#forcing us to keep our cameras on and to name our files in a weird way that works for her and like…ugh. i hate this class and i hate that i

[neopuff]

title: friendly word count: ~2400 characters: rex, white, holiday summary: Rex was still getting used to the new dynamic of their little team. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47694358

Rex liked exploring the Dam Base. He liked it a lot better than he ever liked the halls of Providence - there were no grunts at the dam treating him like a nuisance and White Knight didn’t have security cameras stalking every corner of every room.

(Rex had noticed some security cameras, just not as many as there used to be. Probably because they didn’t have the seemingly unlimited money that Providence did.)

Everything was different from how it was when he left, really. Six felt more like his old self than ever, Knight was walking around and occasionally chatty, Holiday kept leaving for days at a time without giving much detail, and Bobo was…well. Bobo was the same, at least. Rex appreciated the consistency of his friend, even if sometimes he’d get on his nerves.

Thinking about people who got on his nerves, Rex poked his head around a corner to find White Knight sitting at a desk and scrolling through some kind of tablet. It looked like he was frustrated - organizing files or something.

“Hey, Knight.”

He didn’t look up at the voice calling his name, just continued what he was working on. “What do you need, Rex?”

Ah, always so friendly. Rex came around and sat in one of the other chairs, leaning onto the table and staring up through the weird helmet of White’s suit. “What’re you looking at?”

“Our budget for the next month.”

“Oh.” Rex thought it would be something more interesting than that. He supposed that it made sense for someone to take care of it. “Are we broke or something?”

White shook his head. “Not yet.” He paused for a second and then shrugged. “Well, Holiday’s broke. But that’s thanks to her stunt with her sister last year.”

Rex frowned at the memory. He knew she’d given a lot of money to Dr. Moses, but she never let him know how much. It sounded like it was probably more money than he’d ever seen in his entire life. “Should I…like, get a job or something?”

“No,” he answered with an eye roll. “Six and Holiday have been taking odd jobs to keep us afloat. We managed just fine before you got here, we’ll manage just fine still.”

“What about you? No grunt work for the White Knight?”

“I’m dead, in case you forgot,” Knight responded with a glare. “Can’t exactly go showing my face around town.”

“Right, no. That makes sense.”

They fell silent and Rex was acutely aware of the growing awkwardness in the room. He wasn’t used to casually chatting with the man who’d been a big part of making his last few years miserable. It was still a weird situation, though it was nice to know he could trust him. That didn’t used to be the case.

He could trust him more than Caesar, anyway.

A noise came from the hallway and Rex turned to see Dr. Holiday walk by, her eyes focused on a small clipboard in her hands. She didn’t even acknowledge the two of them, which Rex was starting to get used to. Holiday was always singularly focused nowadays, as if she had a million things on her mind and was trying to sort through each of them one by one.

“How’d you find this place, anyway?” Rex asked casually.

“Six and I cashed in some old favors.” White was still moving files around while he answered, not really sure why the kid was forcing him to chat. He didn’t like small talk and he didn’t like incessant questions.

“Ooh, like from when you were mercenaries?”

Knight paused at that and looked up at Rex, scowling slightly. “...yes. From when we were mercenaries.”

“I’ll bet Holiday hated that,” Rex suggested with a chuckle.

White took a moment to consider his words, then turned back to his tablet. “She was too preoccupied to care. After we convinced her to steal equipment from Providence, there wasn’t a lot of discussion about things like that.”

“Oh.” Rex couldn’t imagine Holiday stealing, but she’d never liked Providence much. Or at all. But a lot of that had to do with White Knight himself, from what he could tell. “Y’know, it’s weird to see you and her getting along.”

Knight shuffled in his seat and opened up a new program on the tablet, clearly moving onto a new task. He was used to multitasking like this with Six or Holiday, but not so much with Rex. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s almost like you guys are friends now.”

White smirked - the tiniest little smirk that would’ve been missed if Rex wasn’t staring at his face - and shrugged. “I wouldn’t say friends. Friendly, maybe.”

“Still. It’s a big difference from a year ago.”

“Yes, well…” He tilted his head to the side, considering the most pragmatic way to talk about this. “Neither of us really had a choice in the matter. We either get along or we choose to work for Black Knight.”

