#dude you’re not supposed to be at an abandoned warehouse why are you here

[rainpunk07]

hear me out, danny speaking russian (dc x dp hc)

so i was just watching a video about space, right? allegedly, turns out if you (an american) wanna board the international space station you must speak russian fluently since the only way to get there is by a russian shuttle and pilot (nasa apparently ended their own shuttle program way back when??) (don’t quote me on this)

so picture danny learning russian at a relatively young age for the sole hope of going to space and such, and it coming out every once in a while when he’s mumbling or something like that (it’s basically second nature to him)

so danny ends up at gotham for whatever reason (demon twins, reveal gone wrong, idc, they’re all cool) and he wants to start anew, so he pretends to only speak russian?? ig?? it’d make for some funny/interesting BatFam interactions i suppose

i don’t know where i was going with this but i want to read prompts of danny speaking russian

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

[darethshirl]

Entry for zevwarden week (@zevraholics), Zevran/Male!Mahariel, 500 words

Day 4: Alternate Universes

                                                  —

Zevran knew how it felt to hold a gun.

He knew the weight of it when holstered, wrapped around his torso and resting on his shoulder blade, or hidden and strapped next to his ankle. He knew the metal tang it left on his skin, the imperceptible scent of gunpowder in the air after each use. The percussion of a shot reverberating through his knucklebones, the ringing in his ears that lingered long after he’d started running. Really, one could say he had intimate knowledge of guns and all they implied.

What he didn't know was how it felt to have a muzzle pressed to his throat, right against the vulnerable spot of his drumming heartbeat.

The man that was Zevran's target clicked off his gun's safety, the sound echoing in the abandoned warehouse. His eyes were dark, his gaze steady, and his expression… displeased.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here and now."

Zevran swallowed delicately. There was a bead of sweat making its torturously slow way down his back. "What can I possibly say? Anyone else in your position would have already pulled the trigger."

That earned him a raised eyebrow. "You're not even going to try to convince me?"

"Very well, if you'd like to play it that way." Zevran licked his lips, then spread them in a wide, almost charming grin. "I can tell you who sent me."

"I already know who sent you."

"I can tell you who hired the ones who sent me."

"I know that too." The man's brow furrowed, his mouth twisting with disdainful anger. "Loghain isn't exactly subtle."

"Ah, well. I suppose that leaves us at an impasse, no? The only other thing I have to offer is my body." Zevran chuckled darkly, letting his eyes do the dirty work of implication through sheer habit. "And I doubt you'd want the skills of an assassin that already failed to kill you."

The man—Mahariel, Zevran suddenly thought, the memory of a grainy photograph next to the target info flashing in his mind—remained silent. He stared down at Zevran with an inscrutable, calculating gaze.

"Are you a junkie?" he demanded, sounding charmingly sincere.

"Please," Zevran scoffed, more than a little offended. "The Crows have more subtle ways of keeping us bound."

A few more minutes stretched silently between them, the air heavy with tension. Zevran resisted the urge to fidget. This is how you'll die, he told himself, dangerously close to a hysterical laugh.

Mahariel stayed still for a second, two, then abruptly retracted his gun. "Fine."

"Fine?" Zevran had clearly missed a step, his mind stuttering as he caught up to reality. "What do you mean, fine?"

"I mean fine, you can join us."

The rest of Mahariel's team shifted behind him, hisses of alarm and displeasure ringing out. "Dude, seriously?" said the blond man carrying a shotgun, his voice cracking with disbelief.

"Yes, seriously." Mahariel shoved his gun down the back of his jeans—Zevran winced at the indelicacy of the motion—and speared Zevran with another of his penetrating stares. "How about it, Crow? Wanna join us?"

Still that hysterical laugh, threatening to shake Zevran to his roots. He allowed some of it free, huffing a laugh that turned into a grin as sharp as a knife. "How can I say no?"

Mahariel answered with a smile of his own, the subtle curl of his mouth sending a jolt of adrenaline straight to Zevran's core.

"Then welcome to the team."

[elareine]

If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching What Is and What Should Never Be

Welcome to “Dean Dreams of Jeannie and Mowing and Dead Moms, Oh My!: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

 Up today, s2,e20: What Is and What Should Never Be

 Dean is driving around alone while Sammy is researching lore on djinns. Sammy has Dean scoping out an area where he thinks the djinn might be hiding and taking victims. When Dean enters an abandoned warehouse, he’s attacked by a djinn and then wakes up in an apartment in Lawrence next to a beautiful woman named Carmen. The boys’ mom is alive, their dad died recently in his sleep, Sam is in law school, and Dean is a mechanic dating Carmen, a respectable nurse. But Sam and Dean are practically estranged, and since none of the Winchesters have ever been hunting things and saving people, a whole lot of people are dead who should have lived. It’s Dean’s version of a lovely life, conjured for him by the djinn, and he has to fight his desire for a normal life to get out of it.

 Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

 [and we begin:]

 Mace:

 chicks DO dig the danger vibe

  Lor:

 YES WE DO

Lor:

omg Dean and his TV habits. 60s SITCOMS. I love him

  Mace:

 YAS

he dreams of Jeannie

  Lor:

 YEAH HE DOES

I had a brief crush on the dude on that show as a kid

  Mace:

 HAHAHAHA awesome

I always wanted to BE her

i loved her little lamp pad

  Lor:

 ooo NICE

i had a crush on Samantha from Bewitched though

 the horror movie on TV

 THE NECKLACE AND NO SHIRT

  Mace:

 NICE

 YES and YAAASSS

  Lor:

 and it's not the samulet. because of course it isn't

  Mace:

 omg Sam’s little smile on the phone

 of course it isn't

  Lor:

 YES

and the closing the law book when he was doing lore research before

  Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 the kind of grimace in the kill

*kiss. omg

  Mace:

 HAHAHA OMG

  Lor:

 oh Dean. this bit kills me

 AND THE HORN

  Mace:

 yeah

  Lor:

 "I don't know" and his voice

  Mace:

 I wonder, do other djinn victims fight the illusion like this/are they aware something’s not right, or is it just Dean

  Lor:

 oooo interesting question

  Mace:

 ANGEL(s) ARE WATCHING OVER YOU, DEAN

  Lor:

 YEAH THEY ARE

  Mace:

 “you’re beautiful” DEAD

DEAN WINCHESTER, YOU NUGGET

  Lor:

 YES

he's such a sweetheart

  Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 her "excuse me"

  Mace:

 yeah

  Lor:

 omg my little touch-starved muffin

  Mace:

 RIGHT?!

  Lor:

 "no no I don't think they can really do it"

  Mace:

 HAHAHA

  Lor:

 he should be more excited

  Mace:

 i think he’s...concerned

  Lor:

 well, fair

 "everybody keeps asking me that but uh... no"

  Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 pets him

  Mace:

 “we’re civilians"

  Lor:

 YES

 Dean, honey, I'm gonna need you to pay more attention to things in the road, just generally

  Mace:

 snork

  Mace:

 omg his delight at mowing the lawn

  Lor:

 the look she gives him "what is with this one?"

 YES

and the music!

and he's bad at it

I love it

  Mace:

 that this is part of his perfect world is so flipping SAD

  Lor:

 YES

  Mace:

 his wants are so simple yet so unattainable

  Lor:

 YES

he just wants to have a cold beer on the step after mowing the lawn

  Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 he is SO HAPPY for everyone else

  Mace:

 YES

 “I’ve just got low standards” HAHAHA

she’s saucy

  Lor:

 YES

 oh Dean. your self-esteem, hon. maybe an angel could come along and tell you how awesome you are

  Mace:

 I need to know how much of this is the djinn and how much of it is the force of Dean’s will and his self-doubt skewing the illusion the djinn is trying to give him

  Lor:

 YES

 "so... respectable"

  Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 I wanna know what the necklace IS

  Mace:

 oooh yeah

  Lor:

 "why's it my job to save these people? why do I have to be some kind of hero?"

  Mace:

 YAS

  Lor:

 god the silent crying

  Mace:

 he’s Odysseus and Aeneas wrapped up in a SNACK BOX

 YES

  Lor:

 HAAAAAHAHAHA snack box omg

  Mace:

 takes a bow

  Lor:

 wow that bit is an echo from the pilot when Dean first comes into Sam's apartment. I don't think I ever realized that before

 "Sam, I'm sorry."

gaaaaaah

  Mace:

 yep and YEP

  Lor:

 "you're supposed to say jerk" ooof

  Mace:

 “what are you calling me a bitch for?"

  HAHAHAHA

YES

  Lor:

 YES

 I love how casual he is about taking the phone and throwing it out the window

  Mace:

 “oh, that’s hilarious"

 YES

  Lor:

 "we're not in Kansas anymore" DEAN I LUFF YOU

  Mace:

 YES

have we talked about the theory that you can’t go more than a week without hearing or seeing a reference to the wizard of oz?

  Lor:

 what NO?!

  Mace:

 this guy I went to grad school with posed the theory and it’s true. or at least it was 20 years ago

  Lor:

 iiiiinteresting

now I have to keep notes, of course

  Mace:

 we used to shout out “REFERENCE” every time we saw or heard one, which generally was more than once a week

  Lor:

 NICE

  Mace:

 I super love this version of the djinn

  Lor:

YES

he is cool and CREEEPY

  Mace:

 YES

and a creative interpretation of the myths

  Lor:

 "this is real? you're not crazy?"

 YES

  Mace:

 this is where I go a bit cross-eyed, though: HOW is he here and in the illusion at the same time?!

or does that gets explained and I just don’t remember

  Lor:

 I don't get how this works though. how can he be DREAMING and also be where this is actually happening? or is he slightly waking up and seeing her and then working it into the dream?

  Lor:

 HAAAAHAHAHA OMG MACE

  Mace:

 HAHAHAHAH OMG LOR

HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 lololololololol

 oh look, Dean's explaining it to us

  Mace:

 HA

  Lor:

 "like 90% sure"

  Mace:

 HAHAHA

  Lor:

 "it's still better than anything you had"

gaaaaah

AND he still mostly gives the good things to other people

  Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 "get some rest"

does a little jig and sings a little song that goes "fuck 327"

  Mace:

 YAAASSS

 REFERENCE!

  Lor:

 Iiiiii might REALLY like it when he's sick-looking

 YAS

  Mace:

 HAHAHA YES

  Lor:

 ouch, Sammy, your head DANG

  Mace:

 always with the head

  Lor:

 yeah

Sam gets hit in the head, Dean gets sexually assaulted

there is SUCH a paper in there somewhere

  Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 oooof Carmen is a beer ad

oh Dean

 Sam is wearing that shirt I love

  Mace:

 YAS

  Lor:

 "yeah lucky me"

  Mace:

 OOOF

  Lor:

 "I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay so bad" gaaaaaah

  Mace:

 AAAAAAAAAA

  Lor:

 "it's worth it" and then the look on Dean's faaaaaaaace

  Mace:

 YEEEESSS

  Lor:

sigh one of my favs, that one

  Mace:

 it’s really good

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

That Escalated Quickly

Summary: Reader goes to a party with her friends to gather info on a new group of vampires in town that want Klaus dead. However, she’s kidnapped and Klaus must rescue her. The result? An eternity with the love of her life I suppose.

TW/CW: Klaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader. Canon violence ig? Blood, gun and gunshot wound, knife and stab wound, yeah canon violence about sums it up well.

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,788

A/N: So, I googled whether a human dying with Klaus’s blood in their system would actually make them a vampire but I didn’t find anything so let’s just assume it would lol. Also, this turned out way longer than I had expected/planned. It’s been quite a while since I’ve watched tvd so I apologize if the transition is inaccurate :/ Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read! Requests are open and as always, love to all! P.S. when I say I would simp for this man... he and Elijah would be the death of meeeee.

Prompt: “Too bad the party is going to be hosted by people who want you dead. I heard they have a chocolate fountain.”   “Don’t tempt me.”

Your POV

    I adjust my outfit in the mirror as my boyfriend enters the room behind me. “My don’t you look ravishing,” he says as he wraps his arms around my waist and places soft kisses along my neck. I giggled at the tickle of his stubble and worm my way out of his arms to add the finishing touches to my outfit.  

    I notice him pouting out of the corner of my eye and make my way back to him as I finish my outfit, “Too bad the party is going to be hosted by people who want you dead. I heard they have a chocolate fountain.”

    “Don’t tempt me,” he responds as I kiss his cheek and make my way out of our room to head downstairs and join the others. He follows closely behind and when I finally come to a stop downstairs, he wraps me in his arms once again and this time he full on buries his face in my neck. I can tell he’s not happy about the current mission. There’s a new group of vampires in Mystic Falls, the leader of which does not like Klaus at all. From what I heard it’s probably for a good reason but I’m not exactly keen on letting my boyfriend get killed for a mistake he made in the past.

    Klaus is under orders to stay home and Elijah and Rebekah are staying behind to ensure that he follows said orders. Elena, Jeremy, Bonnie, Matt, Alaric and myself will be mingling among the party guests in attempts to pick up any information we can about the new vampires but of course at the request of Klaus and supply of Alaric and Jeremy, we’ll all be armed with stakes. Damon, Stefan, Caroline, and Tyler are all tasked with discretely patrolling the perimeter and listening for whatever they can. For the most part, they’re there in case we need back up.  

    I take the stake offered to me by Alaric and stuff it into the sleeve of my jacket and look around to make sure everyone is ready. As they are, I pry myself away from Klaus and press a quick kiss to his lips before heading out, “I’ll be fine, babe. Try not to worry too much while we’re gone.” I join the others outside and then we head off for the party.

    Upon entering the house, my senses are already overwhelmed by the smell of booze and the deep bass thumping music. I follow Elena and Bonnie off towards the kitchen for a drink and leave the guys at the door looking around like lost puppies. I glance back and chuckle at the looks on their faces before turning back around to make sure I don’t lose Elena and Bonnie. We somehow manage to find something non-alcoholic in the kitchen and pour each of ourselves some to drink before departing the kitchen to wander among the crowd filling the large house.

    Everything goes without a hitch for quite some time but the information pool is pretty dry. Finally, I decide that my bladder can’t take much more and head for the bathroom with promises to Elena and Bonnie to meet them and the guys back in the kitchen when I’m done. I find the bathroom without any issues, do my business, and then start to head back to the kitchen when I bump into a man who’s blocking the long hallway. “Uh, dude? Could you move? I need to get through,” I say as I try to go around him but he sidesteps to block my path.

    “You’ll make excellent bait,” comes a scratchy voice behind me.

    I turn around to face the newcomer, “Excuse me?”  

    “His scent is all over you. Don’t act stupid,” is his only answer. Shit. I drop the stake out of my sleeve and into my hand but before I can even begin to think of an escape plan, the man behind me grabs the stake and tosses it off behind him. Next thing I know, everything goes black and I have a splitting headache.

Third Person POV

    Elena and Bonnie pause their conversation as Alaric, Jeremy, and Matt make their way over. Elena tilts her head, “Hey, did you guys happen to see (Y/n) on your way in here?”

    They all shake their head and Alaric answers, “No, why? Should we be worried?”     Elena and Bonnie share a look. “Possibly,” Bonnie answers, “She went to the bathroom about 20 minutes ago and still isn’t back.”

    “I’ll go outside and let Damon and the others know. You four split up and see if you can find her,” Alaric orders before heading to the front door, the others splitting up to search as he does. Once he steps outside, Alaric pulls his phone out and dials Damon’s number.  

    It only rings once before the oldest Salvatore picks up, “Yeah, what’s up?”

    “We’ve lost track of (Y/n) the girl’s said she went to the bathroom about 20 minutes ago but they haven’t seen her since. They’re inside with Jeremy and Matt looking for her now,” Alaric answers promptly.

    “Alright, looks like they took the bait. I’ll let Elijah know, we’ll need Klaus to track her down,” comes Damon’s response.

    “Are we sure that’s a good idea? This guy wants Klaus dead,” Alaric inquires once again for the third time this evening.     “I told you, Klaus can handle himself. The only reason he’s not here is because (Y/n) insisted that he stay out of danger,” Damon replies with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

    “Okay, if you say so. I’ll round up the others and we can head back to the house for him,” Alaric says before hanging up the phone and heading back inside. Almost immediately he finds Elena, Bonnie, Jeremy, and Matt waiting for him.

    Elena who’s on the phone perks up, “Hello! (Y/n)? Where are you?” She’s quiet as whoever is on the other end of the line says something. She looks at the others with concern plastered across her face, “I swear if you hurt her-” she’s interrupted and listens for a moment before hanging up the phone angrily and storming out of the house with the others in hot pursuit. Elena stomps over to where the vampires and werewolf have gathered, “They have her. They gave an address and said to make sure Klaus comes alone.”

    “Oh, he’s going to be pissed,” Tyler adds.

    “What are we going to do? We can’t just send Klaus in alone, can we?” Caroline questions the group.

    Stefan, Damon, and Alaric all seem to share a look before Stefan answers, “We’ll leave that decision up to him.” With that, everyone climbs into the vehicles and heads back towards the Mikaelson’s home.

    When the group piles out of the vehicles and steps inside the house, Klaus storms over, “Where is she?”

    “Klaus, would you slow down and get your head on straight before you go barging into danger?” Rebekah pleas with her brother.

    “Where. Is. She?” Klaus barks.

    Everyone exchanges glances at each other, silently arguing over who will be the one to tell him. Finally, Elena speaks up, “There’s an old warehouse just outside of town. They have her there. They said to come alone.”

    Without saying another word, Klaus is gone. Everyone looks to Elijah who takes a deep breath, “We’ll follow but we’ll keep our distance. If I know my brother, he won’t want to put her in any more danger than she’s already in, even if it means risking his life.”

    As they all head off in pursuit of Klaus, Rebekah speaks up again, “Surely, they can’t actually kill him, can they? He’s a bloody Original for crying out loud.”

    “I don’t know, Rebekah. All we can do right now is hope for the best,” Elijah answers.

Your POV     I open my eyes slowly but the bright lights overhead still hurt my eyes. I look around and find myself in an old abandoned warehouse. My arms are chained to a rafter above my head and my feet are shackled to the floor. A tall, scraggly looking man steps into view, “Ah you’re awake.”

    I recognize that voice as one of the men that ambushed me, “You’re pretty brave, you know that? You must be to kidnap the girlfriend of an original vampire.”

    “Awwww boo hoo, he’s getting what he deserves,” the man mocks. Then the front door of the warehouse is kicked down and in walks my boyfriend.

    I glare at him with a frown on my face, “I thought I told you to keep your ass out of danger?”

    “Did you really think I’d listen?” he responds before launching himself after the men around me. It seems almost instantly that the men are wiped out. However, not before one of them manages to run me through with a knife. I can tell I don’t have long but Klaus breaks the chains holding my arms up and gently lays me on the ground, placing my head in his lap. He bites a gash into his forearm before placing it to my lips. I can sense the others gathering around us as I let Klaus’s blood enter my system. Within mere seconds the wound on my abdomen closes up and stops bleeding. Klaus helps me to my feet and we begin to follow the others back out to the vehicles. Suddenly, I hear a gunshot and feel immense pain in my back.  

    The man swears but is quickly cut off by Elijah who rips the man’s heart out of his chest. Klaus clutches me close to him, “I’m sorry, love. I should’ve been more careful.”

    I laugh softly, “It’s alright, this was bound to happen eventually.”

    When I wake up again, I find myself in mine and Klaus’s bedroom. Upon entering the room, Klaus notices that I’m awake and offers me a glass of what’s presumably blood. I down the glass as he climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me. He presses a kiss to my forehead before asking, “What did you mean when you said that this was bound to happen eventually?”

    I shrug and wipe my mouth, “It’s not like I want to grow old and die when I have such an amazing boyfriend and friends that I’d leave behind.”

    “I suppose that’s fair, but I’d much rather you not have to go through all this,” he replies quietly.

    “Don’t start blaming yourself. That will only make matters worse. Besides, I have basically have the professionals of how to be a vampire to teach me, I’ll be okay,” I laugh softly and cuddle closer into his chest before dozing off to sleep.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii​ @akshi8278​ 

[bnha-butterfly]

Chapter 1: A Brand New Bodyguard

MASTERLIST   || Join the Taglist

Chapter warning: none

 Bakugou knows he is utterly fucked when he lays eyes on you. Sitting in a meeting with your father looking like something out of a magazine. Or at least you would have looked out of a magazine had it not been for the utter look of annoyance on your face. You seemed like you wanted to be anywhere but here and he could already tell you would be a handful. He walks in behind Enji, your father’s right hand man and comes to a stop in front of you. He can feel your eyes looking at him. They feel laser sharp and oppressive. He should have expected this type of coldness from the boss's kid.

“(Y/n) this is Bakugou, he’s gonna be your new private security detail. Try not to break this one yeah?” He hears your father say with an exasperated sigh.

“I make no promises.” Your voice is golden honey dripping off your tongue and if Bakugou didn’t think he was fucked earlier he knows its game over when he looks at you. Sees the smirk on your full lips and the look of mischief dancing just behind your eyes. Your expression says “ I have crushed men bigger than you” and he’s starting to wonder if being assigned as your security detail is punishment for fucking something up.

He watches as you stand up and check the time on your phone. Your lips quirk up into a smile. You stretch and let out a sigh. “Well I have an appointment to attend back at the house. I’ll have to talk with you all later.” You turn on your heels and head to the door, and he doesn't realize that he’s supposed to be following behind until you're already at the door with your eyes on him. “We don't have all day Mr.Bodyguard.”

