost closed already, but you can feel that John is still holding your hands while kissing your wrists.

"Thank ya [Y/N]..Don't leave on us, right. Don't leave Johnny boy, he woulda be a dead man walkin without you"

Your lips curve into a smile as you close your eyes, still hearing all of them, but not being able to react.

"Sleep. We will be here when you wake up." Tommy softly speaks and he probably shushed everyone cause the room became quiet.

You fell deep into the sleep when John took you to a room, gently place you on the bed as he just stand there watching over you. His brothers probably needs him outside, but he just can't leave your side. He eventually fall sleep right next to you.

When you wake up you are dizzy as if you were drunk out of your minds last night, but you know you weren't. You remember what happened and even if you didn't, the pain in your shoulder as you moved in the bed was still there so it's wasn't just a dream.

You look at your side and you see John, sleeping in a incommode position in his shirt, the rest of his clothes on the floor. You remember how scared he was, just like you are when he came to you injured so many times and you had to put him on his feet again. You smile as you lift your healthy hand into his hair, brushing it off his forehead. He is lightly snoring and you can't help but chuckle at how cute he is.

"I love you so much" You hear yourself whispering before you could think at what you are really saying.

John was always a light sleeper, even more after the war, so of course he heard you.

"Just as I love ya. You scared the shit outta me girl."

His beautiful grin was back on his face and you smile grew bigger as he softly kissed you after so many years of only dreaming about this.

[blaster-aichi]

Cardfight!! Vanguard Extra Story IF 20 things

changing up the formula for the week

12 seconds in and we’re threatening murder, a new record.

What did we do to deserve Miwa and what did he do to deserve the treatment he gets from the writers?

When there are only bits and pieces of his original memories coming through, having the most nightmarish moment be one of them, one could only imagine how unsettling it is for one poor ultra-soft boy. And if it might cause him to sympathize with Aichi’s belief in brief moments, from undeniable proof that engaging in Vanguard has hurt a number of people around them.

Weekly yearning for the relationship between Outside World and IF World to get an explanation rises.

IF continuing with the softest Kai-kun faces, cause of death determined. That is all.

The fact that Morikawa’s dismissal serves towards the plot is startling, but at the same time, in-universe, it’s still baffling why he was chosen as opposed to anyone else. Perhaps because of his role in Aichi’s actively playing the game? But otherwise, drawing a blank.

There is a lot to say about the Kourin/Miwa scene, see below.

Semi-sortof-half-right about the Miwa/Takuto collusion but also see below.

Weekly yearning for the relationship between Outside World and IF World to get an explanation intensifies.

The Dinner Table Scene. Rena.exe has stopped working. See below, I flip the table.

This is the most adorable thing ever and boys, PLEASE.

Miwa picks up the mantle of roasting characters, the KaiMiwa is strong.

Pot. Kettle. Mirror. Bitch?

The choice to have Dragonic Overlord’s Deletion visually mirror its occurrence during the cardfight-based season is a strong choice; due to its haunting Kai-kun since it penetrated the IF illusion, and his facing Ibuki without letting any distress showing, in spit of what he’s seen, it demonstrates just the strength of his character and builds on his being able to take the punches and roll with them thus far.

Everyday, I relate to Kai Toshiki even more.

Very much appreciate Emi chiming in where Ibuki is concerned because though the emphasis is on his relationships with Kai-kun, Miwa and Suiko, their time understanding one another in episode 7 remains a personal favourite thing from the season.

Suiko’s intervention to protect Emi and Shuka; yes, yes, yes! Best big sister doing her thing.

Along the same line of thought; Miwa taking the bullet to save Kai-kun feels a natural conclusion to his role within IF, but also playing upon how he stressed Kai-kun’s happiness was his priority in his cardfight with Neve. His strongest trait through the franchise has been his dedication to his best friend, no matter the cost to himself, and seeing that occur in the literal sense feels as though it was always a case of when, not if. Although with the likely remaining time left in the season and its focus, there won’t be a spotlight shone on it again or for Kai-kun to really convey his feelings about it, it was nice to see and think about through the day after.

Episode 102: the KaiMiwa edition.

All Hail the Overlords and their Realizing.

Kai-kun takes back his other part-time job of literally roasting people with Miwa gone.

Though it’s likely down to how he was recruited into the Sanctuary Knights (and his past being repaired erasing the entire ordeal from his perspective), Ibuki’s lost memories of joining them begs the question of the fate of everyone’s memories once the timeline is fully restored, given it hasn’t been made clear if there are two different versions of characters that exist or their Outside World selves pulled inside and overwritten to fit IF’s continuity. Cases such as Emi, Aichi and Kourin in particular, seeing as Naoki, Shingo and Miwa have thus far retained their memories of IF despite returning Outside.

Not entirely sure why Kourin is so aggravated by the Sanctuary Knights’ numbers thinning when Naoki, Shingo and Miwa felt much more like nuisances to her and it means she’s alone on Aichi’s side. But okay, play cosmic fuckery with your sisters.

IF 21 preview

Rekka sighted. Hopes raised for her re-entering the story properly raised. Hopes realized when the preview caps from Bushi’s Twitter confirm as much

The season that continues its joke of memeing anime deaths.

With the perspective of Kourin’s weekly nightmarish face and the typical use of the angle, eager to see the girls getting the upper-hand over her, as it dawned on me that Naoki and Shingo had weekly stints being the main antagonistic force but Kourin, in essence, is on four and counting. And with the jarring fact that Aichi’s just sitting back, possibly oblivious, possibly not?