Rex shivered, the memories of his recent experience at Providence still haunting him. “I guess it’s like we’re a big, happy family now, huh?”

White looked up and glared at Rex, too annoyed to hold back anymore. “Do you have anywhere else you can be? I have work to do.”

He stood up, hands raised in mock-surrender. “Okay, okay, sorry! I thought we were having a moment.” Rex shrugged and backed out towards the door. “I’ll leave you to your very boring accounting work.”

His only response was another eye roll and a grunt as White went back to his work.

Rex didn’t understand how much pressure he was under. The favor he’d called in to get access to their Dam Base was not a favor he’d ever intended to use. Six had even suggested they try to find another option, but they needed the space and the location was optimal.

He also didn’t enjoy the drain in his savings accounts, but Holiday and Six could only help so much. And occasionally the monkey would chip in, though he could never cover more than his own food expenses. White had more savings than anyone since he’d spent the last three and a half years sitting in a box and spending his salary on nothing but nanite-neutralizing magnets and fresh milk, but it didn’t mean he wanted to lose it all in less than a year.

Knight sighed and continued moving things around. Maybe he’d have to cut back on milk.

X

Rex wandered around the base for another few minutes until he came across Dr. Holiday in what they were referring to as her lab. It was very different from her old lab and didn’t have anywhere near the same amount of stuff, but it definitely looked…science-y.

She was hunched over her desk and was leaning her forehead onto her right hand, massaging gently. It looked like she had a majorly bad headache.

“Doc? Are you okay?” Rex asked as he stepped further into the room.

Her head shot up immediately and she turned around to give him a smile. “Hey, Rex. I’m fine, just…tired. No big deal.”

Rex frowned and leaned against the desk next to her, wishing he could do something. “Can I help with anything? Or…I could get Six if you want, or-”

“Nope, nope,” Holiday interrupted, suspiciously awkward when Rex brought up their favorite agent in green. “Nothing you can do, I’ll just go to sleep early tonight.”

He lifted himself up and sat on her desk, leaning onto his thighs and staring down at her face. He wasn’t going to push the issue of Six, but he’d pack it away in his brain for another time. “If you say so. I’m still getting used to how everything works around here.”

She smiled sadly and turned back towards her computer, typing something so quickly that Rex couldn’t read it fast enough. “Don’t rush yourself. It’s been months and I still wake up thinking I’m at Providence sometimes.”

Rex swung his legs back and forth, thinking back to his talk with White Knight just a few minutes earlier. He wondered how she felt about working so closely with someone she’d spent the last three years regularly complaining about. “So is Knight still our boss?”

“It’s complicated,” she answered as diplomatically as possible. “He doesn’t pay us. There’s no rank and he can’t fire anyone. But…” Holiday looked around the room, admiring how big a space they were sitting in. “...we wouldn’t have this base if not for him. So try not to make jokes at his expense just to piss him off, alright?”

He smirked at that, thinking back to all the stupid things he used to say to White just because he knew he was irreplaceable. He was still one-of-a-kind, sure, but didn’t feel the same urge to call him fat or lazy. Especially not after seeing the man in action a few times. “Would you say you’re friends now?”

“Hm?” She stared at him, distracted by the emphasis of his question.

“You and White Knight.”

Holiday let out a short, rough, “Ha!” and started cradling her head again, like that headache from before had come back. The reaction was meaner than she intended, but the concept of being friends with White really caught her off guard. “No, Rex. Absolutely not.”

Rex didn’t expect her answer to be so negative, especially when White seemed almost happy about the possibility. “You seem to get along pretty well now.”

“That doesn’t make us friends,” she said simply. Holiday swiveled around in her chair so she could face him directly. “Look, Rex. I would’ve allied with anyone if they’d help me find you. It wasn’t about who I wanted to spend time with. I just wanted to get you home...even if it’s not the home you’re used to.”

A year ago, Rex would’ve blushed at her confession and tried to get a kiss on the cheek. Now he was just happy to have someone like Holiday in his life. “...thanks, Doc. Anywhere with you and Six is my home, y’know?”