 He falls in place behind you quietly. The soft noise of shoes on hardwood was all that filled the hall as you headed out to one of your fathers cars. You never understood why you needed a bodyguard. Yes, you were the child to the country's most notorious mafia boss. But, you weren’t some spoiled brat. You could shoot a gun as well as any of your father’s top men and to be quite honest you were the one really running the show. Your father was just being stubborn about officially handing everything over to you. But, you both knew you were the real one pulling the strings.

You step out of the abandoned looking warehouse that served as your fathers headquarters and towards the lavish looking black car that pulled up in the alley way. You stood in front of the car for a second. Turning your head and cocking your eyebrow at your new bodyguard. It took everything in you not to suck your teeth when your look was met with confusion? Okay, so nobody briefed him. Great. One more thing for you to do today.

 You opened the car door for yourself and settled in. Once the both of you were settled the driver started to make their way towards the place you called home. The utter silence in the car was thick and awkward. Seeing as you were heading into a rather important meeting you decided now would be the best time to brief him. You let out a soft sigh before shifting to face Bakugou to the best of your ability.

 “Let me guess nobody told you anything more than the fact that you're going to be my bodyguard. You weren’t briefed by Enji or anyone?” You know the answer but you ask anyway.

 “No. That dude Enji just approached me one day last week after a hit. Told me that I’d be your bodyguard for a while.” He says, voice deep and gravely. But, you're not focusing on his voice. You're too busy thinking about how you’re gonna have to rip Enji a new asshole for not briefing the blonde bodyguard despite having a whole week.

“Well I guess that's my job then apparently. Hi, the names (y/n) and I’m the ringleader of this circus we call the House of Thorns.” You extend your right hand out for a handshake.

 “Bakugou Katsuki. What do you mean you're the ringleader? Aren’t you just the boss's kid.” He asks as he shakes your hand. His palm feels warm against yours bordering on hot. Your (e/c) eyes come to meet his ruby ones.

 “Tell me the truth.. Is that what all you lower ranks take me for? The boss’s spoiled kid?”

 Something flashes in your eyes and Bakugou feels as his brain become clouded by a heavy fog. You watch his ruby eyes glaze over. A tell-tale sign of your quirk taking effect and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Got him” you think.

 “Most of them, yeah. All the ones that haven’t met you or have only seen you from afar at least. You can’t really blame them tho. I mean whenever you’re at HQ you always look perfect. Not a single hair out of place. It’s hard to think that someone as delicate looking as you is anything else other than just another spoiled rich kid. Hard to imagine you in a tussle or a shoot out.”

 The words leave his mouth and he can feel the fog lift from his brain. Well he was dead. He just called the Boss’s kid spoiled right to their face. He waits for the screaming, for the anger only to be met with...laughter? You were struggling to suppress your laughter.

 “So that’s what those low rank pawns think, huh? I would say interesting, but that’s kind of expected from those types. And you can drop the tension in your shoulders. My quirk forces people to tell the truth. Wouldn’t make sense for me to get mad at what you said seeing as I pretty much forced you to say it.” You say as you settle back into the seat of the car.

 "However, let me get this one thing through your head. While my old man may be the official head of the house. I'm the one really running the show." Your eyes sparkle with something fiery behind them and Bakugou all but forgets how to breathe. So he just nods in acknowledgement of your words.

 "You'll see that firsthand soon enough though. I'll brief you after this meeting, just stand behind me and look intimidating. Although, I doubt you'll have trouble doing that."

A/N: A lot of readers personality is based off of Loretta Christiano from Gangsta. Tbh a lot of my general inspiration for this is based off of Gangsta. There’s a good chance that I’ll be doing some world building soon to really cement the setting.

Taglist: (if your name is bold I couldn’t tag you)

  @lilsparkyswife​

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Good Business: Part 16

Fandom: Marvel (Mob AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a ruthless mobster. He’s also referred to as Big Buck due to his towering strong frame as well as his round stomach. You’re the owner of a small diner, a place that Big Buck decides to visit. Based off this drabble.

A/N: uuuummmmm....do people still care about this story?

warning: violence

You’re sitting in the back of the cop car, leg bouncing while you wait for Steve to respond. 

You: SOS

You let out a breath of relief when Steve texts back:

Steve: what’s going on?

You: with the cops, not getting a good vibe. supposedly going to the station, but i don’t think we are.

Steve: what’s your location?

You immediately send him your location and you’re hoping to whatever almighty above that you’re not dying today.

__________________

Bucky’s phone is buzzing on his desk and he’s looking over some papers when he mindlessly answers it, “Hello?”

“We have a situation,” he hears Steve say in a very serious tone. 

Bucky immediately sits up straight on high alert, “Rumlow?”

“Maybe? Y/N texted me and told me she was being brought in by some officers, but she has a bad feeling. What do you want me to do?”

Bucky clenches his jaw and runs a hand over his beard, “Do you know where she is?”

“She sent me her location.”

“Good. Find her. Get her and bring her to one of the houses upstate. I’m gonna pack some stuff and head back,” he immediately grabs the papers he was looking over and stuffing them into files. He then took the files and tossed them into his desk drawer. 

“Buck, is this really a good idea?”

He pauses, thinking over his options, “At this point, I think I’m done playing nice with Rumlow, Steve. He’s messed with me, my business, my family, everyone I’ve ever cared about for too long. It’s time to show him who the real boss is.”

_______________

You’re not really surprised when you’re getting further and further away from the busy streets and population. Your palms are starting to get really sweaty and your heart is pounding in your ears. 

“We’re...not going to the station are we?” you manage to ask, but met with silence. 

Like a typical mob movie, you approach what looks like an abandoned building. When the car stops and the door flies open, you fight as much as you can to get away from these men, the uncertainty of your fate weighing down on you.

“What the fuck is going on?! Who are you guys?!”

“It’s in your best interest you stop fighting, sweetheart.” you look up to see a man in what looks like a knock off Dior suit. He’s tall, his hair slicked back and looks like bad news. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you spit out and the man smirks.

“Barnes never mentioned me, huh?” the man walks closer to you, one hand in his pocket, the other twirling a switchblade, “I’m Brock Rumlow, sweetheart, and I just wanna talk.”

“I don’t know where Bucky is! He broke up with me and I haven’t had contact with him since! So whatever macho bullshit is going on between the two of you has nothing to do with me!”

Rumlow chuckles with a shake of his head, “Oh, honey, as soon as you got involved with Barnes, it had everything to do with you. And since him and his family decided to run for the hills, you’re my next best bargaining chip.”

Using the handcuffs the officers carry, they handcuff your wrists behind your back and push you to follow Rumlow into the warehouse. 

The place was just as you expected. Dimly lit, a gross musty smell lingering in the air, and, of course, a single chair waiting in the middle.

“Jeez, dude, how many mob movies and shows have you watched? Really trying to be all big and tough and soprano-esque aren’t ya?” that comment earned you a slap to the face and you chuckle, looking up at the supposed cop that was to protect and serve citizens like you.

“My grandma hits better than you, my dude.”

SMACK!

“Damn, I can see why Barnes like you, sweetheart,” Rumlow states as he sharpens his switchblade, “You’ve got a fire to you, huh?”

“I’m also amazing with my hands. I can show you if you uncuff me,” you say with a sweet smile despite your cheek starting to swell from the blows you’ve taken. The cops snort and start to tie you to the chair with some rope. 

“So, sweetheart,” Brock runs his blade along your cheek and you wince when you feel the ridges slightly scrape along your skin, “let’s have a little fun, shall we?”

You have a mischievous look in your eyes when you smile and say, “Yes, let’s.” with that, you kick one of the cops that was tying your legs to the chair. The action causing Rumlow to stumble back and fall on his ass.

You took the opportunity to stomp onto his hand that reached for his blade, breaking the bones. He cried out in pain and the two dirty cops raced to you. Your hands were still cuffed behind your back, but that didn’t stop you from fighting. 

After Bucky had left you, you decided to take up self-defense classes, afraid something like this would happen. Looks like you were right. 

You give a roundhouse kick to one cop, knocking him out in an instant. The other cop grabbed for his gun, pulling it out, but only to have it kicked out of his hand. You then kick him in the gut making him fall back. That’s when you gave a blow to his face, hearing a crack. He didn’t move after this. 

You looked at Rumlow who clutched his hand in pain, anger in your eyes, “You messed with the wrong girl.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, sweet cheeks.” your ears perk at the familiar voice, your heart pounding. 

You turn to see Bucky, Steve, and the rest of the gang filing into the warehouse armed and dangerous. 

Rumlow chuckled, standing up, “You’re not gonna kill us, Barnes. It’s not fair, you guys against us three? That’s bad form.”

Bucky scoffed, “Bad form? You wanna talk bad form, Rumlow? Bad form is coming onto my territory and shooting my businesses up. Bad form is threatening to kill my family. Bad form is kidnapping the woman I love in order to get to me. I’m done with your shit, Rumlow. There’s only one king of Brooklyn and that’s me.”

With a single shot ringing through the warehouse, Brock Rumlow fell dead with a bullet right between his eyes.

Handing his gun off to Steve, Bucky rushed over to you, cupping your face and examining the damage that’s been done, “Oh, sweet cheeks,” he said somberly.

You shook his head, “It’s not that bad. I mean, check out the other guys,” you nodded to the unconcious dirty cops on the ground. 

“Yeah, about that, what the fuck?? Since when did you learn how to do that shit?”

You shrugged, “I had to be prepared. I’m not some damsel in distress, Barnes.”

Bucky snorted and kissed your head, “No you’re not, sweetheart.”

Steve approached you, jingling the keys to the handcuffs. He unlocked them and you rubbed your wrists, “Don’t know why you called me, Y/N. Looks like you handled yourself just fine.”

“You can never be too sure, Steve.”

He gave you a hug and kiss on the cheek, “Glad to see you’re okay.” then he looks at Bucky, “Now what?”

Bucky scratches at his beard and looks at the three bodies around him, “Get rid of the bodies and any evidence we were here. I’m gonna take Y/N to the hospital-”

“No,” you say with a shake of your head.

He gives you a stern, “Baby, you-”

“I’m fine, Bucky. They’ll heal,” you wrap your arms around his thick bicep, “I just wanna go home with you.”

He sees the desperation in your eyes and he agrees. He sees that you missed him and he missed you too. So how could he deny the chance to be with you again?

“Alright, sweet cheeks. I’ll take you home.” he removes his arm from your embrace, instead protectively wrapping it around your shoulders, “You’re gonna be okay now, baby.” he presses a soft kiss to your head and you both walk back to his car.

Good Business Taglist (CLOSED): @cametobuyplums @sergeantrosabellaswan @asadmarveltrashbag​ @youcanhaveyourspacecowboy​ @reniescarlett​ @j-the-smol-otter @buckysknifecollection @lowkeysebby @rinthehufflepuff @134340-cm @snoot-snoot-toot @seabassali1328 @bluebellhairpin @emzy106 @viarogers @feelmyroarrrr @vxidnik @jasura @jade-cheshire3303 @yknott81 @baliebay19 @jessieray98 @fandommemporiumm @iluvsumbucky @bucksandroses @lecoindenox @ylva-stark @booktease21 @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @cheyenne222222 @momobaby227

[iffeelscouldkill]

say what we wanna do, make it all come true (chapter 1)

A/N: It is! My fic for the Fiction Podcast Big Bang @podcastbigbang! I am a bit terrified to be posting this after working on it for so long! Also this is in the running for the Longest TSCOSI Fic I’ve Written So Far (not sure if it’s the longest because I don’t remember where my wordcount is up to for Adjusting, but like... it’s long, guys). This is Chapter 1 of 3, and the remaining chapters will be posted weekly!

You can read this on AO3 where the formatting is honestly much better, but here it is on Tumblr anyway. Also, please check out the FANTASTIC artwork made for this fic by the wonderful @bluereadingdolphin and @demonic-kitkats, who are my artists for this fic and their artwork is so good, you guys, I’m in love and they did such a phenomenal job with the honestly pretty vague info they got from me 😂 

bluereadingdolphin’s piece

demonic-kitkat’s piece (from Chapter 2!)

Please give them all the love!

Content warnings: There is a relatively brief physical altercation described in this chapter, but it isn’t graphic or bloody.

Also, I play a little fast and loose with POV in this; the first section is told from Sana’s perspective, the rest from Arkady’s.

---

“Hello and welcome back to Radio Indie, Folk and Techno, also known as RIFT, where we play all the bands that matter outside of the mainstream! I’m Piper Tanaka, and I’m your co-host for this programme! I’m joined as usual by the lovely Kestrel Colvin, with Reina Sakamachi in the booth! Now – where were we?”

“You were introducing our guests for this next section,” Kestrel replied in a slightly despairing tone.

“Right! Indie fans, I am joined today by two members of the fabulous up-and-coming indie band Rumor! With me in the studio are frontwoman and lead guitarist Sana Tripathi—”

“Hey! It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“—and bad girl bassist Arkady Patel.”

“Bad girl?” Arkady repeated, sounding halfway between taken aback and annoyed. Kestrel just shook her head.

“Ignore her. She’s got a thing for a certain… aesthetic.”

Next to Arkady, Sana was doing an incredibly poor job of hiding her laughter. “It’s the combat boots,” she whispered to Arkady.

“These are practical,” Arkady told her in a tone that suggested they’d had this conversation a few times. Sana said nothing, but straightened back up with a smirk.

“Sana — or should I call you ‘Captain’?” Piper began playfully. Sana grimaced.

“In hindsight, it was a poor choice to share that nickname in an interview.”

“You know, I think it suits you,” said Piper. “There’s something commanding about your aura. Sana, you and the band — which I understand you and Arkady originally started as a duo a few years ago—”

“That’s right,” Sana confirmed.

“You’ve always had a dedicated and loyal following, even from your early days — and we’re proud to have been playing your music here on this station for almost as long — but I think it’s fair to say the past few months have seen that rocket to a whole new level,” Piper said. “You got signed to a record label belonging to the mysterious but notoriously discerning Red Gregor, are working on your second album, and played a major gig at the CUI stadium just a few weeks ago. And we are definitely going to talk later about what went down at that gig, which is already the stuff of online legend — but first I want to backtrack a little, because I think the moment that everything started happening for you was when you added a new member to your band. In the middle of a gig, if the rumours are true. Can you tell us how that happened?”

Sana and Arkady exchanged a sidelong glance, and Arkady gave Sana a tiny nod. Sana took a deep breath, and began to tell the story.

---

“Jeeter, for the last time, put the keytar away,” Arkady said irritably as she and Sana entered the draughty, abandoned warehouse that the band was using as their current rehearsal space. The acoustics were pretty weird, probably due to all the broken windows, but it was otherwise hard to beat a free place to rehearse — especially a free place with no asshole neighbours who would yell at them to turn it down and threaten to call the cops.

Admittedly, it was in kind of a rough area, but Arkady had only needed to knock someone unconscious with her bass once.

In retaliation, Brian played another bright riff on his beloved instrument, accompanied by some jazzy keyboard chords from Krejjh. The two had been jamming together before Arkady and Sana arrived. “Dude, c’mon, can’t you hear how good this sounds?” Brian wheedled. “How many other indie bands do you know that have a keytar?”

“None. For good reason,” Arkady said, unzipping her case and slinging her bass around her neck. Sana, unpacking the sound equipment, smiled in fond amusement at their well-worn argument.

“It would give us such a great edge! Totally unique. And Krejjh and I have so many ideas that would sound great with both instruments—”

“Okay, Jeeter,” Arkady interrupted him, twiddling one of her tuning pegs. “You can play the keytar. Just as soon as you find us someone else who can play the drums.” She stooped to plug her bass into the portable amplifier that Sana had just unpacked. “Or are you planning to grow an extra pair of hands so you can play both at once?”

“Oooh! No, I should have an extra pair of hands!” Krejjh immediately (and predictably) enthused. “Then I’d sound four times as awesome! Four hands, all rockin’ out!”

“I think you mean ‘twice as awesome’,” Sana told them, as Brian reluctantly put away his keytar and picked up his neglected drumsticks.

“With me, twice the hands equals four times the awesome,” Krejjh replied with irrefutable logic. Brian laughed and held up a hand.

“Dude, high five.”

Sana waited for the two of them to finish their congratulatory high-five before she called the band to order. “Okay, guys — remember that we’re only a few days out from our gig at the IGR Corp function, so we need to have our crowd-pleasers up to standard.”

Arkady immediately wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, corporates. Why are we taking money from them again?”

“Because we need to pay for rent and food,” Sana said, bluntly. “And they’re giving us a lot for it. I know none of us love playing corporate gigs—”

“Understatement.”

“—but we are living a hand to mouth existence at this point, and if I can guarantee our survival as a band by relieving some corporates of their excess funds, then I’m going to do just that,” Sana continued. She waited a beat, and then added, “Also, we’re gonna let them get really drunk and then start playing our best anti-capitalist anthems, and see how long it takes for them to notice.”

Arkady broke into a shit-eating grin. “That’s more like it.” Krejjh cheered, and Brian did a little run-down on his drumkit, hitting each of the drums in turn.

“All right, let’s start with ‘Fear for the Storm’? One, two, three, four…” Sana started strumming the intro on her guitar, joined after a few beats by Krejjh’s melody on the keyboard.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on…”

---

Arkady had been on edge ever since the band set foot in the agonisingly hipster office complex — excuse me, ‘headquarters’ — belonging to IGR Corp.

It wasn’t just the fact that these guys were extremely corporate corporates, or that the whole place radiated an almost aggressively minimalist aesthetic, or that the walls were covered in bullshit, chipper slogans that were all fancy ways of saying, ‘Work should be your existence – if isn’t, you’re dead to us’ — although those things sure as hell didn’t help, reminding her of the absolute worst parts of every soul-sucking corporate job she’d worked before Sana mercifully re-entered her life and suggested they form a band.

No, there was just this weird vibe, like everyone was super on edge and trying to hide it — the higher-ups were stone-faced, muttering into earpieces or barking orders at underlings, who scurried, terrified, to carry out their wishes. And everyone else, from the tech types in plain white T-shirts and jeans to the smartly-dressed sales reps in suits, looked like they were there on pain of death. Wasn’t this supposed to be a party?

The atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed by the other band members. “Kind of a weird feel to this place,” Jeeter remarked as he unpacked his drumkit on the raised platform at the front of the ‘rec center’ where they would be performing. Normally, setting up was a noisy, clumsy affair, with the band elbowing each other, tripping over wires, and getting in each other’s way in the tiny space they were afforded in bars and nightclubs. Here, the platform that would be their makeshift stage was huge and extremely visible — but everyone was completely ignoring them. There was also very little background noise for a room packed with people, and the band found themselves speaking in hushed murmurs, almost tiptoeing around. “You’d think there would be a bit more… chatter?”

“Maybe the alcohol just isn’t flowing yet,” Sana speculated, but she sounded uneasy as she looked out over the tense crowd. Even Krejjh, with their signature hot pink, heart-shaped sunglasses perched on top of their dyed-lavender hair, dressed in a clashing, flamboyant jumble of clothes and accessories, seemed subdued.

Arkady plugged in her bass with a burst of static, and deliberately played a loud riff. Brian startled and dropped his drumstick, but not a single member of the sea of blandly-dressed IGR Corp employees flinched.

Weird.

The sound equipment was all set up, sound check performed and instruments tuned by half past, but the set wasn’t due to start until o’clock. Normally, Arkady would be making a beeline for the bar, but she didn’t really feel like rubbing shoulders with any of these weird drones. She found herself reflexively checking the exits, mentally charting their fastest route out of there in case something really fucked up started going down. Sana half-jokingly called it paranoia; Arkady called it long, hard experience.

It was on one of her scans of the room that she noticed the woman with the septum piercing. Arkady chalked it up to professional interest — as a kid, she’d picked up some extra money working as an assistant in a tattoo and piercing shop, The Landing. She’d first met Sana there when the other woman came in on several occasions to have work done on an amazingly intricate floral sleeve tattoo — her own design. Later, Sana had led a campaign to save The Landing from being shut down over a bunch of bullshit health code violations so that the billionaire Cresswin family — who owned the property — could sell it off to a shitty corporation.

The campaign hadn’t worked, and there was now a high rise office block where Arkady’s home from home had once stood. But Arkady had never forgotten Sana.

Anyway, it was definitely the woman’s piercing and not anything else about her appearance that caught Arkady’s attention first. But then she noticed that there was something off about her body language and the way she was moving — something that Arkady recognised. She wasn’t scurrying about in a panic or affecting bored disinterest; her eyes were flickering around the room, carefully monitoring the comings and goings of the other employees while seeming not to do so. There were little devices studded around the room that Arkady had clocked as security cameras the moment they entered (it was the kind of thing she made a habit of noticing), and she saw the woman glancing up at them.

She was dressed like an employee – white blouse, dark rinse blue jeans – so why was she acting like she was casing the joint? Of course, Arkady reasoned, the outfit could easily have been chosen to blend in. It didn’t necessarily mean she worked there.

“Seen something interesting, ‘Kady?” Sana asked playfully. Arkady didn’t startle, but it was a near thing; she’d been so focused on watching this woman.

Unfortunately, Sana saw where she’d been looking. “You know, we’ve still got close to half an hour before we start our first set,” she said. “You can go and mingle.”

“I’m not here to socialise,” Arkady said witheringly. “Least of all with corporate drones.” She tore her eyes away from the woman to meet Sana’s amused look.

“I’m just saying, you seemed pretty absorbed there…” Sana said, and Arkady rolled her eyes, determined not to respond to her best friend’s teasing. She glanced back at the spot where the woman had been standing and found it empty.

A second later, Arkady had found her again, weaving through the crowd with her head ducked down. She was taking an odd route across the room that Arkady realised must have been calculated to avoid the security cameras. Occasionally she disappeared, behind people or objects (like a huge, obviously fake ficus plant), but it wasn’t hard for Arkady to spot her again. Clearly there was some kind of purpose to what she was doing, but the woman wasn’t a professional.