The unidentified Sanctuary Knight in the preview had gotten hopes up that Misaki was finally entering the fray but the aforementioned tweet popped that like a Genshin Impact Anemo slime. Rude.

the four breakdowns (for comical effect, it was one Wild call)

Takuto: From what’s been shown of Takuto, one could summise that he’s unable to leave Sanctuary by some force Aichi (or Kourin, with or without using Aichi to do it) has imposed on him, but considering his position, his personality doesn’t quite fit. With the gravity of the situation, particularly when he had pinpointed Aichi as the strongest Psyqualia fighter and (Destiny Conductor) personally input extra restraints to keep him under control, with him being the enemy, it's puzzling how Takuto is so lax. Even more in that he didn’t use Miwa as a means of passing on any message to the other Tatsunagis. While he couldn’t be expected to know Ren and Rekka were dispatched specifically to find him, one would imagine it was natural there would be someone coming and he may have been able to offer anything from within Sanctuary and its populous. But apparently not.

Kourin: To be honest, the way in which Kourin is being handled rubs me the wrong way, and in a different way from Legion Mate (if anything, its the very opposite problem to then in some regards). It appears to be a sentiment spreading among viewers, at least from what have been able to discern. But in regards to this episode alone, she’s proven herself atrocious at her job. Why wander around a public school in her Sanctuary Knight uniform? Why alert Miwa to her being outside the door? Why divulge essentially her entire job description when all he said was her name? Why are you hovering in a public school? Also has no room to talk about Suiko and Ibuki with how she is around Aichi, let alone around the other Sanctuary Knights and playing bodyguard between the two. It feels with each week she becoming even more territorial and possessive of Aichi.

The Dinner Table Scene: This was initially what really stood out as jarring. The scene feels out of place in many regards; from Aichi’s behaviour to its serving no purpose (not when Takuto’s very last line right before it already established they’re two peas in a pod).                  If anything, it strikes as antithetical to IF Aichi until this point; it’s possible to excuse his lack of reacting to Naoki’s removal from the scene in 18 as being kept in the dark to keep him from struggling to process the news, but with the time that’s passed and losing two others, there’s no way in hell he isn’t aware. Yet he isn’t fazed, not even when Vanguard has essentially ripped away people from him and played right into his beliefs.                 The choice of setting is peculiar; was it just for the gag of Ibuki having a biscuit for a meal? (does Kourin get groceries in her uniform too?) To be truthful, it feels like the two could have met elsewhere in the castle — the throne room, Aichi’s quarters, a corridor where the city could be seen through a window with Ibuki’s back to it (or it behind Aichi so Ibuki could watchthe view past him) — whether Kourin was involved or not, but additionally, Aichi’s acceptance of Ibuki (and in spite of their past and the Deletion, which hazard a guess he remembers in full) simply doesn’t feel coherent. With how vicious they were to one another, even with the dust settling and them both moving on plus Ibuki’s role in IF thus far, wouldn’t it make sense that there would be some tension between them? The scene as a whole encapsulated some of the concerns that had at points during the season, though it’s redeemed itself with some. But where Aichi is concerned, I worry greatly it’s much like Legion Mate where it feels they don’t know what to do with him and are putting off him making a move personally until the end, drawing out Kourin and the new element of fuckery with characters’ pasts.                    Don’t want to get down on this season, it’s got its highs and lows like any other, but the episode in particular was concerning and this scene was the pinnacle of those feelings. It could sweep those worries aside with a great episode (for like the fourth time because it keeps coming back strong when alarm bells ring).

The Pacing: Courtney initially mentioned the episode feeling rushed and when sitting down and thinking it over, have to say that agree. Assuming IF is running a tight schedule with OverDress around the corner, it probably wouldn’t have had the time, but it may have benefitted from the episode being drawn across two. It would have allowed time for Kai-kun and Suiko to try and grapple with Ibuki turning coat, as well as draw out the tension of his being on the enemy’s side, the rapid resolution takes away the threat that has been made to Suiko in her own predicament, and Miwa could have been allowed more time to fully flesh out his actions thus far, as well as anything else that his meeting with Takuto could have provided. Though we’re all well familiar with him, there could have been more glmpses into the unique friendship he has with IF Kai-kun and how it might have contrasted their Outside World’s selves’.

Probably debunked super-fast again but will dream:

Misaki’s absence due to her being Aichi’s Sanctuary Knight secret weapon:

Stemmed from the glimpse of the Sanctuary Knight in the preview and the hype that it might have been Misaki’s re-introduction to the story, given her disappearance since epi 8, even when Kamui returned and Shin filled in her gimmick at Card Capital in epi 16. With the emphasis on Miyaji in Reboot, her lack of presence has been particularly strange, with not so much as a passing mention other than her appearance in the ED. Judging by Kourin and Aichi alone appearing in the preview, it feels safe to say she, Naoki and Shingo won’t be a part of the illusion being forced upon Suiko, prolonging this. Maybe Izumi is simply busy with other work and reading too much into it, but dreamt up a theory for the heck of it.

Whether to recruit the Miyaji Cardfight Club as a whole or in response to identifying Kourin’s apparent independent agenda, Aichi brought Misaki aboard, keeping her a secret from even Kourin and the other Sanctuary Knights. With Kourin overstepping her boundaries and their numbers withering, Aichi’s patience runs out and Misaki is revealed, usurping Kourin’s place by Aichi’s side and delivering a devastating blow to her, who has been fiercely loyal to him but recognizes how far gone he has been driven. Misaki’s appearance is coupled with her verbally tearing into Kourin and dealing her comeuppance (which honestly, she really deserves and has for some time now), Aichi may or may not be there so that the sight of himself and Misaki continuing on without her twists the knife.

It would also echo the interactions between the Psyqualia Zombie Aichi and Misaki, with Kourin watching on helplessly with Naoki and Shingo. Just thought it’d be a neat call-back.