There was an elevator against the far wall, and as Arkady watched, the doors opened and a small group of people in suits – latecomers to the party – walked out of it. The woman mingled with them briefly, and then disappeared inside the elevator. The doors closed.

Well, that had been a way to kill five minutes, but now Arkady was stuck with nothing to do again. Krejjh and Jeeter had pulled out a pack of cards, and were playing one of their weird games on top of Krejjh’s keyboard. Arkady turned to Sana, about to make another comment about how much this place creeped her out, when she caught sight of the other person moving across the room.

Judging by the expensive suit, they were a higher-up, and were taking none of the precautions the woman had when making their way across the room, which suggested that they were confident about being allowed to do whatever it was they were doing. And to Arkady, it looked an awful lot like they were following the woman she’d seen. Based on the way the suit jacket fell, she���d also bet even money that they were armed.

Sure enough, the suit called the elevator, and disappeared into it a second later. Arkady swore under her breath.

It was none of her goddamn business whether a person she didn’t even know might be in danger, Arkady told herself. She was here to play music, not to get in the middle of whatever might be going down at this godawful corporation. Which again, was none of her business anyway.

Her resolve lasted all of ten seconds.

“I’m going to get a drink,” she told Sana, and placed her bass onto its stand.

“Oooh! Bring me a cocktail – no, a mocktail!” Krejjh said. Sana just looked at her quizzically.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Arkady nodded briefly. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and jumped down off the platform.

She wasn’t under any illusions that Sana wouldn’t notice where she was going, and just hoped that her best friend would trust her to be back in time for the set. She slipped through the crowd, following the same path that the woman had taken to avoid the watchful eyes of the security cameras.

This worked right up until she entered the elevator, where sure enough, a security camera was embedded into the top corner. How had this woman planned to avoid getting caught?

Arkady pulled out her smartphone, and began to quickly and expertly worm her way into the closed network that IGR Corp was using for its security systems. After just a few moments, she’d managed to identify the IP address that the lift camera was using, and wow, whoever had set up this system was either incredibly lazy or was trying to lay out a welcome mat for hackers. They hadn’t bothered to change the default access password.

Arkady wound back the last few minutes of recorded video, and watched as the woman with the septum piercing pressed the button for the top floor. Arkady did the same, and as the elevator moved upwards, she introduced a glitch that would cause the security camera to loop footage of an empty elevator instead of showing who was actually inside. Then she worked to edit out the archive footage of the woman riding up in the elevator, and of herself getting in.

If it turned out that there was nothing weird going on here after all, well, she’d had some fun exploiting the corporates’ shitty security system.

But Arkady was pretty sure there was something weird going on.

The elevator came to a silent stop, and Arkady silently thanked the deities she didn’t really believe in for the fact that this place was too hipster to have an elevator that made a noise when it arrived at the right floor. The doors slid open, and Arkady immediately spotted another security camera on exiting the elevator. God, these corporates were paranoid. But apparently not paranoid enough to pay their security person to do their job properly.

Annoyingly, the security cameras for this floor seemed to be on a separate network, and Arkady started another hack as she crept down the corridor, straining her ears for the sounds of a confrontation. Further down, she saw an office door swinging open, as if someone had gone through it in a hurry. Arkady approached it, being careful to stay out of sight of the doorway. Closer to, she could hear a voice coming from inside – the suit’s, if she had to guess.

“…sure CEO Golding-Frederick will be very interested to hear just what you’re doing in her office, Ms. Liu.”

“Seiders, I can explain,” the woman – Liu – replied, her voice high with tension. “Project ADVANCE – it’s not what we’ve been told. The company is using it to-”

“What the company may or may not be doing with Project ADVANCE is not your concern,” Seiders said smoothly, over her, “and is a long way above your pay grade. But I’d be very interested to learn where you got your information from.”

“Do you know what’s going on at this company?” Liu demanded, outraged. “And that’s – you have no problems with what they’re doing?”

The closed network for the top floor of the building was much less of a pushover than the elevator, and Arkady kept half of her attention on the conversation inside the room as she worked to find a flaw in the system. Finally, she made it in, and began trying different password combinations for the camera in the hallway.

“It’s not my job to ask questions, Ms. Liu,” Seiders had been saying. “Neither is it yours. And if you value your job – not to mention the safety and security of your loved ones – you’ll step away from that computer, and go back downstairs to the party.”

“Are you threatening me? Are you threatening my family?” Liu demanded. “No, I’m not going to stay silent about this. Someone has to take a stand against what this company is doing. And if anything happens to me, that’ll only raise more questions.”

“We’re very good at making those questions go away,” said Seiders, and Arkady heard Liu suck in a breath. She moved so that she could see inside the room and shit, that was a gun. Arkady rapidly began calculating her angle of attack. “Didn’t you ever wonder what happened to Connors from Engineering?”

“That’s not – you can’t just make a person disappear,” Liu said, desperately. “I – I have insurance! Documents that I’ve sent to a friend of mine. If I don’t check in with them in two hours, they’re going to send them to a journalist contact, and it’ll be all over the press in the morning.”

Arkady could hear the lie in her voice so clearly, and she knew Seiders could, too. “If you had enough evidence to be worth a damn, you wouldn’t have broken into this office,” they replied. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Step away from the-”

Arkady slammed into the room, deliberately making as much noise as she could to draw Seiders’ attention. She took two, three steps towards them and grabbed their gun hand, forcing it down and towards the floor. She managed to hook one arm around their throat, pulling back and applying pressure. Seiders choked, struggling and jerking against Arkady’s grip. With the hand that was holding their gun hand, Arkady twisted and pulled their fingers open, causing the weapon to drop to the floor.

“Liu, grab the gun!” Arkady ordered. She saw the other woman yank something out of the computer that looked like a flash drive, stowing it inside her blouse. She dove for the gun at the same time that Seiders managed to thrust an elbow back, driving it into Arkady’s midsection.

All the air left Arkady’s lungs and as she struggled to draw a breath in, Seiders took advantage of her loosened grip to twist free. They grappled with Liu for the gun, but Liu succeeded in kicking it away, where it spun underneath a nearby cabinet. Then Arkady was on Seiders again, jumping onto their back and choking them.

She heard the sound of running footsteps, and someone else burst into the room. Arkady didn’t get a chance to see who it was before Seiders slammed their head back, knocking into Arkady’s and making bright white lights explode across her vision. She dropped to the floor and staggered, trying to clear her head.

She heard an oof and a thud, and blinked rapidly, sure that she would open her eyes to see Seiders bearing down on Liu – or worse, standing over her unconscious body.

Instead, she was greeted with the sight of Seiders crumpling like a sack of potatoes as Sana flexed her fist, having delivered a powerful uppercut that knocked them out cold.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, broken only by Liu’s sharp, panicked breaths. Rubbing her head, Arkady said, “Hey, Sana.”

“The next time you decide to go off on a rescue mission,” Sana said, wryly, “you could at least tell me where you’re going.” She frowned as she took in Arkady’s dishevelled state. “Is your head all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Arkady. She was more concerned with Liu, who looked like she might be on the verge of a panic attack. “Hey, uh, it’s okay. We took care of them.”

“Who-” Liu managed, taking deep breaths in and out, clearly trying to steady her breathing. “Who are you?”

Sana smiled at her, warm and reassuring. “My name is Sana Tripathi, and this is Arkady Patel. We’re-”

There was a noise that sounded not unlike a herd of elephants storming down the corridor, and Arkady closed her eyes. She had a bad feeling she knew what was about to happen. Sure enough, in the next second Krejjh and Jeeter clattered through the door in all their clashing multicoloured glory: Jeeter in his signature loud paid shirt and those stupid khakis, and Krejjh with their… everything. Most of the clattering was coming from Krejjh’s many bangles.

“Cap’n Tripathi!” Krejjh said. “We’re here to assist you with – oh my god, are they dead?” They stared at the unconscious form of Seiders on the floor.

“They’re not dead, they’re just unconscious,” Arkady said, irritated. “Did you two really take off without anyone to watch the equipment?”

Sana turned back to Liu like nothing had happened. “We’re the band,” she finished succinctly. “I’m the guitarist and lead singer, Arkady here plays the bass, and Krejjh and Brian are our keyboardist and drummer.” She indicated each of them in turn. Jeeter waved, and Krejjh saluted for some reason. “And who are you?”

Liu blinked at her. “You… you just saved my life, and you don’t even know who I am?” she said. “Why would you do that?”

“For one thing, because you’d probably be dead if we hadn’t,” Arkady said. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.” She pulled out the phone to finish the hack on the security cameras that she’d started before she entered the room.

“I – no, I know that. I’m not ungrateful,” Liu said, sounding a little stung. “I’m just a little… in shock. My name is Violet Liu,” she added to Sana. “I, uh, work in IGR Corp’s neuroresearch division.”

“Good to meet you, Violet Liu,” Sana said, sounding like they were old friends catching up at the bar instead of total strangers talking to each other over an unconscious body. “’Kady, are you erasing the security footage?”

Arkady nodded.

“Good; Brian and I will carry our friend here,” Sana indicated Seiders with her foot, “into the hallway. I think I noticed a closet there we can hide them in.”

“Uh… are you guys really the band?” Liu asked, as Sana and Jeeter – who was much stronger than he looked – bent down to pick up Seiders. “You seem very…” She struggled to find the right words. “…good at this.”

“We have some unorthodox skillsets,” Sana said, beaming and dimpling at her. “We don’t normally make a habit of rescuing people in the middle of a gig, but Arkady has a soft spot for damsels in distress.”

Arkady fumbled her phone, and nearly dropped it. “Sana,” she hissed, mortified. Sana, who was already partway out of the door, winked and disappeared into the hallway.

After a moment, Arkady realised that she and Liu were the only ones in the room, Krejjh evidently having decided to go along and supervise, or something. She refocused her attention on the hack she was carrying out; she’d managed to hack the hallway security camera, and was erasing the footage from that, but she still needed to do the one in the office.

“Uh…” Liu awkwardly broke the silence. “Is there anything that you need me to…”

“Is anyone likely to be monitoring the security cameras in real-time?” Arkady asked her. The question came out sounding a little harsher than she’d intended, but it was hard to be diplomatic when she was focused on trying to break into a security system. Also, it was a little annoying that Liu apparently hadn’t thought about security cameras beyond the ones on the ground floor.

“N-no, the system is all automated,” Liu replied. Well, that was something, at least. “I, uh, I do have a virus that I was planning to use on the security system that would corrupt the footage. I just needed to find an access point.”

Fine, so there had been a plan of sorts. “This is quicker,” Arkady told her. “And the way I’m doing it, it won’t be so obvious that someone has tampered with the footage.”

“Thank you for that,” Liu said, quietly. “And thank you for – I mean, you don’t even know me, but you came up here to help me. Why?”

Arkady shrugged, keeping her shoulders hunched and avoiding Liu’s gaze. “You looked like you were in trouble,” she said shortly. And that was the office camera done. Arkady resisted the urge to change the password to something rude, and withdrew from the network. “And I don’t like corporations. What were you trying to do, blow the whistle on them or something?”

“Um, I-”

Before she could explain, Sana poked her head back into the room. “Arkady, are you done? Because I don’t think we should be hanging around up here.”

“I’m done,” Arkady said with a nod, pocketing her phone. The two of them joined Sana, Krejjh and Jeeter in the hallway.

“We need a plan to get Violet back downstairs and out of the building without her being seen,” Sana said quickly. “’Kady, do you think you two can make it out in fifteen minutes?”

Arkady huffed. “I can hack the security cams, but I can’t actually make us invisible,” she pointed out. “People are gonna notice us. If we waited until you guys started the set, then we might have a better chance, while everyone’s attention is on the band.”

“Listen – it’s not that I don’t really appreciate the help,” Liu cut in. Her face was set, like she was preparing to go to the gallows. “But none of this needs to be your problem. It’s my mess, and I can get myself out of it. You guys should go and start your set.”

“Oh, pshaw!” said Krejjh. “We’re not just gonna leave you to the bears!”

Jeeter smiled. “To the wolves,” he corrected Krejjh.

“Are y’sure? Because bears can be pretty terrifying.”

“We’re not about to abandon you now,” Sana said to Liu, gently. “Between the five of us, I’m sure we can figure out a pretty good plan.”

“Can’t we just pretend to be loading something into the truck?” Jeeter suggested. “And Violet can help us? We could give her a band jacket – make her look like she’s with us-”

“It’s too bad you don’t play!” Krejjh said to Violet. “We could add you into the set. The ultimate entourage!”

“Uh…” Violet said (at the same time as Arkady said, “Camouflage.”) “I mean, I do play something? But you guys already have a drummer.”

“Wait, you’re a drummer?” Jeeter said delightedly, as Krejjh straightened up so fast that Arkady thought they’d pull a muscle. Even Sana looked interested. “Are you good?”

“Have you ever played with a band before?” added Sana.

Liu smiled and shrugged awkwardly. “Well, drums aren’t really a solo instrument, so yeah. I used to jam with some friends in high school, and played some underground rock concerts in college. I was never really with a band – we just sort of used to form collectives based on who was around and wanted to play. It was fun, though.”

She’d avoided answering the question about how good she was, Arkady noticed, which probably meant she was good and was being modest about it. Goddamn it.

“So if, hypothetically speaking,” Sana said, “you joined a set without having rehearsed any of the music beforehand, would you be able to figure out a drum part?”

“Okay, hold on,” said Arkady, before Violet could respond. “Don’t you think IGR Corp is going to notice that one of their employees has just… joined the band?”

“We’ll swear up and down that it isn’t her,” Jeeter said. “And even if someone figures it out, what are they gonna do about it in front of everyone?”

“But wait, what about you?” Liu asked Jeeter. “Wouldn’t I be putting you out of a role in the band?”

“Nah,” Jeeter said happily. “I brought my keytar!”

“Oh my god,” Arkady groaned. She could tell when she was fighting a losing battle, but it didn’t stop her from making one last, token protest. “This is going to sound really goddamn weird.”

Sana grinned at her. “Well, you wanted to annoy some corporates,” she pointed out. “What better way to do it?”

---

The problem was, the new line-up didn’t sound weird at all.

It sounded good.

Liu, hastily disguised with an old band jacket and a spare pare of Krejjh’s sunglasses, fitted in with their set like she’d been rehearsing with them for weeks – months even. They did a quick sound check, Jeeter looking far too delighted as he amped up his keytar. Sana gave her usual cheerful introduction into the microphone, introducing the band as Renegade, the name they adopted for corporate gigs (Arkady was even more glad of it now, since it would make them harder to track down later). After a lukewarm reception from the assembled employees (none of whom seemed to notice, or care, that the band had grown an extra member), they launched into their first number, a reimagined cover of ‘What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor’.

It started off with Sana singing alone, before Krejjh joined in, their voices singing in close harmony, and then Arkady and finally Jeeter, the harmonies becoming increasingly layered as they went. The addition of the keytar made the song sound futuristic, almost the kind of thing you could imagine crews of space explorers singing together as they made their way into the unknown.

Liu picked up the beat easily, and as the song unfolded Arkady suddenly realised she could hear a fifth strand to the harmony, weaving in and out of the other voices, soft but distinctive: Liu was singing.

They moved on from the conventional crowd-pleasing openers to a more eclectic mix of songs, including some punk and anarchist numbers. Each time, Arkady was sure that the choice was going to throw Liu off, but she adapted smoothly to each one, altering her style to fit the vibe of the song. In one of the louder, heavier songs she even threw in an impromptu drum solo that had Krejjh whooping at the keyboard and Sana laughing as she riffed on her guitar.

Sana threw Arkady a look as the song ended, and there was a light in her eyes that Arkady knew far, far too well. It was the same light that Arkady had seen when Sana tracked her down at her latest deadbeat job and persuaded her to quit and start playing music with her; the same light that she’d had when they met Brian and Krejjh a year later and Sana had decided to turn their duo into a band.

Sana wanted Liu to join Rumor. And Arkady couldn’t even think of a good argument against it, apart from the fact that they barely knew anything about the woman other than that she could play the drums. And that she was a corporate, which Arkady thought was important not to lose sight of, even if Liu wasn’t on the greatest terms with her employer any more.

Speaking of which. Arkady was on high alert throughout the whole set, constantly scanning the crowd for signs of trouble, anyone who might be looking too closely at Liu or showed signs of moving towards the elevator. As they’d been setting up, Liu had told them that Seiders was middle management: someone who outranked her, but not someone who held a position of particular influence within the company or had the ear of the CEO. Someone who had ambitions above their station. It didn’t mean no-one would notice them missing, of course; but it meant that they might be someone who, for instance, would go after a rogue employee without notifying their superior, hoping to reap all of the credit.

The band moved into their final number, ‘Landers Never Stand Down’ – one of Sana and Arkady’s early compositions, whose lyrics Sana had written as a tribute to The Landing, and her and Arkady’s shared history. Normally, Arkady would object to wasting it on a corporate audience, but tonight, it felt like the right kind of ‘fuck you’.

“Landers never stand down,

Landers never bow,

Landers never stand down,

We don’t know how…”

They wound up the song in their usual fashion, repeating the chorus and getting fiercer and more defiant with each repetition, before ending in a final blaze of guitar chords.

“Thank you, everyone, you’ve been a wonder to perform for!” Sana said into the microphone as the chords faded away. She said the same thing at the end of every gig, but it had never felt more like a colossal understatement. “We’ve been Renegade, and we hope you have a great night!”

There was a small scattering of applause. Sana beamed out into the audience again, and then turned away from the microphone, sliding the power to ‘off’. “Well, that was-”

“Attention, all IGR Corp employees,” came a voice over the loudspeaker system. Sana froze, and Liu, who’d been leaning over to say something to Krejjh, paled visibly. “Please stay where you are. We will be carrying out a routine attendance check. Please do not exit the building.”

“Attendance check?” Arkady repeated.

“It’s a standard employee procedure,” Liu explained. “To make sure everyone’s… accounted for at corporate functions. Supposedly they’re optional, but it looks really bad if you’re not there and you don’t have a reason.”

“Do we think there’s a chance this is linked to…” Sana gestured towards the elevator. Liu shrugged helplessly.

“It could be, but even if it’s not, they’re gonna discover that Seiders is missing pretty quickly. And that I’m… unaccounted for.”

“Don’t worry,” said Jeeter, reassuringly. “We’ll figure out a way to get you out before that happens.”

“Dashing escapes are our speciality!” Krejjh contributed. This was true; the band hadn’t always played at the most above-the-board venues, and there’d been more than a few times they’d needed to get the hell out of Dodge before things got ugly. Well, uglier.

Sana nodded. “For now, just keep packing down, like nothing’s wrong,” she said.

As Krejjh packed down their keyboard and Jeeter helped Liu to disassemble the drumkit, Arkady said to Sana, “I’ll go with Liu, and we can sneak out a back entrance-”

Sana shook her head. “It’ll be more suspicious if we’re not seen leaving as a group.”

“We’ll just say we’re going to the bathroom,” Arkady said. “We’re allowed to do that, aren’t we?”

Sana started to reply, but then stopped, squinting at something on the other side of the room. Arkady tried to follow her gaze, but couldn’t see what she was looking at. “What is it?”

“I thought I saw…” Sana shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s try the front way first, and if they won’t let us leave, we’ll get creative.”

Unsurprisingly, when they carried the first load of equipment over to the rec room entrance, two stoic-looking IGR employees blocked their path, bouncer-style. Arkady eyed one of them, pretty sure she could take her in a one-to-one fight.

“Sorry, we can’t let you leave while an attendance check is ongoing,” said the employee, with a bland detachment. “Company policy.”

“It should only take about an hour,” the other added. “You can enjoy the free refreshments while you wait.”

An hour? Even if they hadn’t had a very pressing reason to get the hell out of there, Arkady would have been looking for the nearest fire escape to break out of. They were just supposed to cool their heels at IGR headquarters for an hour?

“Can we not at least load our equipment into the van in the meantime?” Sana asked reasonably. “This is a very heavy amplifier…” She made a show of struggling with the amp she’d been lifting with ease a few seconds ago, and Arkady suppressed a snort.

One of the corporates had opened their mouth, looking like they were about to object, when a friendly voice spoke from behind them. “Is there a problem here?”

They all turned to look at the person who’d spoken, and Arkady carefully masked her surprise: the tall, dark-skinned man dressed in an expensive-looking suit jacket, T-shirt and jeans combination was none other than Red Gregor, a close friend of Campbell’s. They’d met him once or twice, but what was he doing here?

“Who are you?” asked Corporate One, audibly unimpressed.

“Theodore Gregor; I’m the band’s executive producer,” Gregor introduced himself smoothly, handing Corporate Two a business card. Their eyes widened at whatever was written on it. “My clients have another engagement to get to tonight, so you can understand why it’s very important they be allowed to leave promptly. Additionally, their contract stipulates that they’re only obliged to perform for your company until-” he made a show of checking a gold watch, “-nine-thirty P.M., after which time we’ll need to bill you for every additional half-hour. Will your supervisors be signing off on the additional expenses?”

Corporates One and Two were visibly thrown by the torrent of information. Krejjh made a noise that was hastily stifled, while Arkady did her best to look bored and important.

“I… no, let me just contact my superior to get you the all-clear,” said Corporate One, reluctantly. “Johnson will help you to load your equipment into your…” She eyed the band’s battered van, visibly out of place in the parking lot full of sleek cars. “…vehicle.”

“Great!” Sana said brightly, handing the amplifier to Corporate Two, who took it and staggered slightly. As Corporate One spoke into a walkie-talkie, Sana and Red Gregor strode quickly ahead, the rest of the band trailing behind. Arkady lengthened her steps to catch up with them so that she could hear their quiet exchange.

“…doing here? Did Campbell send you?” Sana was asking Red Gregor.

“In a manner of speaking,” Red Gregor said. “He talks about you so much, I wanted to come and hear what all the fuss was about. Love the new line-up – you guys sound completely different to when I last heard you play.”

“It’s kind of a new thing,” Sana admitted. “New as of… today. I can fill you in, it’s just a long story.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Red Gregor said, and Arkady remembered that she’d liked him, the couple of times that they’d met. She could see why he and Campbell were good friends. “But let’s focus on getting you out of here. I’m guessing you need an exit?”

“And fast,” Sana agreed.

“Well, fast’s your speciality,” Red Gregor said with a grin. Sana smiled back at him, and Arkady wondered if Red was basing this off stories from Campbell, or if he and Sana knew each other better than Arkady had realised. It was a strange thought to have in the middle of everything.

Sana unlocked the van and slid open the back door. While Krejjh, Jeeter and Liu loaded their items into the trunk, overseen by Corporate Two, Red Gregor pretended to help Arkady and Sana with their instruments.

“So what now?” Arkady asked Sana. “I think I can probably take Johnson.”

“Arkady, you’ve already been in one fight today,” Sana said, disapproving.

“What’s your point?”

“I have a more bloodless suggestion,” Red Gregor said. “You’ve got a few pieces of equipment left in the venue, right? I’ll go back inside with Johnson to ‘collect’ them, say we’re going to check their supervisor has given you the go-ahead, and you guys make a break for it. I’ll bring the equipment in my car and meet you at the dive bar, half a mile down the road.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to get away? What happens when they realise we’re gone?” Sana asked.

“I’ll come up with something,” Red Gregor assured her. “Just focus on getting yourselves out of here.”

He walked over to Johnson, who was slightly bemusedly watching Jeeter and Liu (who were clearly stalling for time) rearrange pieces of the drumkit in the trunk, and took him by the arm, steering him back towards the building and talking rapidly all the while.

“As soon as they’re out of sight, everyone needs to get in the van quickly,” Sana instructed. “And hang onto something. Okay? Now!”

Krejjh slammed the trunk of the van shut and everyone piled into the back without a word of protest. Arkady jumped into the front as Sana slid into the driver’s seat, reversing out of the parking space like a shot and executing an alarming hairpin turn to get them onto the road. Liu cried out in alarm, not used to Sana’s driving, and Arkady hung grimly onto the handle on the inside of her door.

“Everyone okay back there?” Sana asked, peering into the rearview mirror.

Arkady looked back to see Jeeter and Krejjh scrambling to put on their seatbelts, each of them having thrown an arm over Liu to keep her in place. “Oops, sorry, I forgot we don’t have a seatbelt for the middle!” Sana said cheerfully as they thudded over a speedbump. Liu closed her eyes. “There’s normally only four of us.”

“It’s not far to where we’re going, right, Captain?” asked Jeeter.

“Just a half mile down the road,” said Sana. “Red Gregor’s going to meet us there with the rest of the equipment, as soon as he can get away.”

“What was he doing at the gig? Did Campbell tell him where we were?”

“I think so. He said that he wanted to come and hear us play,” Arkady said, watching buildings blur past on either side of them. “I guess it was lucky he did.”

“We would’ve figured something out,” Krejjh said confidently.

“Uh, who’s Campbell?” Liu asked, cautiously opening her eyes again.

“He’s our… manager? Kinda?” Krejjh replied. “He doesn’t tell us what to do or anything, but he has a lot of contacts, so he gets us most of our gigs.”

“Contacts in the music industry? Or contacts in like… events venues, bars and clubs?”

“Yes,” Krejjh said helpfully.

“He just has a lot of contacts,” Jeeter said with a smile. Arkady smirked at Liu’s look of consternation.

“Tonight’s gig did not come through Campbell,” said Sana, spotting the dive bar Red Gregor had specified and indicating to turn off the road. “We got it through an agency, Fowleys. I guess that’ll teach us not to go outside Campbell’s network.”

“Hey, it worked out!” Krejjh said. “We got a new drummer out of the deal.”

“Well, for tonight, at least,” Sana said, now reversing into a parking space. “I gotta say, Violet, the way you fitted in with our sound? That was amazing. Our set sounded better than I could’ve imagined.”

Liu blushed. “They were great songs,” she demurred, as the van came to a stop.

“Too bad it was wasted on IGR Corp,” Arkady remarked, undoing her seat belt as they all climbed out of the van.

They got a table in the corner of the dive bar, which was pretty full and made it easy to blend in. As Sana went to get them all drinks, Krejjh and Jeeter started up some kind of nonsensical word game. Arkady and Liu glanced at each other occasionally, but otherwise sat in awkward silence.

Finally, Arkady asked something that had been on her mind since she intervened in the confrontation between Liu and Seiders, though it had taken a back seat to more pressing concerns. “What was it you were trying to get from that computer, anyway?”

“Sorry?” Liu asked, looking away from Krejjh and Jeeter, where she’d been listening in on the game with a slightly baffled expression.

“In the CEO’s office,” Arkady clarified. “I saw you take a flash drive out of the computer. What were you trying to get?”

“Oh,” Liu said, drawing out the little drive from inside her blouse. “Yeah, I was… trying to copy some files onto it. I’m not sure how much I got, though – I had to pull it out before the transfer was complete, and I think they’re encrypted.”

“What kind of files are they?” Arkady asked, thinking that she could probably break the encryption in an afternoon. Maybe less.

Liu hesitated, and Arkady narrowed her eyes. “You’re not still trying to protect your company, are you? In case you don’t remember-”

“No, no,” Liu said quickly. “I just – I’m not sure if it would be safe to tell you. Safe for you,” she added. “Right now, you have plausible deniability if anyone questions you. You genuinely don’t know what’s on this flash drive. So maybe it would be better to keep it that way.”

Arkady was a little bit pacified by that, but still – “Considering I’ve already aided and abetted you, I think that ship has sailed,” she pointed out. “No-one is going to believe I did it without having any idea what you were up to. Which I’m fine with,” she added, as a guilt-stricken look crossed Liu’s face. “I made a choice to help you, and so did the others. But I may as well know what the stakes are.”

“Yeah, that’s… fair,” admitted Liu. Next to her, Krejjh was doing a fairly poor job of pretending not to listen in. “They’re blueprints. My company – the company – has been developing… do you know what IGR Corp does? What kind of a company it is?”

“Some kind of a tech company?” Arkady said. She vaguely remembered Sana saying something about that when they got the gig. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the details.

Liu nodded. “Smart technology – specifically, smart home technology. We produce – I mean, they produce things like smart security systems, smart doorbells, systems that can detect when someone has a medical emergency. Systems that are designed to help keep people safe.”

Arkady had to work to keep from grimacing. She wasn’t sure that being monitored by a computer 24/7 fitted everyone’s definition of ‘safety’, but maybe Liu had never had cause to doubt that the people with power had her best interests at heart. Lucky her.

“But then,” Liu went on, her voice bitter, “I found out that the latest product we were developing – the one that was supposed to make everyone’s lives so much easier, so much better – is being created as a surveillance device. To eavesdrop on people and send their data back to the company. And I know that a lot of smart devices have audio capabilities, but – this was hardwired in. Impossible to disable. And this weird, secretive new division of the company has been set up to process the data.”

“What are they gonna do with it?” Arkady asked.

“Who knows,” Liu said. “They could be collecting it for the government, but – I think it’s more likely they’re just planning to sell it on to the highest bidder.”

Arkady’s eyes narrowed, and she wished that Sana had brought the drinks already so that she’d have something to down.

“You know,” Liu said, her voice suddenly much softer. “I, uh. I still haven’t thanked you properly for, uh, well-”

“O-kay!” came Sana’s voice, loudly, as she finally arrived at their table carrying a small tray laden with glasses. “Sorry for the delay, guys, there was a heck of a crowd up at the bar. Also, the bartender was really interested in talking to me while he pulled these drinks.” She made a wry expression, her dimple deepening in one cheek. “Cheer up, ‘Kady, I’ve got your favourite-” She slid a pint glass of raspberry ale in front of Arkady.

“Thanks,” Arkady mumbled, not looking at Liu.

Red Gregor arrived not long after, having apparently evaded IGR Corp by pretending that he was going outside to look for the band, and then driving off with the equipment before anyone realised what was happening. Sana passed him a drink from the tray; no-one asked how she already knew his preferred drink order.

“So look,” said Arkady, after they’d done some small talk and toasted to a successful getaway (Sana’s idea, of course). “Not that we didn’t appreciate the save earlier – you had pretty good timing – but why’d you go to all the trouble of coming to an IGR Corp function just to hear us play? How did you even get in?”

“I know a lot of people,” Red Gregor said mysteriously, with a fluid shrug. “As for why I came – you probably don’t know this, but I’ve been getting into the music biz lately.”

Arkady tried to remember what ‘biz’ Red Gregor had been in before, and couldn’t. He was one of those people who seemed to do a bit of everything.

“That’s awesome!” said Krejjh, looking delighted. “Are you going to start a band? Or manage one?”

Red Gregor smiled. “Actually, neither. I’m starting a record label,” he said. “And I want to sign you guys to it.”

Liu choked on her drink; Jeeter said, “Wow, really?” and even Sana looked taken aback. Clearly this hadn’t been the answer she was expecting.

“Us?” she said, as if Gregor could have meant anyone else. “As in…” She gestured around the table, including Liu.

Red Gregor nodded. “Look, your new sound is like nothing I’ve ever heard from a band before,” he said. “Campbell has always spoken highly of you guys, and I really liked your originals the last time I heard you perform. But with this new line-up? I think you could become really big. If that’s something that you want, of course.”

Sana sat back in her chair, looking thoughtful, while Krejjh looked practically ready to vibrate out of theirs with excitement. “That would be a pretty big step for us,” she said. “Not that we wouldn’t love – more exposure, better opportunities-”

“Gigs in legal venues?” put in Jeeter.

“More above-the-board performances,” agreed Sana. “But we’ve only played once with this new line-up. We don’t know for sure if we can replicate that – and I mean, we’d be asking Violet to just drop everything and join us full-time-”

Red Gregor held up his hands. “Like I said, it’s completely up to you,” he said. “I’m not here to pressure you into something you’re not ready for. But don’t underestimate yourselves. I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t have faith in you guys.”

Sana looked around the table, taking in the mixture of expressions, ranging from Krejjh’s eagerness to Liu’s uncertainty to Arkady’s… Arkady didn’t know what her face was doing. “We’ll have to put it to a vote,” she said, predictably. “And if any of you need more time to think this over-”

“I’m in!” Krejjh said instantly. “We rocked tonight! I want to keep on rocking that hard. And we should totally record an album.”

Jeeter smiled fondly. “I’m on board with anything that will let me keep playing the keytar,” he admitted. “And I thought we sounded pretty awesome, as well.”

Sana looked at Liu. “Violet, you’re the one who this would be the biggest change for,” she said. “The rest of us are already playing in a band full-time. Well, with the odd side gig,” she added, because yeah, they did not yet make enough money from performing to cover the bills. “You barely know us, and you’re not under any obligation to stick around – or to switch careers.”

Liu gave a slightly broken laugh. “Well, I don’t really think I can go back to my old one,” she said. “That option evaporated as soon as one of my colleagues pulled a gun on me. Not… sure I’ve really had time to process that yet.”

Sana nodded. “If it’s too soon-”

“But no amount of processing is going to make my situation any different,” Liu went on. “I could try to get another job in my field, but… IGR Corp is a pretty well-known company. Word’s going to get around that I’m untrustworthy, especially if they put it about that I tried to steal corporate secrets.”

“They can’t do that,” Sana said immediately. “I used to do some union work; whistleblowing is a protected activity, and it’s against the law for them to blacklist you – to make it more difficult for you to obtain future employment.”

Liu smiled slightly. “I don’t think IGR Corp are too concerned with breaking the law,” she pointed out. “I appreciate it, but… this isn’t my first experience with a hostile work environment.”

Okay, so maybe Arkady should take back her earlier thought about Liu never having had cause to distrust the people in power.

“Besides, I haven’t even blown the whistle on them yet – I’m not sure if the information I have is worth anything,” Liu said, a little grimly. “And anyway… I think it’s time for a clean slate. So, if you’ll have me… I’m in.”

Which just left Arkady. She could see how pleased Sana was that Liu was willing to join the band full-time, even though she was trying to hide it. Krejjh and Jeeter, too, were excited – and not just at the prospect of getting better gigs and earning more money (though that was a very appealing prospect).

The fact was, Red Gregor was right – they’d sounded like a completely new band during their performance. Arkady had always liked their stuff (of course she did; she’d even co-written some of it) but the new sound gave it a flair she hadn’t even realised it had been missing. As much as she couldn’t help thinking of the dozens of ways this could go wrong, she wanted them to keep sounding like that. She wanted to see what else they could do.

“‘Kady?” asked Sana.

Arkady took a deep breath. “Sure. Let’s do this.”

[simonalkenmayeris-still-dead]

CC4 - second thoughts

Something FINALLY happens in this one (I think)

“Tonight, gentle reader, I played the hero.”

Side-note:  Gentle Reader should be capitalised.  Simon’s using it as a naming word for his readers, ie, a proper noun.

Anyway, something is going to happen in this chapter.  We’re finally getting some plot.  I don’t know what the point of the previous chapter was, aside from making a joke about monsters being the one percent.  Unless we’re going to meet that kid later on, it should have been cut entirely.

Simon could have explained what brought him into this situation in a sentence or two.  “I was on my way home from the cinema”, for example.

Instead, he feels the need to backtrack and explain why he was at the cinema, once again telling his readers what they should think about it.  “Yes I know it seems strange for a creature like me…”  Do you, Simon? I personally think even very old monsters probably crave entertainment from time to time.  Even slipping a maybe into that sentence would make it less grating.

Of course, most of this exposition is merely indulgence so that the author can have a dig at people with beliefs.  Any beliefs, it doesn’t matter which, make you stupid according to Simon.

Unsurprisingly, he’s culturally Christian.

An invisible friend in the sky who refuses to help but insists upon obedience makes me wonder about the quality of your brains

I’m going to be generous and say the action begins about halfway down the page, with Simon’s description of his neighbourhood.  There is one thing about his description that stands out to me immediately, that there are “numerous garbage heaps and abandoned pieces of furniture” along the tree line in what’s basically a gentrified industrial area.  That doesn’t ring true to me.  

Reclaimed warehouse apartments cost millions, and I don’t think the type of people who live there – or let’s be real, invest in them – would be cool with garbage just being abandoned around the neighbourhood to bring down their real estate prices.

I feel like this is the author’s attempt to reconcile the signifiers of Simon’s wealth with the need to get the story underway.  Despite how much Simon professes to hate vampires on his blog it feels like it’s inspired by the Discworld vampires who are able to amass wealth simply by never dying. Most of the Disc’s vampires are nobility or at least gentry, but he may have missed that part.

Anyway, its a problem that could easily have been overcome by just making Simon live more modestly, or even by having the confrontation not happen near his house.

I’m going to skip over Simon’s description of the fight except to note a couple of things.  If someone is being attacked, and you halt to think, that’s too long.  That person is already being assaulted.  Especially if you take the time to take off your jacket and “lay it gently” over a sofa.

Simon has also already abandoned all semblance of humanity when he springs across to attack the dude.  His claws are extended, etc.  So why is he fighting like a human?  Why doesn’t he just disembowel the guy, or slice through his tendons?

That’s a wasted opportunity to emphasise his inhumanity.

Instead the only reference to his monstrous ways is biting into the throat, because by now Simon is hungry, and tearing skin and muscle.  I get the impression that Simon’s writer doesn’t know much about anatomy because even if you’re a very strong monster, it’s still more efficient to slice through that with your claws (I’m also preeeety sure he’d have to slice through the fat to get to muscle but I could be wrong).

After all this we get back to the point, because the point of all this is for Simon and Rebecca to meet.

I don’t think this is the best choice for how it could have happened.  If you’re going to include an attempted rape scene in a book, you need to be sure it’s needed, and I don’t think this is.

Usually when you write a rape or an attempted rape scene, its to emphasise what kind of danger the victim is in, and to evoke empathy for them. This scene isn’t written to do that.  It’s pretty evident the writer doesn’t care about Rebecca during the attack.

This is written to show how impressive Simon is, how brutal he is when he hunts, and why everyone needs to be scared of him.  I actually think it fails at that too.

Rebecca could probably have stumbled upon Simon while he was hunting or something.  I don’t think there was any reason for it to be an attempted rape, other than the writer thinks its edgy.

If I move at all, I will frighten her into some kind of seizure, and it is very important that she remain calm

Now I know that Simon’s writer will say that this is his archaic ideas, but that’s not an excuse of being ableist.  That’s what I meant when I said he wrote that disclaimer so that he didn’t have to edit the content.  There are plenty of words you could put here instead of seizure, especially if you know better in hindsight.  Panic attack springs to mind.  I’m pretty sure he means panic attack anyway.

So there’s a little conversation that I won’t bore you with, it’s mainly about Rebecca realising Simon isn’t human.

I am tempted to demand she assist me in disposing of the corpse, since her altercation has inconvenienced me completely.

It’s nice to see the book version of Simon is as unable to take responsibility for his own choices as the blogging version.

“Throw it away. There is no place in my freezer for that thing.”

I really hope Simon doesn’t mean just throw it away.  But then, he does think forests are full of mouldering corpses.  Maybe this is why.  

...oh, okay he’s going to be cut into pieces.

OMG Simon just killed this guy while wearing Armani. I presume he means a suit, because you don’t iron jeans.  But who wears a motorcycle jacket with a suit?  I think this choice is weirder than the monster thing.

Think about it, Simon doesn’t care about humans, we’re just a meal to him.  But he decided to play the hero on a night when he was wearing an Armani suit?  He could have just walked by and not ruined his clothes.  If I was a monster I would honestly be more pissed about having ruined my expensive clothes than having to dispose of the body.

Rebecca just casually pointing out where she lives right after she almost got raped.  Totally believable.  I think this is supposed to be a depiction of her being in shock.  It’s not very good.

OMG he really does just dump people in forests.  Simon, learn about pigs.

[when-they-write-stuff]

For the fic prompts bc these three were overwhelmingly asked: “I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you” & “I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand” & “You took a bullet for me”

pairing: sterek

wc: 2604

warnings: open ending, violence

Sometimes, Stiles forgot that he was the most unlikely person in the pack to have a happy ending.

It struck him like a blow to the chest whenever he remembered that he was a human among wolves. Between the hunters, the constant threats, and the of the things that they faced on the daily, Stiles was the most likely to not make it through the fights. 

He didn’t have super healing. He had a baseball bat and his wits and sometimes he realized that one day, that wasn’t going to be enough.

So yeah, Stiles always knew there was a chance he lost his happy ending. But he didn’t like to stop and focus on that.

It was a little depressing when he did.

Sitting bound in a dingy warehouse, Stiles once more reflected on these things. One day, he was so going to get out of Beacon Hills. He was going to get out of Beacon Hills and go somewhere far, far away where there were no hunters and no supernatural assholes to put him in the hospital every other week.

Stiles was not a fan. 

He was very firmly trying to avoid looking at the werewolf opposite him, but that wasn’t easy. Stiles didn’t understand how whenever he was kidnapped, Derek seemed to be there with him. The man had supernatural strength; Stiles didn’t. Derek was supposed to be the big badass that got them out of this, not hung in chains opposite of him.

Derek’s shirt hung off him in tatters and he was still unconscious. Stiles didn’t like looking at the empty bullet wound in his shoulder, where one of the hunters had dug the bullet out— much to Stiles’s retching.

Stiles just… he just… he was tired. Of this, of Beacon Hills. Shifting in his position on the floor, he worked his bound hands for a moment before sighing. Stiles was tired. Yeah, that’s what he was.

It took Derek a little longer to wake up.

The man came back to consciousness angry, snarling, and flashing his red eyes. Stiles waited in his spot until Derek’s fight had died down and then he sighed, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“Why good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Stiles, what the hell is this?”

“A good question,” Stiles said. Then he furrowed his brows and backtracked. “Actually, no it’s not. I totally get being kidnapped out of the literal school parking lot for this token human but dude, what the hell? How did they get you?”

Derek shifted again and then winced. He flexed his arm and Stiles flinched away as the bullet wound in his shoulder started to bleed again. “I was shot.”

“I noticed.”

“With wolfsbane.”

“Shut up, Sourwolf, I got to watch the whole ‘digging it out’ process, so you don’t even have room to talk. I’m pretty sure was more painful for me than it was for you because you were unconscious and I was retching.”

Derek rolled his eyes. He moved again and the chains clanged together. The man tugged on them, shifted around once more, and then sighed. 

“Have they hurt you?”

Stiles snorted. The man gave him a flat look. 

“When they come, don’t fight back.”

“I’m well-rehearsed on being kidnapped every other week, dude. I know the basics of not getting myself killed.”

“I’m serious, Stiles.”

“So am I!”

A little bit of red leaked into the man’s eyes. But before he could say another word, the door of the warehouse opened and Stiles straightened as a new hunter came into sight. Stiles didn’t recognize him from earlier, but he did recognize the cattle prod in his hand and that sent a jolt of fear shuddering down his spine.

The hunter didn’t even acknowledge him, though. He went straight to Derek, head tilting as he studied the man’s shoulder. Then he pressed a thumb into it and Stiles shied back as Derek snarled.

“Oh,” the man said. “That looks painful.”

“Asshole.”

Stiles hadn’t really meant to say that aloud but it slipped out anyway. The hunter turned around, one eyebrow raising, and Stiles cursed himself silently.

“The boy who runs with wolves,” the man said, moving closer. “Don’t like seeing your mutt get hurt?”

“Can we skip the back and forth and jump straight into why the hell we’re here?” Stiles said, raising his chin despite Derek’s soft growls. “Cause I’m a teenager and not a werewolf, and I’m pretty sure you hunters are supposed to have a code.”

“Not a werewolf,” the man said, waving a hand through the air. “Not a mutt. Just a boy in over his head playing with the wolves.”

Stiles glared. The man smirked. 

“You’re not here for much. A little bit of incentive, a little bit of bait. I’m hoping your dog will talk when I ask him about the rest of his pack but we can’t count on that, now can we?”

“Screw you.”

Stiles only got a thin-lipped smile. The hunter turned back toward Derek, who snarled again. Suddenly, the cattle prod was pressing against the man’s shoulder, Stiles heard the buzz of electricity, and he screwed his eyes tightly shut as Derek screamed.

“Tell me about the rest of the mutts,” the hunter said. “I’m curious.”

Silence reigned. Then Stiles heard the spark of electricity again and flinched automatically as Derek’s shout filled the air once more.

“I’m not a terribly patient man, Hale.”

When Stiles opened his eyes again, Derek was just glaring. The hunter smirked and let the prod buzz again, his smirk widening at Derek’s wince. Stiles tried to swallow down a litany of curses, meeting Derek’s eyes from over the hunter’s shoulder. He offered his best nod and could’ve sworn Derek’s glare softened a little.

Stiles wasn’t sure how many hours passed after that.

He kept thinking that sooner or later, Scott and the rest of the pack would come bursting through the warehouse doors and everything would be okay. But that never happened. By the time Derek was hanging heavy and limp in the chairs, and the hunter turned toward Stiles with a sick grin, hours had passed. And Stiles was pretty sure they were alone.

They were alone in this.

He finally let himself curse as the hunter untied the ropes and pulled Stiles to his feet. The man dragged him across the room and shoved him back to his knees in front of Derek, and Stiles really tried to not let his panic show. But he was pretty sure he failed as red bled into Derek’s eyes and once more, the man yanked on his chains.

“Come on, Hale,” the hunter said. “Do you really want me to make you choose? I hate to make you choose.”

“Don’t touch him.”

“And there you have it. So, tell me. The human or the pack?”

“Don’t,” Stiles said. “Don’t, Derek, dammit—”

He cut off as something buzzed and then Stiles screamed, unable to hold it in. The electricity that jumped through his body like fire and he’d never wanted to experience something like this. Ever. Derek roared and yanked forward, chains clanging, and Stiles was pretty sure it was only the hunter’s grip that kept him from dropping sideways.

His vision spotted. He wondered if this was what happened when someone put a fork in a power outlet. The hunter carded a hand through Stiles’s hair and tightened his grip, pulling his chin up a little.

“Got anything to say, Hale?”

“Stiles—”

“Don’t,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “Don’t, Derek. I’m fine, I’m okay, and I—”

Electricity jolted through his entire body again. Stiles bit down another scream, just making a warbling noise of pain this time. Derek looked utterly broken.

Stiles’s chest rose and fell in pants. He was definitely only being held up by the hunter’s grip on his hair now. He was pretty sure he could taste something iron in his mouth. Or maybe that was just his heart pounding all the way up in his skull.

“I don’t think the boy can take as many of these as you can, Hale,” the hunter said, dragging the cattle prod across Stiles’s shoulder but not turning it on. Stiles smothered a whimper and Derek flinched. “Do you really want to play this game?”

Derek didn’t say a word. His eyes never left Stiles’s face.

The hunter sighed and Stiles tensed. But the man only pulled the cattle prod back. For a moment, all he could do was blink in confusion.

Then there was a click and Stiles went stock-still as the cool muzzle of a handgun touched his temple. His heart leaped into his throat and Derek yanked forward again, teeth snapping. 

“Don’t!”

“I don’t want to, mutt. Don’t make me shoot a teenager.”

“Please,” Derek said. “Don’t.”

“Tell me about the rest of the werewolves in Beacon Hills.”

Derek looked back at Stiles with terror in his eyes. Stiles tried to shake his head but then the hunter pressed the gun more firmly against his head and all he could do was close his eyes, body tensing up. For a moment, silence reigned.

The hunter sighed. Stiles shivered at the sound.

But suddenly, there was the distant ringing of gunshots and a series of shouts. The hunter straightened, pulling the gun away, and Stiles took that moment to leap for his abandoned cattle prod. Derek shouted his name, Stiles rolled, and then electricity cut through the air once more.

The hunter hit the ground. Stiles shoved himself up, racing toward Derek as the warehouse doors burst open and the fighting spilled in.

“Stiles, go,” Derek said, pulling away as he approached. “Get out of here.”

“Shut up, Sourwolf.” Stiles looked over the chains and then retreated back toward the hunter, searching him for the key. The man groaned and Stiles jabbed the cattle prod back into his gut, turning it on again. The man convulsed a few times before going still again.

Stiles turned back toward Derek, quickly unlocking his chains. The man all but dropped and Stiles only just managed to catch him. Derek leaned heavily against his side, one arm slung over Stiles’s shoulder. 

“Okay, big guy. Let’s get you out of here. Yeah?”

Derek just grunted, face turned into Stiles’s neck. Then he tensed. Stiles gave him a confused look before he heard the click of a trigger. The echo of a gunshot.

Stiles’s blood went cold.

Derek shouted his name as he moved without thinking, dropping the man and angling his body sideways. For a moment, Stiles felt nothing. And then he felt everything— it was like he’d been punched in the stomach. Stiles gasped, stumbling back, and when he placed a hand to his stomach, it came back wet. Red. The smell of iron filled his nose.

Stiles dropped to the floor, gasping in pain.

Faintly, he could hear the sound of the fighting going on a little ways away. Derek roared, there was a blur of movement, and then a scream that cut off. Stiles closed his eyes, clawing at the wound, and then Derek dropped down beside him, gentle fingers cupping his head.

“Stiles, fuck, Stiles.”

“That was dumb,” Stiles said, snorting weakly. “Oh my god, that was so dumb, right? I don’t think the bullet was wolfsbane.”

“It’s still in you.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s not good, right?”

Derek looked downright terrified. Stiles still tried to find the wound, fingers scrabbling weakly, but his stomach was slippery with blood now. And it hurt. It hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, and Stiles realized he’d said all of that out loud. He tried to laugh but ended up gasping in pain, the taste of iron filling his mouth.

“I’m not used to the unhappy endings,” Stiles said, blood staining his teeth. He was terrified, to be honest, heart pounding against his chest as fear crashed over him. But he still offered up his best grin, before squeezing his eyes tightly shut and taking another gasping breath. “I always hoped I’d get someone other than an unhappy ending. Kinda stupid, right?”

“Shut up,” Derek growled. The man’s eyes searched him up and down, very obviously ignoring the bullet wound. “Shut up, you’re going to be fine.”

Stiles didn’t think so. His throat tightened and he realized he wasn’t going to be fine. This didn’t have a simple solution. This didn’t have an easy way out. And it… it was going to kill his dad.

This was going to kill his dad.

Derek’s voice brought him back to reality, hand squeezing Stiles’s tightly as he looked back up at the man’s face. Stiles didn’t understand why Derek looked so pained until he realized his cheeks were damp, tears sliding down in streaks. Stiles barked a shuddering laugh, before taking a gasping breath again.

“Sorry, Sourwolf. I’m not being emotional, I swear.”

“Stop talking, Stiles.”

“You don’t want me to stop talking,” Stiles said. “What if this is the last time you get to hear me ramble again? You’d regret telling me to shut up. You know you would.”

“It’s not the last of anything.”

“I’m just human, buddy,” Stiles said. His heart twisted and he held onto Derek’s hand tighter, like a life force. “I’m just human.”

“I know, Stiles.”

“I don’t heal like you do.”

“I know.”

“I’m dying, Derek.”

The man’s face twisted. Around them, the fighting had quieted, and Stiles startled when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. But they cut off sharply a little ways away and when he heard the croaky “S-Stiles?” he knew there was no way he was going to survive this.

“Scott could give you the bite,” Derek said quietly. Stiles blinked.

“What?”

“He doesn’t want it,” Scott said. “I won’t.”

“I didn’t want the bite,” Stiles said quietly, searching Derek’s face. “I never did.”

“You’re going to die, Stiles.”

One of the betas whined; Stiles wasn’t sure which. He curled his fingers into Derek’s sleeve and tried to shake his head, but he felt a little woozy now. Like he wasn’t fully there. Derek said something that he didn’t catch and he gripped the man’s hand tighter.

He didn’t want to die, Stiles realized. He didn’t want to leave his dad.

Or Derek.

Scott could do it. But Stiles didn’t want that. He searched Derek’s face, swallowing hard. 

Words formed in his mouth but his tongue felt heavy. Sentences of ‘I want you to do it’ and ‘I don’t want to go’ all melded together. When Stiles finally managed to speak, a dozen things spinning through the heavy fog of his brain, the only thing that came out was ‘Want you’ and Derek’s eyes widened.

Stiles was pretty sure that’s not what he’d meant. But he couldn’t get anything else out. The world was dipping to grey around him. Stiles felt his eyelids fluttering closed, fingers curling into Derek’s sleeve even tighter until they slipped off.

He was dying and he was terrified.

He was terrified and unable to form words as Derek said his name over and over again. There was the sound of movement. Derek barked something that Stiles didn’t catch. And then he was being pulled into the man’s chest.

There was a pinch of something right above his collar bone. Stiles thought he cried out, but he wasn’t sure. He thought he felt blood trickle down his shoulder, as if he hadn’t already lost enough.

Someone was yelling. 

And his last thought before everything went black was ‘Want you’. 

He wanted Derek. 

- -

Oh, this one was fun. I don’t usually write open endings but I didn’t want to launch into a 5k+ story just yet so... there could be another part at some point? Perhaps. I hope you all enjoyed!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your struggling student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[wordsfromthesol]

Opposites Attract (1/3)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You are Oliver Queen’s sister, though you retired from the hero life, when Roy asked for your help tracking down a member of the Untitled you couldn’t say no. After all, he was more like a brother to you than Oliver was. Warnings: Language Word Count: 1.7k

Part 2    Part 3

“Alright Roy, no more begging. I’ll come. How much time do I have, I’ve been out of the game for a while.”

“Oh Y/N/N, these are skills you never loose. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where are you guys shacked up now?”

“Gotham…”

“Seriously?” You could barely get the word out through your stifled laughter.

“I’ll text you the directions.”

Of course they are in Gotham, as much as the pretty boy doesn’t want to admit it…he likes being close to family. At least, that’s what you gathered from your conversations with Roy. You hadn’t actually met the infamous resurrected Robin. You opened the door to your safe room and gathered your equipment. You always knew that you would be pulled back to the life, not that you minded. A year ago, it had all just gotten to be too much…too many losses too quickly and you refused to lose yourself.

You arrived in Gotham early the next morning and followed Roy’s instructions, which brought you to an abandoned warehouse. How fitting. Once you go into the elevator, it was like you were in a completely different place, these boys and their hidden bases, you thought shaking your head.

“Roy?” you called out, unsure of any traps you may set off by wandering too far.

“They’ve already been disabled, find yourself an empty bedroom and I’ll be there in a minute!”

What a welcome. Though, you didn’t know what else you were expecting. Roy was more like a brother to you than Ollie was. Given the age gap, Oliver always felt like he had to be your father figure, especially since yours died before you even knew him. Robert was apparently his name, but you’ve only ever seen pictures.

You found a bedroom that seemed empty enough and threw your bags just inside the door so you could explore your new accommodations. You find your way to the kitchen, just as you hear screaming from down the hall.

“Whose fucking shit is in my room?!”

Whoops, I guess you picked a room that wasn’t empty after all. You ran down the hall to meet your new cheerful team member. “Sorry, guess I didn’t realize this room was taken!” You grabbed the duffel bags and threw them into the room across the hall. “You’re Jason, right? I’ve heard so much about you! Sometimes I think you and Roy should just get together.”

Jason just glared at you, unwavering.

“Right, well. Aren’t you just a peach? Roy? You around?”

“Calm your tits, I’m here,” he says while sauntering into the hallway. “Let’s head to the living room and I can read you in.” You followed Jason and Roy into, well more of a mission planning room than a living room.

“So, I haven’t seen her Highness here. Guess I’ll be surrounded by testosterone for this one?”

Roy’s gaze dropped to the floor, “yeah, Kori’s off-world. Some Tamaranean drama. She said she’d call if she needed back-up.” Looking back up at you, “so we needed a third. We got some intel about a member of the Untitled’s whereabouts.”

You had heard of them, something about powerful evil immortals. “And we are trying to kill an immortal? You got a plan for that?”

“Leave that part to me.”

“It speaks! Roy, did you know this one could speak?!” Your intentions were more to cheer Roy up, rather than piss Jason off, but your comment seemed to do both.

Jason clenched his fists, while Roy held back laughter, “Oh come on Jaybird, lighten up!”

“Who is this chick anyways? And why do we need her?”

“I warned you that I would call back-up if you wanted to go on a mission without Kori. This chick is the back-up. Meet Eclipse.”

“Oh, let’s not be so formal my dear brother.” Jason shot a confused glance towards Roy, but you continued before he could comment. “Name’s Y/N Queen. Yes, those Queen’s. I’m Oliver’s sister.”

“Great, just what we need. Another fucking archer.”

“Oh, calm down helmet head. I did not take that family trait. My skills lie closer to that of your older brother.”

“Your skills wouldn’t even compare, this annoying positive attitude could give his a run for his money though.”

“Well someone has to counteract all… (you wave you hand in his direction) that.” You gave him a cheerful smile, one he did not reciprocate. Silence soon took over the room.

“Oh…you two are done antagonizing each other?” Roy finally piped in. “Anyways, Y/N, Jason’s right. There’s not much we can do, well me and you. Killing the Untitled is something that’s on him.”

“Okay…so why am I here?”

“The Untitled don’t travel alone, Y/N/N. Does anyone with so many enemies? Plus, we need to be there to pull Jason out…if things go south. He doesn’t always have the best judgment when it comes to the outcome of a fight.”

“You know I’m sitting right here.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you need to hear it Jaybird.”

“AWH, Jaybird. I’m using it.” For some reason, you couldn’t help but press his buttons.

“No.” Jason stood up and walked back to his room, leaving Roy to finish going over the plan with you. It seemed simple enough, but the timeline is what bothered you.

“Roy…” you glared at him, “this supposed deal doesn’t go down for a month. Why am I here now?”

“Well you said you were rusty.” And with that Roy quickly retreated to his room before you berate him further. It’s true, you were know for your sunny disposition, but once you got angry all bets were off. You had known Roy for 12 years now, in fact he was your main sparring partner once Ollie trusted him enough to introduce the two of you. Even though he was 2 years older, you had been training since you were 5.

You spent the next few days in the gym, relying on your muscle memory to bring you back to your vigilante days. Once you were satisfied, you went off to find Jason. After all, you had spent years sparring with Roy, you knew all his moves as he knew yours. You wanted a challenge, and well, to know you stood a chance going back in the field after your yearlong sabbatical.

*Knock knock*

“Jayybirdd”

“Fuck,” you heard him mumble through the door, “What do you want Y/N?”

“Thought you may want to knock me on my ass, since I annoy you so.” The door swung open, and Jason stood before you wrapped in a towel.

“You know, I just showered, but honestly, there’s no way I can pass that offer up. Give me 5 and I’ll meet you there.” You nodded and walked towards the gym.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea Y/N/N…” Roy called out behind you.

“Well we all know you wouldn’t be a challenge for me”, you smiled with a wink and continued down the hall, ignoring his warning.

You weren’t sure what to expect, you had never seen Jason in the field, but you were definitely surprised when this rhinoceros sized man danced effortlessly around the ring. You figured he would be more of a brute strength type of fighter – but given his mentor, you should have realized Batman would never condone relying on strength alone.

The two of you had been at it for almost an hour, it seemed like neither of you could get the upper hand. Suddenly, you caught a break, jumping to kick him in the chest put him off balance just enough. You quickly swept your leg at the base of his feet, planting his back firmly on the ground. Without hesitation you jumped and pinned his wrists to the ground.

“Ha! Pinned you.” You relaxed your grip but couldn’t will yourself to get up. An awkward amount of time had definitely passed, way too long for you to still be straddling his abdomen. Suddenly you felt him kick his legs up. He easily freed his wrists and used the momentum to propel you both upwards. Now standing straight up, you realized you were clinging to him like a koala. Quickly you jumped down, as he said, “Next time, maybe try to keep me pinned doll,” and walked out of the ring.

You were left standing there, stunned, until you heard a faint chuckle, followed by clapping in the background.

“Wow…what a sight to behold. Y/N lost for words. Really, you guys should just fuck and get this tension out of here.”

“Wh..what?! Why…”

“Just a thought…” Roy mumbled as he walked away.

You and Jason continued to spar throughout the week, though his cold demeanor and off-hand comments were really starting to get to you. Jason walked into the kitchen one early morning and opened with, “Why did a spoiled brat like you even become a vigilante? You could have hired bodyguards and ignored all the hardships the rest of go through, like most of your kind do.” Roy walked in just as you snapped.

“What the fuck have I done to you, Todd? Please enlighten me.”

“Doll, I can’t list it all. It would take all day, and probably most of the night, and frankly I have better things to do.”

Silently you stood up, walked over to him and slapped him. Hard. You walked immediately to the gym, needing an outlet for the anger building up inside.

“Dude, you have no idea what her life, or rather lack thereof, has been like. Y/N never got a choice, Oliver came back from the island when she was 5 and immediately started training her. He sent her alone to the island when she was 9, and she had to find her way back. When I met her a few years later, she had more scars than any person ever should, let alone a 12-year-old.” Roy looked up him, “If this is your way of flirting, you should probably rethink it buddy.”

It took a lot to make Jason feel guilty, but Roy had successfully done it.

[397bartonstreet]

Hey @johnny-and-dora this is for you for the fall fic exchange!! This prompt I wrote for was “autumnal walk in the park” I’m really sorry a pre-series, pre-relationship undercover case is probably not what you asked for but it’s what came to me. Hope you like it!

Also thank you @b99fandomevents for organizing this. These types of things always strike excitement and activity in the fandom during the hiatuses. You guys are awesome!!

About a month ago, Detectives Peralta and Santiago made a huge bust of one of Brooklyn’s most prolific drug rings they’d been investigating since the early summer months. And it was awesome. They smashed into the doors of an abandoned warehouse straight out of an 80’s cop movie. All the men and women inside scattered and refused to go down without a fight, but they were no match for the Nine Nine. There were gunshots, screaming, kicking, punches, all the shebang that make these kinds of events extra epic. They got every single one of those sick, surprisingly attractive bastards. And Jake walked out of that place holding two handcuffed men in slow motion, with an ambient orchestra, an explosion behind him, and wearing sunglasses at night. He looked so cool.

Except they missed one dude. The leader of the drug ring. A fearsome man having hundreds of thousands of dollars to his name, elusive in records, and several deaths on his hands. His name… is Frank Smith.

Jake is still bitter about that.

The day before, Jake got a tip that this Anatole Kuragin (he refuses to call him Frank Smith) would be exchanging information with another dealer in plain sight at Prospect Park in the middle of the day. Jake guesses he understands the logic, no one would expect such a wanted criminal prancing around in daylight. But if he were truly smart, he wouldn’t risk it. And you can never tell if strangers walking through the park are also hiding in plain sight, waiting to catch you in the act and arrest you.

Captain Holt gave the orders for Jake and Amy to disguise as a married couple simply taking their child on a stroll through the park. Which is where they were now. Casually walking through Prospect Park pushing a clunky stroller they found in the precinct and wearing probably the dorkiest outfits Jake has ever worn on a case. He’s dressed like a father in suburbia, not a dope ass detective about to make a dope ass arrest.

“This is the worst. How am I supposed to look cool when I’m wearing a sweater vest and khaki pants?” he grunts toward his partner.

“Jake, this is not about looking cool, it’s about making the arrest and making the community a better place,” Amy says haughtily.

“This is like, the 20th case I’ve done with you and every single time you say something lamer and lamer,” he responds.

“I’m not the one keeping count.” Jake ignores her and instead makes his first survey of the park. They were told that the perp would be wearing a golden chain around his wrist to be easily recognized, but so far he sees no intimidating assholes wearing the friendship bracelet. Everyone here seems to be teenagers totally not smoking pot and families that look just like they do right now. They blend right in.

“The tip said that the exchange would be near the bridge. Let’s casually walk over there and take a ‘break’ on the bench and we’ll wait there,” Jake whispers to her.

“Ooh, it’ll give us time to enjoy the view. New York parks in Fall are the best. Everything is all colorful and beautiful, it’s like one of the only good things about this state,” Amy says. Jake switches his view from the people to the trees. It is beautiful, if he took casual strolls - which, who would want to be alone with their thoughts for that long- this would be the perfect time to do it. It’s picture perfect, with the way the leaves steadily drizzle down like rain, and the cloudy sky seems to bring out their vibrant colors. And the slight chill causing a want for warm drinks and comfy sweaters. It’s romantic, and he almost wants to pretend he’s not here for a case, and instead just take in the view. With his earphones in of course, he meant what he said about being alone with his thoughts.

“It’s a shame we’re working, I’d totally challenge on you who can make a bigger leaf pile,” she says with a smirk and he’s pulled out of his thoughts to cast her something impish.

“Oh, you’re on. We’ll come back tomorrow, I’ll even bring a pumpkin pie because I’m going to cream you,” he smirks. They reach the agreed bench to wait out the perp, and Amy struggles a bit to align the stupid stroller when she sits.

“What? That made literally no sense,” she says as he sits down beside her.

“Of course it does. What do you top pie with? Whipped cream and I’m going to whip you into cream, title of my sex tape.” Amy cringes and he can tell she’s resisting the urge to punch him in the arm.

“That’s disgusting, and if you have to explain the comeback then it wasn’t a good one.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Alright, back to business. You watch this way and I’ll watch that way,” he says and points in the opposite directions. All playfulness immediately leaves Amy’s demeanor and she’s back to being completely professional. It’s one thing Jake can admire about her, she’s incredibly dedicated at her job. She can flip the switch from casual to focused in a second, he can’t even do that.

Jake blinks away his thoughts, turning his attention back to his side. A comfortable silence falls between them, the only noise being Amy rocking the stroller back and forth and her shushing at the doll inside.

He’s trying not to show that he’s definitely staring intently at the man sitting alone on a bench, when he feels a sudden weight on his thigh. He looks down to see Amy’s hand opened expectantly. When he turns to her, she’s still just scouring the scene.

“What?” Jake asks. Amy turns back to him and flexes her hand in gesture.

“Hold my hand,” she says impatiently, as if this is just another everyday bit of police work.

“Hold your hand? For what?” he’s incredulous when he asks this, but he still places his hand on top of hers and Amy grips back.

“Because we’re supposed to be married,” she says.

“Isn’t the giant stroller in front of us indication enough that we’re straight smashing it?” Amy flashes him a glare.

“A stroller only goes so far, we won’t be very convincing if we’re stiff as boards.” She has a point, but of course he’s not going to say that out loud. Instead, he tightens her hand around his and pulls it closer to his lap. Out of instinct, of course, because that’s what couples do.

He can’t help but note that it feels kind of nice, her hand a cold contrast to his warm one. He tends to overheat, even in the Fall weather, and her hand provides some nice relief. He doesn’t dwell on that though, he has a case to solve, and it’s the last time he’ll ever hold Amy Santiago’s hand anyway.

Jake tries squinting as discreetly as possible at the wrists of those in his line of sight, trying to spot the golden chain. There aren’t many men lurking around the park, and none of them seem to be wearing any bracelets. Except for one guy, who has his hands behind his back. Jake keeps an eye on him.

“Are you cold, Patricia? You need mommy to give you another blanket?” Amy says loudly so anyone around them can hear.

“Patricia?” Jake asks.

“What about it, Jake” she groans, bracing herself for a round of teasing.

“That’s what you would name your daughter? Patricia?”

“It’s just the first one that popped into my head okay,” she hisses. “What would you name her?”

“Me? I’d probably name her something badass. Like Rogue, or Rebel,” he says, nodding his head.

“Rogue sounds like the antagonist of an awful racing movie,” she laughs. “If I had a daughter, I would probably want to name her something that’s kind of meaningful and touching. I’ve always thought about naming my daughter Carmen, after my grandmother,” she says.

“Aw, that’s actually really nice. Then I’d call her Caramel. Caramel Carmen. Giving your daughter nicknames is Peak dad.”

“Your daughter? Are we having this baby together,” Amy snorts, a mischievous glint in her eye. She absolutely knows that pointing this out will make him squirm, and Jake hates that she’s right.

“What? No! It’s just… the undercover situation that’s all… stop looking at me like that” he says and doesn’t wait for her reply, just puts his attention back to the mission. Thankfully she doesn’t press, just lets him continue the surveillance. What he sees is lots of people that look like them, but then again not really. There’s at least one parent with a kid around them or pushing a stroller as awkward as theirs. And in the park, with the autumn leaves falling around them, and the kids making piles and kicking at them. They’re real, natural, unlike they are.

He remembers having that with his own mom. Whenever his mom found time and wasn’t working, she would take him to the park. And in the autumn months, he’d do exactly what that little kid with the chocolate curls and Ninja Turtles beanie over there is doing. Shoving pine cones into his pocket and then chucking them into the arm to see how far he can throw them. Looking back to his mother for praise.

If he was a dad, he’d be throwing pine cones with him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t know why, he lets himself imagine what it would be like if this was real. If he was sitting in a New York park during its peak season, with a stroller in front of him holding a baby, a real baby that would be his, that would grow up to be like that little boy over there. The hand he’s holding in his lap would be his wife’s, a woman he actually loved. If it were his wife, he thinks, he wouldn’t just hold her hand, he’d lace their fingers together. He does just that, changing positions to demonstrate how he’d do it. He would also stroke her thumb softly, and he gives the hand he’s holding an experimental caress. He looks up at Amy, who is still rocking the stroller and her eyes still focused on what’s in front of her. If Amy were his wife, he’d playfully tug on that strand of hair that’s gotten loose from her ponytail- he stops. If Amy were his wife?

He blinks several times, pulling himself back to earth and away from whatever just happened. He even shakes his head a little for good measure, to rid of whatever the hell kind of intrusive thought that was. Amy would be the last person in the entire world he’d marry. He’s known her for a year now and the only non work related thing he’s ever heard her talk about was a seminar for perfecting the art of nonverbal communication. Which is like the nerdiest thing he’s heard anyone ever say. If anyone were to be his wife, it would be the hot, flirty, movie ticket seller that’s always giving him eyes.

He looks down at their hands to see that they’re still joined. Not only joined, but laced together. Not only laced together, but his thumb is still slightly caressing hers, and he quickly lets go like he’s burned himself. Amy doesn’t even seem to notice his internal struggle, or acknowledge the way he let go suddenly. She just puts the hand on the handlebar to aid the other.

Well… he guesses Amy is pretty in that pre-makeover nerdy type before the transformation that makes her popular kind of way. Not that he watches those movies.

But not for him, no way. Not Amy. He doesn’t even know why he’s still thinking about this.

“You want to yell at me for being stiff? You look like an animatronic,” he teases, hiding his awkward cough through a laugh.

“Shut up Peralta. I’m just trying to do my job here,” she says. A shiver suddenly wracks her body. “God, I need this guy to hurry up, I’m freezing.”

“Seriously? You’re wearing a scarf and gloves.”

“I get cold easily, leave me alone,” she says, and another shiver chatters her teeth a bit. It makes him feel kind of bad, the only reason they’re out here anyway is because he didn’t go for the ring leader first like he normally would before getting away. The boss is always the biggest collar, and in the excitement he didn’t think. So, before he can think about it too much, he’s shrugging off his leather jacket.

“Here, take this,” he holds it out for her.

“Oh, no, I’m fine man, I’ll just-“

“It’s fine, you wearing my jacket will add to our undercover look and make us less suspicious,” he says with a lowered voice. Amy purses her lips in contemplation for a moment more before taking the jacket and sliding into it, shuffling a little to make sure her badge, gun, and handcuffs are still easily accessible.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice betraying some shyness and embarrassment, she’s about to say something more when something catches her attention, her brows furrowing and lips pursing. “I found the guy. Gold chain on his wrist in plain sight.”

And just like that they’re back in the zone. Two detectives lurking about twenty feet away from the bastard they’ve got their eye on.

“Alright you get left, I’ll get right. Rosa is waiting for us in a black van over there so we have to grab him and take him to the car. Remember, be as quiet about this as possible, we don’t want to scare anyone.” Amy says. Of course with cases like these they can never be too quiet, but the quieter it is, the less panic there will be.

They both stand and walk the stroller towards the perp, Amy going left and him going right like instructed. Away from the bench they were sitting on, and away from the happy children and parents enjoying the daylight. Away from the little boy with the Ninja Turtles beanie that reminds him a little too much of himself. Away from the fathers he’ll probably never be.

And sure, maybe he won’t ever be a father, or have a wife to have autumnal strolls with. But right now he’s got what he does best. And he gets to do it right now, take down a badass crime boss in… maybe not the most badass outfit. You win some you lose some.

Being a detective is all he’s ever wanted, and he’s totally good with that.

He really is.

He swears.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @whateverrrrwhatever!

For @whateverrrrwhatever, Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy! :) <3

Read on AO3

*****

Christmas Kisses 

Derek pulled his truck to the side of the road, and pushed it into park. He stared at the sign in front of him, a tightness in his chest.

Welcome to Beacon Hills.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Derek sucked in a ragged breath, letting go of the wheel to rub at his eyes.

He was thinking he had no where else to go. Cora was officially married into a new pack. None of the relationships he’d had in the last ten years had made him want to… stay. He’d been wandering around long enough.

It was time to do what his dreams kept showing him. It was time to rebuild on his family’s land.

But ten years was a long time. And he hadn’t spoken to anyone from Beacon Hills since he left.

Dragging in another breath, Derek dropped his hand and looked up. The sign still looked back at him, but it looked… almost cheerful. It looked intact, at least. Maybe Beacon Hills wasn’t that bad anymore. Maybe all the hunters and werewolves and supernatural creatures had moved away. Maybe everyone he’d met here was long gone by now, and Derek was worrying about nothing. That was most likely, right? Ten years was a long time. Scott McCall and Chris Argent and… Stiles. They had probably all left.

He didn’t know why that thought made his chest tighten even more.

A flash of light brought Derek out of his thoughts, and he cursed when he saw it was a deputy’s car pulling up behind him. He pushed down his window when he heard the sound of a car door open and close, fully prepared to just get this over with and then turn the car around to put Beacon Hills behind him again once and for all.

But then his eyes widened when a familiar scent hit his nose.

“Hey, buddy, can I see your licence and- holy shit, Derek?”

They stared at each other, both of their eyes wide in surprise. Stiles was dressed as a deputy, all grown up and grown into an adult uniform. He looked… good. He looked great, actually. Derek tore his eyes away from him, looking down at his own scruffy leather jacket and jeans. His beard hadn’t been trimmed in weeks. He probably looked a mess.

Derek cleared his throat and got a hold of himself, he forced his eyes back up. “Stiles.”

“Yeah, uh, hi,” Stiles coughed, he looked a little dazed. Like he’d seen a ghost… though in some ways, he kind of had. Ten years was a long time.

Then suddenly, Stiles head looked sharply behind them, grabbing the receiver strapped to his shoulder. “Parrish stand down, it’s only Derek.”

“Derek who?” A disjointed voice asked through the speaker.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Derek Hale. The wolf from years ago? Owns half of the preserve?”

Parrish? A vague memory of a deputy with some sort of supernatural powers came to mind. Apparently more people had stayed in Beacon Hills than he thought.

“Copy that,” the voice said before going silent. Stiles rolled his eyes again.

“Sorry, my partner can get a bit protective,” he grinned at Derek then, the same grin that Derek remembered from all those years ago. “How are you, man? What are you doing here, parked illegally right outside of BH?”

“I’m…” Derek flexed his fingers awkwardly against the wheel. “I’m good. I’m back.”

“Back? Like you’re moving back to Beacon Hills?”

Derek nodded, “yeah.”

“Dude that’s awesome!” Stiles said, causing Derek’s breath to catch. Did he… really want Derek to move back? After everything he’d put them through? “Scott’s still the Alpha around here, you should give him a call, make like a peace treaty or whatever. Hell, rejoin the pack if you really want to dive right back into it.”

Rejoin the pack? Derek opened his mouth, but Stiles had pulled out a notepad and was writing frantically on it.

Derek didn’t recall ever being considered part of the pack in the first place though.

“Not that there’s much to dive back into, most of the pack action nowadays involves bowling competitions or card games, but it’s a hell of a lot less stressful than the shit we did in highschool. Anyway - this is Scott’s number, this is mine, and this is my address if your doing what I think your doing and planning on sleeping in an abandoned building instead of, say, a place with an actual functional roof.”

Derek grunted when Stiles shoved the paper through the window. He wasn’t about to tell Stiles that was, in fact, his plan… at least for the first few nights.

“Tough luck, bucko, ten years changes a lot. Most of those old rundown places have been renovated now. You’ll just have to sleep on my couch if you’re unwilling to sleep in the motel. Which I don’t blame you for, the motel is creepy as fuck.”

“Um,” Derek stared down at the paper, at Stiles swirly familiar writing with an address and phone numbers written on it. “Thank you.”

Stiles smiled at him, “no problemo, pal.” He tapped the top of Derek’s truck. “Now get out of here, you’re not allowed to park here.”

“Right.”

Stiles gave him an awkward salut wave… thing, and then he walked out of eyesight.

Derek started his engine and drove away before Stiles even got into the car.

–

Derek drove until he got to his old family home, or at least where it used to be. The city had sent him a demolition notice years ago and he hadn’t bothered to reply. It was good that it was gone now. Nothing bad could happen if it was nothing but a hole in the ground.

He wasn’t planning on building here, but farther in. Closer to the river that ran through the preserve. Farther from the road.

Derek slept in his truck that night, curled up in his reclined chair. He regretted it as soon as he woke up, his back spasming and his mouth tasting like dirt. He was getting too old to do this.

Grabbing a bottle to swish the taste out of his mouth, Derek stared at the hole in front of him. He thought of maybe planting a garden here, when he was done with the house. Or making a makeshift pond, for the wildlife. California was always in a drought, it seemed, they would probably appreciate the extra water.

He’d think about that later. First, he had to relearn his territory.

Derek spent most of the day walking the length of his land, his senses heightened and his blood thrumming in his veins. It felt good, to walk these paths again. Felt like he was coming home, for the first time in years.

He ended in the clearing beside the river. The one he wanted his new house to be built.

It would be smaller, but more protected. Homier, if it went the way Derek wanted. He hoped the bushes along the east side could be saved, as they grew berries every summer. He could bake the pies his grandmother used to bake.

He could settle here, be happy here. He felt it in his bones.

With a final nod, he walked away, feeling like he’d made the first right decision in a decade.

–

Derek called Scott, who simply said that Stiles had told him all about it already, and that of course Derek could stay as long as he wanted. No questions asked. No concerns voiced. No… demand for a treaty, or request to join the town’s established pack.

Just a, “no worries, man, I’m sure I’ll see you around!”

The whole conversation only lasted two minutes, but it left him reeling.

Scott hadn’t sounded angry, or even annoyed, to hear from him… he’d actually sounded kind of happy.  Scott and Stiles had done a lot of growing up while he was gone, it was going to take some getting used to.

After that he wandered around the town, taking note of what changed and what hadn’t. Stiles had been right, all of the places Derek had stayed in before were gone. The old train depot was now a restaurant. His warehouse that he’d sold was a renovated apartment building.

Stiles had been right about something else too… the motel was creepy. And it smelled like mold, from the parking lot.

He climbed back into his truck and tapped the wheel, his eyes on the paper he’d shoved into his cup holder. Stiles had offered but… he hadn’t really been expecting Derek to show up at his house, surely.

But then… when did Stiles ever do anything he didn’t want to?

And Derek didn’t want to put his back through the pain of sleeping in his truck again. Or at least, that’s what he was telling himself.

The address Stiles had given him was only a few streets down from his old house. The building was smaller, but still had the same feeling to it. Still made Derek’s shoulder’s relax, and his grip on the wheel loosen. It wasn’t exactly the home he’d been picturing for a 27 year old man, but it fit, somehow. More so than an apartment building, or a basement suite. Stiles, for some reason in Derek’s mind, should live in a home with an apple tree in the yard, and a potted plant by the front door.

It suited him.

Or at least, he thought it did. Until he saw the pink bike leaning against the garage door.

Frowning, Derek double checked the address. This was the right place and, when he opened the door, it did smell like Stiles. Maybe that was a neighbors bike? A friends kid?

Derek shook his head, he supposed it didn’t really matter. Stiles blue Jeep, miraculously still working apparently, was parked in the driveway, so Derek went to the door. He only hesitated a moment before knocking.

A small girl answered the door.

“Hi!” She said, looking up with Derek with big round eyes.

“Um, hi.” Derek glanced around, “sorry, I have the wrong house.”

“This is the Stilinski residence,” the girl chirped, like she was answering a phone call, “who are you looking for?”

Derek blinked. This was the Stilinski residence?

“Derek, hey!” Stiles appeared behind the girl, and suddenly everything clicked. The two of them had the same hair, the same pale skin, the same moles. The only explanation was this was Stiles daughter.

Stiles was a father.

And Derek had showed up at his house, planning on… thinking he would… he didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to do it now, obviously.

“Dude, come on in,” Stiles waved him in, and Derek followed the motion wordlessly. The girl pointed to where Derek could leave his coat and shoes, so he did that too.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting down at a small round table in the middle of a kitchen, being served pasta with the two of them.

“Um..”

“Daddy’s spaghetti and meatballs is the best. Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” the girl told him seriously, before starting to shovel food into her mouth.

Derek blinked down at his bowl again, “um, thank you.”

Stiles sat down beside him, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned…” he waved his hand vaguely around the table, in a very Stiles like gesture that Derek had missed. “Though to be fair, I didn’t think you’d take me up on my offer.”

Derek’s chest tightened, “I can leave.”

“No, no, not what I meant. Just, now I need to do some, you know, intros,” Stiles cleared his throat. “This is Matty, my daughter. Matty, this is Derek, an old friend of mine.”

Matty waved at him from across the table, Derek nodded back awkwardly. A daughter, confirmed. A daughter that looked… what, eight? He didn’t know, but she looked around that age. She looked like a mini version of Stiles, sitting here inhaling her dinner while watching everything Derek did.

Except for her eyes. Her eyes are hazel, and sharp in a way that would cut through anything put in front of her. They reminded him of someone… but it wasn’t Stiles.

Matty swallowed her mouth full of food, “are you a werewolf?”

Derek’s brows rose. Though he supposed with Stiles as her father, he shouldn’t be surprised. “Yes.”

Matty nodded, like she knew this already. “My names really Matilda, because Daddy says I’m the smartest girl in the whole wide world. Even smarter than Mommy, and she’s won awards for being smart!”

A woman whose won awards for being smart, and had sharp hazel eyes?

Lydia Martin.

Because of course it was Lydia. Who else would Stiles ever have a child with?

“I go by Matty though, because it sounds better,” Matty finished, going back to her food. Derek just nodded. Apparently him being a werewolf was less important than telling him about her name… this was…

This was definitely Stiles daughter.

–

The night was illuminating, to say the least.  Stiles was a good dad. A great dad. He knew what Matty needed before she did. He had her milk refilled before she even noticed it was empty. He had her colouring at the kitchen table, giggling at the Spongebob pictures, while he cleaned up the kitchen.

Derek coloured with her too, at her request. He even got to colour in Sandy who was, apparently, the best character in the show.

Stiles had Matty prepped and ready for school the next day by 6:30, had her curled up and cuddled for ‘getting sleepy time’, but 7:30.

She was asleep by 8.

He fell onto the couch next to Derek in clear exhaustion, but he smelled happy. Happier than he ever had before.

“I hope the couch is okay. Don’t really have any other space here. I know it’s not as big as my dad’s house, but I can’t really afford -”

“No, it’s… thank you. The couch is fine.”

Stiles smiled at him. Wordlessly, he turned on the TV. They sat together in comfortable silence, reruns of an old sitcom playing. Only an hour later Stiles headed to bed himself, telling Derek he was welcome to their shower and anything in the kitchen if he needed it.

Derek lied on the couch, with a blanket and pillow that smelled of Stiles and Matty, wondering what else he had missed in the last ten years.

–

The next day, Stiles was up at 6:45, and Matty was up at 7:15. They had a very loud breakfast of toast, bacon and eggs in the kitchen. Derek knew all of this because he lay awkwardly on the couch and watched it happen. The living room was really more like an extension of the kitchen, with only the kitchen table creating a divide. He was happy observing them though. He was enjoying watching Stiles be a dad.

Well, he was, until Matty saw him lying on the couch with his eyes open.

“Derek! You’re awake!” She came running into the room. “Come have breakfast with us!” She grabbed his hand and tugged, showing no fear at all that he was a beta werewolf that could very easily toss her to the side.

He finally stood to to let Matty drag him to the kitchen, and he found Stiles watching them from the counter. His eyes showed no fear of Derek either. If anything, he looked wistful. Derek felt a tug in his chest, and he looked away, down at the table piled with bacon and eggs. When he looked back, Stiles was smiling at Matty again, asking her to get their plates.

Maybe he’d imagined that wistful expression. Maybe Derek had just wanted him to look like that because… because Derek wanted him to.

“Derek, you can butter the toast,” Stiles said, moving to help Matty set the table.

Derek swallowed, it was too early in the morning to be worrying about what Stiles looks meant. He dutifully went to the toaster, grabbing the pieces that flew out when they were done.

Matty ate breakfast standing on her chair, excitedly telling them both what she was going to be doing in school that day.

Stiles shoots him an apologetic smile, but Derek shook his head. It was nice to be in such a lively house again. It felt like a real home.

“And next week we get to go to the Gingleberry Farm, and Mrs. West said I can be the one to feed the chickens if I want to because I got all the questions right on my sheet, and I raised my hand the fastest when she asked if any of us wanted to feed the chickens. I bet we’ll all get to feed them if we want, but I get to feed them first. And then after that we get to see the pigs and-”

Derek smiled down at his breakfast. He could almost picture a small version of Stiles doing the same thing when he was this age. Hell, he could remember a sixteen year old Stiles, acting exactly like this whenever a new supernatural creature caught his attention.

“Alright, my little gingleberry, finish your breakfast. We gotta go in five minutes.”

“Daddy,” Matty laughed, “Gingleberry is a name, it’s not a real berry.”

“What?” Stiles frowned at her, “next you’re going to tell me a Flafahorn isn’t a real type of goat.”

“Daddy! You just made that word up!”

“Psh, I did not. The Flafahorn is a beautiful creature that doesn’t deserve your doubt. Back me up here, Der.”

They both turned to Derek, Matty’s eyes full of laughter, and Stiles full of amusement, but also a bit of tension. He probably didn’t think Derek would actually play along with his game.

But he could do this. This is something he’d learned to do with his younger sisters after all…. A lifetime ago.

Derek nodded seriously, “it’s true, Matty, the Flafahorn is a kind of goat that is about the size of a mouse,” Derek cupped his hands together.

Matty’s eyes narrowed skeptically, and Stiles was watching him like he had two heads. Derek ignored him though, his eyes on Matty.

“Really?” Matty asked.

“Of course, they live all around the world. Do you know where their favorite place is though?”

“Where?”

“The inside of little kids shoes.”

Matty blinked, and then started giggling, “noo! You’re making this up! Shoes are smelly.”

Derek nodded, “true they are, but the Flafahorn goats like that. The smellier the better, that’s why little kid shoes are the best. Because little kids have the smelliest feet.” He wrinkled his nose up at that, and Matty giggled again.

“Ew, Derek! I don’t have smelly feet.”

Derek shrugged, “better hurry up and finish your breakfast then, so you can go check your shoes. A Flafahorn might be in there right now, having a nice nap in your sneakers.”

Matty looked at him, and then looked at Stiles who didn’t seem to know what to make of any of this so he nodded. She turned back to her plate to shove all of her eggs in her mouth, chugged her orange juice, and then ran to the front door.

“Daddy! I need to check my shoes!” She shouted behind her.

Stiles shook his head, a smile growing across his face, “oh my God, I don’t even know who you are right now.”

Derek smiled, watching Matty peer into every shoe lined up beside the front door. “I used to do this with my sisters. Cora believed for years that a troll would move into her room unless she kept it clean.” Derek smiled at the memory. “She almost broke my arm when she was thirteen and she realized I’d made the whole thing up.”

“Trolls,” Stiles snorted, “Flafahorn goats, Jesus, what are you going to pull out next?”

Stiles stood up and started to collect the dishes, but Derek stood up as well and stopped him. “I can do this, go take Matty to school.”

“Wha- are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine, I got this. It’s the least I can do.”

“Derek.”

“Stiles,” Derek lifted a brow. Stiles snorted.

“I don’t know how I forgot about those things,” Stiles nodded up at Derek’s forehead. “I used to be able to have full conversations with them.”

“I’m sure you still can. Now go, I got this.”

“Okay,” Stiles moved out of the kitchen, grabbing two lunch bags on the way. “Okay, um, stay here as long as you like, there’s a spare key by the front door if you need to go anywhere though, um… we don’t have much food, but feel free to take whatever.” Stiles hesitated another moment, before he did his strange salut thing again and left to help Matty into her coat and backpack.

Matty mostly needed the help because she was still peering into shoes, but she left a second later without a fuss.

Derek watched them get into the car through the front window, and then turned to the kitchen. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to get everything tidied up again, and he did notice in that time that there was barely any food in the fridge. Just eggs, juice, and half a container of yogurt.

He thought of going out and buying more, but he didn’t want to cross any lines. Stiles was being nice enough letting Derek stay here as it was.

After the kitchen was clean, Derek wandered around the house, looking at the pictures on the wall he’d noticed before but hadn’t wanted to look at with Stiles standing right there.

They were mostly of Stiles and Matty. A few of the two of them with the Sheriff. A few with Scott, who he supposed was Uncle Scott to Matty, Kira and Malia. A group shot with Stiles, Matty, the Sheriff, Scott, Kira, Parrish, Malia, Lydia, and a few people he couldn’t name, including a few other kids. It looked like a pack picture. They all looked really happy.

Derek was glad for them. Beacon Hills deserved to have a happy pack in it again.

There was also a picture of Stiles and Lydia, holding a very small baby version of Matty between them on a hospital bed. So, that confirmed that. That was the only other picture with Lydia though, aside from the pack picture, and he didn’t see any other signs of Lydia in the house.

Derek didn’t want to assume what that meant though.

The Stiles in the picture looked more like the Stiles he knew. The teenager who had his hair spiked up in a mess, and who wore colourful plaid shirts every day.

And with Matty being about eight now… Stiles must have been young when they had her. That would have been hard.

He wondered what it would have been like if Derek had been there to help. If Derek had-

Derek shook the thought away and moved on to the rest of the house. Though, it was really just the living area, kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms. It was small, but it was cozy. Derek didn’t think Stiles had anything to be ashamed of living here.

He left before he fell to the urge to look into Stiles room. Stiles was an adult now, and Derek didn’t want to be the creep sneaking through his room again. They’ve grown. He was better than that.

He locked the door behind him, and sighed.

It was time for him to find a place to live.

–

Derek found a studio apartment that would let him move in at the end of the week. It was even furnished, which would be nice. And it was only a five minute drive from Stiles and Matty’s house… not that that mattered.

He found a construction crew who was willing to meet with him in two days to discuss his plans to build on his family land. Money wasn’t an issue, and Derek mostly needed the man power otherwise this could take him years on his own.

After that, he wasn’t sure what to do, so he decided to try out one of the new restaurants he saw in the downtown of Beacon Hills.

He was surprised to see Malia standing beside the front door when he walked in.

“Oh my God, Derek! Kira, Derek’s here!”

Kira came running out of the back, her hair tied up and an apron over her front. He stood still in surprise as both of the women circled him in a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Derek!” Kira said. “Sit, sit, what can we get you?”

“Um,” Derek moved where Malia dragged him, sitting down at the table closest to the kitchen. He stared blankly at the menu Malia dropped in front of him. “I don’t know. Whatever you like, I guess.”

“Okay, I’ll go tell Casey to whip it up. Malia, get him water or something.”

The two of them left, and Derek looked around the restaurant. Most of the tables were full, but none of the customers seemed all that confused by Malia and Kira’s behaviour. Maybe this was normal?

Malia came back with three waters, and Kira came back a second later with her apron and hairnet off.

Apparently they were having lunch together.

It was a very informative lunch. The two of them told Derek how in the last ten years, it has been mostly peaceful in Beacon Hills. Everything calmed down seven years ago, after Lydia found a way to heal the Nemeton, and that had stopped the pull of other supernatural’s from coming here.

The pack had grown, and they were healthy and strong. Everyone had been able to move on, go to school and get real jobs. Kira and Malia had opened their restaurant. Stiles had become a cop. Scott now worked as the couch and science teacher at the high school.

“Science teacher?” Derek frowned, that was not what he had pictured Scott being.

“Yeah well,” Malia shrugged, “vet school takes forever, and he’s the Alpha. He kind of needs to be here.”

“Plus, I think this suits him better,” Kira smiled. “You should come by our house sometime! We have pack dinners every Sunday in our backyard, you should come.”

Derek frowned, “your house?”

“Yeah. It’s custom for the Alpha to host, you know how it is.”

“Oh, you and Scott,” Derek felt his ears warm. “Sorry, I thought you and Malia… nevermind.”

Kira and Malia shared a smirk, “no you’re right, we are. The three of us live together, with our two kids.”

Derek was sure his ears were bright red now. “Oh.”

Malia laughed, but Kira just smiled at him. Until she checked the time. “Speaking of, I have to go pick those two up from school, Matty too. I’m bringing them all here, after we head to the park for a bit, if you’re sticking around?”

Derek shook his head, “I should go. Thank you though, this was great.” He pulled out his wallet, but Malia batted his hand away.

“Our treat,” she said. “A welcome home gift.”

–

Derek sat in his truck, tapping his fingers against the wheel.

Ten years.

Eight year old Matilda Stilinski.

Seven years of peace with a healed Nemeton.

It didn’t take a genius to do the math. Lydia cured the town for her daughter. She probably spent her first year figuring it out, so Matty didn’t have to live in fear. Didn’t have to grow up like all the rest of them grew up… fighting evil every other day.

But then why wasn’t Lydia here now? Derek didn’t miss the fact that she was left out of a lot of Malia and Kira’s stories. She wasn’t in the pictures on Stiles walls. And aside from the one comment last night, Matty didn’t talk about her either.

And Kira was going to pick Matty up from school. Because Stiles was still at work and… who else was going to do it? The Sheriff was probably still working too, and Stiles didn’t have anyone else.

That wasn’t entirely true though. He had the pack now, and the pack was looking after Matty.

Derek tapped on his wheel twice more, and then made a decision.

If the pack was going to go out of their way to help Matty and Stiles, Derek could too.

He started up his truck and headed for the grocery store, to buy the food he knew Stiles and Matty didn’t have.

–

Derek was just putting the casserole into the oven when Matty and Stiles came home. Matty ran to her room, shouting something Derek didn’t understand. Stiles moved at a slower pace, taking off his shoes and lining Matty’s up with his beside the door before he straightened up and entered the kitchen.

Derek saw the moment Stiles understood what was happening, because Stiles suddenly looked like he was about to cry.

“I, uh, made a macaroni casserole,” Derek said, hoping he hadn’t done the wrong thing. “Is that okay?”

“Is that okay?” Stiles laughed, but his eyes were still shiny. “Dude, my kitchen is the cleanest it’s been since… since I moved in, and you have dinner cooking already, and you’re asking me if that’s okay?”

“I, uh,” Derek reached out to straighten a dish towel. “I hope Matty likes macaroni. I made sure it had vegetables in it.”

Stiles didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he stepped forward and engulfed Derek in a hug.

His second hug today.

“This is amazing, Derek, thank you.”

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles gently, feeling his muscles relax in Stiles hold. This was the type of hug he used to long for. The type that brought comfort, after a long day.

They only pulled apart when Matty came waltzing into the kitchen, paper and pencil crayons in her arms.

“Derek, draw me a Flafahorn, I need to know what it looks like if I’m going to find one.”

Derek raised his brows, and looked over at Stiles, who was already watching him. They shared a smile. Stiles eyes looked less watery now. They looked like they were sparkling with joy.

Derek wished they could always look like that.

He sat down and picked up a purple pencil crayon, making up the imaginary goat as he went along. He smiled when Stiles sat down beside him and followed his lead, creating a picture that looked almost identical to Derek’s, with just a few added spots and horns.

Matty, her tongue sticking out in concentration, followed along, and soon enough it was more about the drawings, and less about the Flafahorn goats.

Derek felt happier than he could ever remember being.

–

Derek moved into his apartment that weekend, but not much changed. He still made the effort to go to the Stilinski’s every night to make dinner. He still spent his evenings colouring with Matty, going on walks to the park, watching movies on their couch.

And somehow, Derek found himself being invited to everything else as well.

He was asked to join the weekly Wednesday night dinners at the Sheriff’s house. He was invited along to Matty’s Thursday softball games, and the Stilinski Friday night movie marathons.

It was… nice. Special.  

Every time Derek worried he was overstepping his welcome, Stiles would catch his eye and smile. Or Matty would grab his hand and pull him to her next adventure.

He was helping them, and they were helping him. Like pack. For the first time since Erica and Boyd… Derek felt like he had pack again.

On the weekends, Derek often took them to the preserve to see how the new house was going, or simply to walk around the Hale land for fun.

And every Sunday night, they went to the pack dinner at Malia, Kira and Scott’s house.

He was always surprised how easily he was welcomed there.

Parrish passed him and Stiles a beer each as soon as they stepped into the backyard. Matty ran to join Robin and Elliot’s game of… something involving throwing, in the corner of the yard. Derek kept an eye on that while Stiles went to find Scott. He knew it was probably harmless, but Robin and Elliot were 5 year old werewolves. He didn’t want Matty to get hurt.

“You’re good for them,” a voice said behind him.

Derek turned in surprise when then Sheriff stepped up next to him. “Um, sorry?”

The man chuckled, “you’re good for them, Matty and Stiles. Matty’s laughing more now than I’ve ever seen her, and Stiles doesn’t have bags under his eyes anymore.” He clapped Derek on the shoulder, “I was working myself up to asking him to move back in with me but… I don’t think I have to now.”

Derek blinked, surprised. Stiles did seem more tired now, less stressed, but Derek didn’t think he’d done enough for his father to notice.

A warm feeling of pride burned in his belly, glad that he’d been able to help his pack like this.

“Come on, the kids are fine,” the Sheriff directed him back towards the house, “tell me all the updates for the new house of yours.”

Derek started talking about how the walls were finished, but now they needed to start electric and plumbing. He grinned when Scott and Malia joined in, and full on smiled when Stiles came up beside him, leaning into Derek’s space as he joined the conversation.

With Stiles at his side, and Matty laughing behind him, Derek felt more than just pack bonds thrumming through his veins. It felt like he’s surrounded by family.

–

On the Friday before Christmas break, Derek decided that a nice treat for Matty on her last day of school would be breakfast for dinner. Derek had everything set out by 5 o’clock, when Stiles and Matty usually come home Friday afternoons, but he was waiting for Matty to start.

He knew, from experience, that half the reason Matty loves waffles was because she liked squishing them down in the waffle iron.

Ten minutes after 5 Derek started to get worried though, and twenty minutes after that, Derek started to question if it would be too much if he went out searching for them… Beacon Hills was safe now, so they said. It was probably just a flat tire or something.

Not that Stiles knew how to fix a flat tire.

Worried, Derek moved to grab his keys and track the two down when he heard the Jeep pull into the driveway.

He would have been relieved if he hadn’t heard the shouting just a second later.

“You always take her side!” Matty screamed, her voice getting closer to the door. Derek only had a second to back away from it before it slammed open, and Matty barreled inside.

Stiles was right on her heels, “she doesn’t do these things to hurt you on purpose, Matty.”

“It’s Christmas! If Mommy loved me at all, she would be here with me on Christmas!” Matty stomped her feet and threw her backpack on the ground. Derek winced.

Stiles sighed, “Matilda, Mommy loves you, you know that. She’ll be here the day right after Christmas, and you can-”

“No she doesn’t! She hates me! That’s why she’s never here!”

“Your mom doesn’t hate you! She helped us get this house, remember? She bought you all your favorite clothes! She brought you on that trip to Greece last summer? She just can’t-”

“Stop it! Stop- stop!” Matty stomped her foot again and Stiles shut his mouth, his shoulders sagging. “You keep saying everythings okay, and- and she loves me, but all she ever does is give me things and leave! And I- I hate her! And I hate you for taking her side!”

Matty turned and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. Stiles rushed to follow, “Matty, come on, open the door.”

Matty did not open the door. Stiles knocked on it, “Matilda Claudia Stilinski, open the door!”

“No!”

With that word, it was like all the strings holding Stiles up were cut. He hung his head, and then slowly backed away from Matty’s door until he collapsed onto the couch. There, he buried his face in his hands.

Derek stood by and watched all of this, fidgeting nervously when the scent of salty tears hit the air. He stepped forward when Stiles sucked in a watery breath.

“Hey,” he said, as softly as he could. It didn’t matter though, Stiles still jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Jesus, Derek, have you been here this whole time?” Stiles wiped his face, embarrassment quickly overpowering the scent of sadness. “Fu- fudge. Sorry you had to see that.”

“I, uh, I was going to make waffles for dinner,” Derek pointed lamely behind him, “because Matty likes using the waffle iron, so…”

“Yeah.” Stiles wiped his face again, but the tears weren’t stopping.

Derek had no idea what he was doing, “I didn’t know she had a lock on her door,” he found himself saying.

“She doesn’t, I just don’t go in there when I know she wants her space.”

“Oh.” Of course. Because Stiles was a great dad.

Derek didn’t know how to tell him that though…

He fidgeted foot to foot. God, he was bad at this. Stiles buried his face in his hands again and was obviously trying to get his breathing under control. When a fresh scent of tears hit the air, Derek moved to sit beside him.

He placed a hand on Siles shoulder, squeezing gently. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Matty just.. Needs some time to cool off.”

“Yeah,” Stiles, remarkably, leaned into his touch. “But that’s just today, isn’t it? It’s not going to change the fact that her mother doesn’t live in California, constantly traveling for her fancy ass job. Or that her dad is a deadbeat cop who can barely afford groceries every month on top of all the bills, let alone school supplies. Or that both of her parents have no idea what the fuck they are doing because they accidently got pregnant when they were 18!”

Derek rubbed his hand down his back, “Stiles…”

“I know, okay, I know ‘it’s all going to be okay,’” Stiles sniffed. “It’s just that I’m the one who gave up my dreams, so that Lydia could follow hers. She was the genius, right? I had to, but I always thought,” he took in a steadying breath. “I thought she’d come back, you know? I didn’t think she would permanently leave the two of us here. I thought she would come back, if not for me, at least for Matty… but she didn’t.”

“You don’t deserve that,” Derek said gently, “neither of you do.”

Stiles let out a bitter laugh, “thanks, Der. But I… look, just for tonight, can we pretend I’m not the pathetic kid you feel bad for?”

Derek’s brow furrowed, “what?”

“I know I was the weak human when you left, I know you didn’t understand why I was even… involved in any of it, alright? I know that. And I get that you came back, and I was just like… even more pathetic than I was before. I’m just a weak, stupid, human who can’t even look after his own cub, and your wolfy instinct go into overdrive, right? I get it. You need to look after us, pack and all that, but can we just… pretend, for right now? That you’re just here to hang out? Please?”

Derek floundered, he had no idea Stiles thought any of that. He opened his mouth, but nothing comes out. Stiles gave him a tight smile, apparently taking that as Derek’s acceptance.

“I’m going to go shower before Matty comes out and sees me like this. If she comes out while I’m in there just.. Make waffles, or whatever.”

Stiles stood up and walked to the bathroom, his shoulders hunched the whole way. Derek watched him go, a frown stuck on his face.

–

Derek sat, confused, listening to the sound of Stiles too controlled breathing in the shower.

Stiles thought… Stiles really thought that he was the one not good enough for Derek? Stiles thought that Derek was only here to help, and not to spend time with them, because he thought Stiles was pathetic?

Derek, the person who had been homeless when they’d first seen each other again?

Derek wasn’t sure what to do with this.

A door clicked open, and Derek finally pulled his eyes away from the bathroom. Matty stood at the entrance of her room, her eyes puffy, and her pink sweater pulled down over her tiny, shaking, fists.

“Is Daddy mad at me?”

Derek shook his head instantly, “no. Not at all.”

Matty swallowed, and then she was running forward. Derek instinctively opened his arms, and a second later he had an arm full of third grader, Matty’s face squished against his chest.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“I know Daddy does everything for me, and- and he doesn’t have time to do anything else, and he gave up everything for me and- and - I just want him to be happy!”

“He is happy, Matty, your dad’s really happy here with you.”

“Are you sure?” Marry sniffed, “he doesn’t… he doesn’t always look happy, when he thinks I’m not looking.”

Derek felt his brows pinch, “your dad… has to deal with a lot. But that doesn’t mean he’s not happy with you. It just means… he’s tired sometimes.”

“I know,” Matty whispered, leaning back. “Daddy wished Mommy lived here too, even if he never says it. We both want to have two parents here, like everyone else in my class.” Matty sniffed again, “but Daddy never says that, he always defends her and- and he says we’re good just the two of us. Is it so bad to want to be like everyone else though? Even if it’s just for Christmas?”

Derek shook his head, his chest aching for the little girl. “No, Matty, it’s not bad at all,” he brushed her hair back, “it’s okay to want things to be different. That doesn’t make you bad.”

Matty nodded, her eyes getting watery again. “I wish you were my other Daddy.”

Derek’s eyes widened, “what?”

“Charlie McClair has two mommies, so why can’t I have two daddies?” She asked matter of factly. “I think if my mommy doesn’t want to come be a mommy with me all the time, I should be allowed to have two daddies. And Daddy would like that too. He smiles a lot, when you’re around. And he likes your cooking, he told me.”

“Yeah?” Derek’s voice came out barely more than a whisper, he had to clear his throat, his ears growing red. “You would… really want me to stay with you guys? All the time?”

Matty rolled her eyes, “of course, Derek! you’re here all the time anyway, and we haven’t told you to leave.”

Derek smiled, “I guess you’re right. I’ll just have to do something about this then, won’t I?”

Matty nodded, “yeah.”

Derek chuckled, and then stood up, carrying Matty with him to the kitchen. “I’ll try my best, okay? So we can all be happy.”

“Okay.”

“But for now, how do waffles sound?”

“Waffles?”

“Yep, I got the iron out and everything.”

Matty squirmed out of his grip, and Derek smiled as he watched her excitedly start to put the batter together, her tears forgotten.

Yeah, Derek had some work to do.

–

Derek had to wait a few days to start his plan, which was a good thing because it took him two whole days to make the plan…

Well, it took him two whole days to go to Malia and Kira for help with a plan, and only because Cora told him too, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was it was Christmas Eve, and his plan was working.

Most of the pack had their own individual family traditions, so Christmas Eve was left open and Christmas day was for the pack holiday. Matty was going to the Sheriff’s house that night, meeting with Melissa, Scott, and their family, and Stiles wouldn’t have to worry about bringing her along when Derek asked for his help with an emergency at the new house.

Stiles had replied with an emoji he didn’t understand, but he was on his way, and that was the important thing.

Malia and Kira had helped him string up lights and decorations, making the unfinished house look welcoming. Kira had lit a fire in the just recently finished fireplace, and Malia pulled chilled wine out of their car and set it up in the almost finished kitchen.

Derek, nervous, spent his time finding the perfect place to hang the plastic mistletoe.

He finally settled on the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

“He’s just dropped Matty off,” Kira said, looking at her phone, “we have to go.”

“Okay,” Derek took a steadying breath, “thank you for your help.”

He wrapped his arms around both of them this time as they circled him in a hug. He was getting used to these now.

“Stop smelling so nervous, he’s going to love it,” Malia said, giving him a gentle shove before the two of them joined hands and walked to their car.

He hoped she was right. He hoped Stiles didn’t laugh, look at him like he was crazy, and then tell him not to come near him or Matty ever again.

… he hoped Stiles didn’t find it weird that he’d already designed a room for a daughter that wasn’t technically his.

The sound of the Jeep pulled up outside of the house, and Derek took another breath. He could do this.

He told Matty he could do this.

He stepped outside as Stiles clambered out of his Jeep. “Wow, Derek, this place looks amazing!”

Derek grinned, proud that his mate liked their new home- before he shook that thought away. Jesus Christ, one step at a time.

“Thank you,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “come inside.”

He stepped out of the way, and watched as Stiles looked around at everything, his face open and happy.

As it should be.

“Jeeze, you even had garlands over the railings,” Stiles pointed at the stairs. Malia had told him to do that, Derek hadn’t known the name of them. He nodded anyway. “So, what’s the big emergency?”

Derek swallowed, right, here goes nothing. He pointed towards the kitchen, following right behind Stiles on the way. As he hoped, Stiles stopped at the sight of the wine on the counter.

Right under the mistletoe.

“You can’t, uh, open a bottle of wine?” Stiles asked, his cheeks already flushing pink. “I don’t know if I can help you with that, it’s not like I’m an expert-”

“I can open it,” Derek said, “but I need someone to share it with.”

Stiles looked at him then, his eyes wide and hopeful, and Derek felt his chest loosen. Everyone had been right, Stiles did want this. He was just scared. Derek could be the one brave enough to get them there.

He nodded up to the mistletoe.

Stiles followed his look, and then his cheeks grew even more red, the flush going all the way down his neck and under his shirt.

“I- sorry, you’re waiting for someone else? You wanted my approval or-or-” Stiles tried to back away, but Derek grabbed his arm, pulling him back as gently as he could.

“There is no one else, Stiles, you know that. It’s just you and me.”

“Derek…” Stiles looked at the wine, then back up at the mistletoe, and then away, “you don’t want this, not really. I have a daughter. My life is a mess. I’m- I - you can do so much better than-”

Derek silenced him with a kiss. Not a deep one, barely a kiss at all, just Derek’s lips against Stiles.

Soft, gentle.

He ran his thumb over Stiles cheekbone, smiling when Stiles didn’t do anything but gape at him when he pulled away.

“Stiles, you are the kindest, most generous, and bravest man I have ever known. I’ve never thought of you as weak, or pathetic. I’ve never thought you were a mess. Especially not for having a daughter, who you chose to look after, even when her own mother left.” He brought his other hand up to cup Stiles face, his eyes filling with tears. “You took in a man who had nothing, and you gave him something worth staying for. You gave me a reason to put roots down in Beacon Hills, not just build a house on top of it.”

Stiles blinked, and a few tears slipped out. Derek leaned forward, but he didn’t have to lean far. Stiles was already moving to meet him in the middle.

This kiss was sweeter, their mouths fitting together like they were made for each other. Derek felt Stiles arms curl around his back, and he leaned into it.

They pulled away before the kiss got any deeper, but Derek couldn’t wait until he could explore every inch of this man. He pushed his forehead against, Stiles, breathing the same air, but when Derek opened his eyes, he saw Stiles watching him back.

He leaned away, feeling sheepish about this next part.

“So, I know we’ve only just now…” Derek gestured between the two of them. “But I know you feel uncomfortable in your own house, and I’ve built this place big enough for all three of us. I thought Matty could have the room down here, by the living room, and ours could be the one upstairs. And if- if we’re ever in need of more rooms, I could really easily add on-”

Derek stopped talking when Stiles kissed him again. When they pulled away this time, Stiles eyes were sparkling.

“I think we might need some time to get to that point but… yes, one million times yes to all of this. You’re amazing, Derek. I really can’t-”

Derek kissed him again, because Stiles had said yes, and he didn’t think he would ever get tired of kissing the man.

They ended up on the couch, Derek’s body draped over Stiles, sharing slow kisses and soft touches.

–

Christmas morning, Derek and Stiles tried to hide their new relationship, but Matty was too clever for them. She took one look at them sitting beside each other on the couch before she screamed with glee and jumped in the middle of them.

“My Christmas wish came true!” She shouted, “I have two Daddies!”

“Well, I don’t know about that just yet…” Stiles tried, but Matty was yelling again, and Derek was laughing along with her. It didn’t matter to him when Matty called him, as long as she knew that he cared.

Christmas morning was spent just the three of them, opening presents and eating sweets for breakfast. The afternoon was spent at the Sheriff’s house, where they all climbed into a family photo, and the Sheriff clapped Derek on the back and told him he was proud to have a new son in law.

Christmas dinner was at Malia, Kira and Scott’s. By this point, everyone knew about the two of them, and they didn’t feel like they needed to hide.

They spend most of the night curled up together beside the fire, as everyone enjoyed the holiday around them. The pack bonds warm in Derek’s veins, and Stiles warm in his arms.

Matty, happily telling everyone about her new two Daddies, filling their ears and making them laugh.

[talatomaz]

legends of yesterday | team flash x fem!reader | part viii

a/n: i had the biggest writer’s block with this episode which is why it’s not as detailed as the others. this takes place around season 2 episode 8 and this story is mostly canon with a few things changed

warnings: mentions of blood

word count: 1.6k

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(Read Healed Scars before reading the rest of this story since it actually fits in so well with the end of part 7)

You jumped out of the SUV alongside Caitlin and Laurel and grabbed your bags from the trunk.

“Remind me what was wrong with S.T.A.R Labs again?” You asked, slamming the trunk door closed.

“Well, I mean, absolutely nothing, if you forget about the revolving door you guys installed so the bad guys could come and go as they please.”

Oliver said, mocking your lack of security which you were about to protest against but Caitlin beat you to it.

“Remind me again what happened to your old lair? Or the one before that?” Caitlin said sarcastically, making you and Laurel smirk.

“Well, lair number one was compromised by the police, and I will stop helping.” Felicity added when she saw all of you looking at her.

You all walked into the old farmhouse when Barry and Cisco entered with the equipment and the latter began complaining about the lack of data and service.

After discussing what Oliver so aptly named Savage’s ‘magic stick thing’, you all decided to divide and conquer.

Felicity, Cisco and Caitlin were going to work on a gauntlet that would allow you to touch the staff.

Diggle said he’d check if ARGUS had any information on Savage whilst you, Laurel and Thea checked police records to try and get a location on Savage.

“Is this even gonna work?”

Thea asked as the three of you walked into the relatively empty police station.

“Yeah, of course. I’m a detective and Laurel’s an ADA, so us working together on a case is plausible.”

“No, I meant all of our plans. Savage is some supposed time-travelling dude who’s been around for thousands of years and he now has even more magic. How are we gonna beat him?”

Thea worried but Laurel reassured her.

“We will, Speedy. We’re all working together on this so he doesn’t stand a chance.”

You all approached the desk, “Hi, I’m Detective Davis, this is ADA Lance and Miss Queen, we were wondering if we could have a look at some files.”

“Can I take your badge number, please, Detective Davis?”

“Of course.”

You rattled off your badge number and once she confirmed your identity, she allowed the three of you access to their file room.

Every file from the 1990s had since been digitalised so it meant that you, Laurel and Thea had to do some grunt work and search through a whole lot of paper files and it was a few hours into that that you found your first solid lead.

“Guys, I think I found something,”

Thea shouted from the other side of the room so you and Laurel joined her.

“It says that there was some sort of conspiracy group who were really interested in a guy who matches Savage’s description.” Thea explained as she showed you the file.

You leaned over her shoulder and read the rest, “Wait, it says here that there’s another file. Give me a minute.”

You said, climbing the ladder and using your powers to rummage through the dusty boxes.

“Got it,” you said, jumping down from the top rung of the ladder.

You blew the dust off the folder, “Shit, this talks about the Pentagon.”

“We gotta call John.”

Laurel said, putting the file in her bag whilst you and Thea put the boxes of files away.

After leaving the station, the three of you got back in the car and were on your way to meet John and Lyla outside of ARGUS HQ and you were a bit nervous to be honest.

“You good, y/n?” Laurel asked, as she drove.

“Yeah, just haven’t been this close to ARGUS since…”

You trailed off but both Thea and Laurel understood.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You can always stay in the car while we talk to Dig-”

Thea suggested but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine. It just brings up some sore memories but I’m sure I’ll be okay. Thanks for asking though, Thea.”

“Seriously though, y/n, we’re here for you if you need it.”

Laurel said, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

***

“What do you guys have?”

Felicity asked when you, Laurel, John and Thea walked into the farmhouse. Laurel handed the tape to Felicity.

“Beta Max. Aww, what, did you guys get this off of eBay?” She said sarcastically.

“Lyla hooked us up.”

You had finally met Lyla and after an in-depth conversation with the former, your thoughts about ARGUS were confirmed.

There definitely were people who wouldn’t agree with what ARGUS would become like in the future.

Lyla being one of them.

“The tape came from a conspiracy theory group that's interested in Savage.” Laurel explained.

“Pentagon had a file on Savage back in '86, but it's all been heavily redacted.” You continued as Felicity managed to get the tape playing.

You all watched as a Dr. Boardman theorised that Savage was an immortal who, if not stopped, could destroy the world.

He then went on to propose that the only thing that might stop him is an object, any object which was present at the ‘calamity’ that gave Savage his immortality.

When Oliver and Barry arrived a little while later, you filled them in on the tape and what you had found and Oliver began to devise a plan.

“We're going to put Kendra and Carter up against Savage; you guys attack with the element of surprise. Y/n and I will lay down the cover fire. Barry, you speed in, and-”

“Snatch the staff, I got it.” Barry finished as Oliver nodded in agreement.

“Where do you need us?” Diggle asked but Oliver shook his head,

“This is me, Barry, y/n, Kendra and Carter.”

Thea tried to protest but Oliver remained adamant and told you all to suit up.

***

“It’s wonderful to see you again, my love.”

The five of you were now standing face-to-face with Vandal Savage in some abandoned warehouse.

“I will never be your love.” Kendra spat out.

“I know. This always makes this easier.” Savage replied as he took a knife out of his holster.

He walked threateningly closer towards Kendra, “Chay-Ara. Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

He raised the knife to stab her but before he could, Oliver grabbed his arm and stopped him, causing a full blown-out fight between all of you and Savage.

You used powers to try and draw the Staff of Horus to you but Savage used it to blast you and Barry to the ground.

Oliver was able to disarm Savage but Kendra was unable to “grow her wings” as it were.

And whilst you were able to quickly recover, Barry still seemed affected by the blast.

You saw Savage get the upper hand on Oliver so you used your powers to pull Oliver towards you and away from Savage’s assault but Savage then threw two knives into Carter, shocking you all.

Then he threw one towards you that got lodged in your arm and you winced in pain, blood coating your hands.

Before you fell unconscious from the loss of blood, you saw Savage murder Kendra and Barry fail to try and use the Staff of Horus to attack Savage.

You blacked out as the energy from the Staff created an explosion.

***

“Seriously though, y/n, we’re here for you if you need it.” Laurel said, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“Thanks, Laurel.”

You paused and furrowed your brows.

Woah, major deja vu.

“Y/n? What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just had the biggest feeling of deja vu.” You shook your head, almost trying to physically get rid of your thoughts.

After meeting with Lyla, you all went back to the farmhouse and played the tape and when Barry and Oliver returned, you explained the situation to them.

You paused again when you finished explaining the tape to them, “What is with this deja vu?”

You murmured to yourself but when you looked up, you caught a knowing glance between Oliver and Barry.

Your eyes widened with realisation.

Oh, Barry, you didn’t.

“Barry, can I speak with you for a moment?”

You both went into the other room where you confronted him and he confessed to travelling back in time.

“He killed Kendra and Carter. You were unconscious from blood loss and then you and Oliver both died in the explosion. I couldn’t just let that happen.”

Barry whispered harshly, trying to make sure no one else could hear the two of you.

“Fine. So what do we do differently?” You conceded.

You were all suited up and ready to fight Vandal Savage at the abandoned warehouse where you had previously died.

At the moment, it was just you, Barry, Oliver, Kendra and Carter but after the latter grew their wings, the rest of Team Arrow joined you in fighting Savage.

You, Laurel and Kendra kept Savage’s attention on you three whilst Barry and Oliver worked the Staff and were able to effectively turn Savage into a pile of dust.

After defeating Savage, you all breathed a sigh of relief and Kendra revealed that she and Carter were going to move on with their lives, away from Central City.

She expressed her thanks to you all and said goodbye before leaving to do the same with Cisco.

When you and the rest of Team Flash said your goodbyes to Team Arrow and returned to S.T.A.R Labs, you pulled Barry to the side.

“Do we tell them?”

He shook his head,

“No, let’s just keep this between us.”

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[feverwritingandtextposts]

Summary:

All the cool monsters make it to the front page of City S Newspaper. And Garou's going to join them, even if he has to kidnap a reporter to do it.

Look man I saw this funny AU post and i HAD to write this i was possessed. 

As usual you can follow the link to read it or read it under the cut below. 

"And so that's why i skipped the math class in my 7th grade- hey. Hey. Are you listening?"

Badd turned his head up to the voice, groggy and tired. He gave a non-committal grunt in response. The man clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Hm. You're not writing anything down so-"

Badd raised an eyebrow at that, glaring down the man in front of him. Tall, imposing, with the most hideous hairstyle Badd's ever seen, the man loomed overhead, paused in his pacing to stare down at him.

"How the fuck am i supposed to write anything when my FUCKING HANDS ARE TIED?" Badd bellowed, fully sick and tired of this nonsense.

Personally, Badd had no clue why this bastard chose to kidnap him out of all the reporters out there. He's just self aware enough to know that he's not exactly the easiest person to get along with in general. If this dude really wanted the world to 'understand his monster aesthetic and goals through the newspaper' he'd probably get better cooperation from some mousy bumbling reporter that he can, actually, successfully intimidate.

Maybe Badd looked like an easy target because he'd been passed out after drinking with a interviewee. In his defense, the office promised to pay, and Badd was never one to turn down some day drinking.

Damn, what even happened to that guy... Did this fucker kill him when Badd got kidnapped?

The man, Garou or Gatou or Geko something like that, narrowed his eyes at him. It looked like he'd wanted to seem contemptuous and intimidating, but Badd thought it made him just look pouty, like an ill tempered child.

That dude's probably fine.

"You could've just said so then," the man snapped, reaching over.

Badd jerked back from him, the movement teethering him dangerously on the flimsy chair he was tied against.

"Ey ey, hands off bastard. This coat's Gucci and i dunno where your damn hands have been," Badd hissed.

Clearly offended, the man drew back, lips pulling back to show a sharp array of teeth. "I wash my hands you little shit."

"That's what all the crooks say."

The man looked stunned for a moment, face still stuck in that half angry half incredulous grimace, as if shocked that Badd was just being so deliberately uncooperative, when he'd gone to all this trouble of holding him hostage. Held aloft in front of him, the man's hands balled up into fists.

Briefly, Badd wondered if he was finally going to get punched.

Badd was kinda looking forward to it. Its been a while since he got punched anyway.

But instead, the man seemed to reign himself in, folding his arms and drawing up to his fullest height, lips drawn in a sneer.

"Your coat's ugly anyway. Gucci? You wasted your money on that crap."

Wow really? He's really gonna get his fashion sense roasted by a man in ratty joggers and old people slippers.

"Fuck you," Badd snarled venomously.

Gatou (no Gakou.. Garou?) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned.

"Are you mad? Over that?"

Badd struggled against his bindings, the chair screeching against the concrete as he moved.

"Seriously?"asked the man. "You weren't even that mad when you woke up tied to the chair."

Badd paused in his attempts to rip off the thick ropes to shoot the man a scathing look.

"Like hell I'm gonna listen to you insult MY coat when you're in those disgusting pants."

Now looking absolutely confused, the taller man looked down at his faded grey joggers.

"What's wrong with my pants? They're great for movement and kicking." As if to demonstrate that point, or intimidate Badd, he started kicking the air, each kick higher than before, the shock-wave blowing wind and dust into Badd's face.

Man, Badd hated guys like him. Just because they're hot they think they can care fuck all about fashion and still look good.

In this guy's case he'd be right but Badd's never gonna admit that.

Badd was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his ugly pants before the man slammed his foot down, loud and annoying.

"Wait, forget that, I still need you to continue writing that article. Where did I stop?"

Damnit, Badd was hoping he'd have forgotten that by now.

The man propped his chin against his fist, deep in thought.

Maybe if Badd was lucky he'd realise he'd told Badd every fucking insignificant detail about his (admittedly kinda sad) life story and let him go.

The man slammed his fist into his open palm in realisation. "I can't remember, so lets just take it from the start again!"

This man was going to give him a fucking aneurysm.

"What the HELL man! C'mon dude lay off it," Badd whined, writhing on the chair in annoyance.

"Maybe I'll be done faster if your sorry ass doesn't keep INTERRUPTING me," Garou snarled back, resuming his pacing as he prepared to re-recount his shitty life story.

The afternoon light that streamed through the high broken windows was starting to dim, casting long shadows across the abandoned warehouse they were in. The day was beginning to end. Zenko's going to be out of cram school soon, and she'd be waiting for him to pick her up.

It was starting to get colder too, Badd could see the puffs of air coming from his breath. Did Zenko bring her scarf?

"Hey man aren't you done yet? I gotta go soon, I need to pick my lil sis up," Badd called out to the slouching man, who had skulked a way off ahead, ranting about why elementary school kids have the propensity for cruelty.

Pausing in his tirade, he stalked back over.

"Fuck are you talking about? You're literally tied to a chair."

"Yeah I KNOW. That's why I'm asking if you're done, I need to go pick my sis up."

Shaggy white hair bouncing, Garou shook his head firmly. "What, no you can't just leave. I KIDNAPPED you."

"Yeah, I noticed. And how long are you gonna keep me here then? The fucking sun's already going down."

"Its only been three and a half hours," protested Garou, his thin face settling into its permanent scowl. "How are you going to write a good article about me if you don't know my entire backstory?"

Badd groaned loudly, head tilting back in exasperation. In front of him, the man didn't move, sharp golden eyes boring into Badd.

"If you be a good boy and listen, this will go by a lot faster, and you can be out to write that article and pick up your sister or whatever. Or, I could keep you here with me for much MUCH longer."

"Ugh..." Badd rolled his eyes at the obvious warning to behave. Really, did he LOOK like the type to just buckle down and keep quiet? After realising that Garou was still standing there, eyes alert and anticipating a response, he gave a resigned sigh.

"ALRIGHT, fucking hell, FINE," snapped Badd, a little too loudly, but the bastard smiled at that, lips pulling into a smarmy smirk that would have been ridiculously hot if Badd wasn't so ready punch him.

He really hoped Zenko brought her scarf. This was gonna take a while.

Luckily for the both of them, Badd was an expert in the sacred art of pretending to pay attention. Eyes glassy, he watched the man pace up and down, ever so often making a grunt or hum of agreement to whatever was being said.

Those pants Garou was wearing really DO look great for movement. They clung perfectly to that tight ass. Speaking of, now that Badd really got a look at him, this guy was toned to hell. He mentioned being 'the world's best martial artist' or something, but damn. That turtleneck he was wearing looked like it was on its last breath of life clinging to those muscles. Dude's lucky he's nice to look at because Badd'll be bored to death otherwise.

Night had fully fallen by the time the white haired man decided to pause for breath.

Badd hasn't been in the reporting biz long enough to be considered an expert, but he doubts that he really needed THAT much info from the guy to write an article on him. Usually, articles about villains are pretty short anyway.

Stuff like "Wanted: this bastard! Contact the Association if you have information" or "See this man? Better mind your own business and find somewhere to hide!". Short, sweet, to the point. Just what criminal warning articles are supposed to be. Where the hell was his supposed to insert the entire part about this loser getting beat up in elementary school? Badd's not a damn literary expert. He only got the job because of how hardy he was, and how dangerous journalist jobs can end up.

Maybe he can ask one of the interns to help him write it...

"Do you have all of that?" asked Garou (Badd's sure now, the fucker talked about himself as 'Garou the Human Monster' at least 11 times).

Badd nodded quickly, hoping to god that he was done talking about himself. Garou, perhaps having believed Badd's performance, perhaps simply needing a space to talk about... all that... seemed absurdly happy.

"Okay! You better write a good article!" Garou ordered, exuberant smile lighting up his usually swarthy face, making it look kinder and sweeter. Like how he might have been if he hadn't been weighed down by all that spite.

Huh, Badd thought, he was actually kinda cute.

"Right, don't move."

Never mind, scratch that.

Badd last remembers a throbbing pain on the back of his neck, as if someone had smacked him, and wakes up alone at a bus stop.

"Human Monster Gatou on the loose," read out Taero, swinging his legs on the park bench. Beside him, the white haired man peeled an eye open from where he sat slouched back on the bench, head propped up on the back.

"Whazzat? Kid, you're old enough to read properly right? Pronounce people's names right."

"Huh, but Uncle, that's what it says." Reaching over, Taero pushes the newspaper right into Garou's face for him to read it himself.

Golden eyes scanning the headline, Taero barely had time to sit back down before Garou shot up from the bench, snatching the newspaper out of his hand in the process. Wordlessly Garou stood there, newspaper crumpled in his grip, eyes boring into the page.

Taero knew that this Uncle was pretty prone to sudden and confusing mood shifts, but even for him this was kinda weird.

"It's pretty scary isn't Uncle? We should be careful," Taero says tentatively, peering at him from the safety of the bench.

"That's right. Real scary," muttered Garou, face absolutely murderous.

He can't believe that fucking reporter spelled his name wrong.

He's gonna kill him.