She smiled at him and held back an eye roll and a comment about how cheesy that was to say. “It does help that Six and White are friends again,” she added, though there was a light bitterness to her voice that didn’t go unnoticed. “Makes it easier for me to stay in the loop.”

“Ahh, yeah, that makes sense.” Rex tilted his head to the side and held up a pointer finger. “Girlfriends always kind of hate their boyfriend’s friends, but they still hang out with them ‘cause they can keep an eye on them that way.”

Holiday frowned. “Rex.”

“What?” he asked genuinely, not sure what he said wrong. It hit him after a second and he let out a quiet “oh.” “Is that, uh…not a thing?”

“It’s not.” She wasn’t going to give him the play-by-play of how things had or hadn’t developed in the last six months, but Holiday made it clear that she didn’t have any interest in discussing it.

He suddenly felt awkward, having initially brought up their relationship as a joke. But Holiday’s expression told him that they were not at a stage where anything about it was funny. That was probably why she didn’t want to talk about him earlier. But she couldn’t avoid the subject forever. “He reminds me of the old Six a lot. Y’know, before he lost his memories.”

“Yeah. Sometimes.” Holiday turned back to her computer again, sounding melancholy. He was very similar to the old Six in a lot of ways, but there were still small pieces that she missed. Mostly she missed being able to comfortably talk to him about anything without fear that Knight would end up hearing about it. The Six she’d worked with for years understood the bad blood between her and White. The new Six…didn’t. And she understood why. He trusted Knight more than her, he knew him better and knew him longer. But it didn’t hurt any less.

Rex felt a little awkward suddenly, having expected her to continue talking but instead he was met with silence. The adults in his life had gotten so used to not having a teenager around that he often felt like he was annoying them when he started asking questions. But how could he not? Six months was a long time to miss and he wanted to catch up on everything.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked again, knowing exactly what her answer would be.

Holiday gave him another small smile. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go train with Six? I’ve got a lot of work to do here.”

Catching the hint, Rex hopped off her desk and stretched his arms as he stood. “Good idea. I need to make sure he hasn’t gotten too lazy while I’ve been gone.”

She chuckled a bit and Rex smiled - happy that he’d gotten a positive reaction out of her. She smiled at him plenty when they talked, but they didn’t feel as genuine as they used to be. It felt like she was always holding something back and he didn’t know if he was being paranoid or if there was really something there.

“I’ll talk to you later, Doc. And don’t forget to go to sleep early!” Rex said as he headed out the door. “I’m gonna tell Six to make sure you don’t stay up all night.”

Holiday shook her head and gave him a wave, still staring at her computer screen. It was nice to have Rex around, but she’d gotten used to day after day of relative silence. If not for Six forcing her to eat, she’d had several occasions where she could’ve gone over a week without talking to another person. Working completely alone was weighing on her quite a bit and she knew that, but there wasn’t any other choice.

A lot of what was going on in her life at that moment was simply because there were no other options. She had to play nice with White. She had to hold her tongue while her only real friend avoided spending time with her. And she had to work. Constantly.

She sighed and put her hands down, annoyed that Rex had ruined her focus. She wondered if it’d be safe to give Beverly a call.

[pepprs]

this class sucks this prof sucks

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Psychological Warfare  (A continuation of Super Soldiers)

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord ) (For those interested in learning about the events leading up to this please read the previous short story for this here: https://niqhtlord01.tumblr.com/post/188251556966/humans-are-weird-super-soldiers )

“This is enforcement team three, responding to request for assistance at broadcast building nine.”

The enforcer car sped through the well-lit streets like a blade of grass dancing in the wind; swerving between other vehicles and pedestrians almost as if it was liquid curving around a hard surface. The lights from virtual billboards lining the streets each casting another shade of color as enforcer Gavrin hung up his transponder as he rounded another corner and avoided a headlong collision with pedestrians.

“Will you slow down!?”

Gavrin was too focused on the road to respond to his partner’s pleas as they continued to speed towards broadcast building nine.

Jimble had his three hands pressed against the roof of the enforcer car for stability and shot another scornful glare at Gavrin.

“What the flartack has gotten into you, Gavrin?” Jimble said as they hit a speed bump and lurched through the air for a few moments before crashing down to the hard road again. “You’re going to get us both killed!”

“What was the request for assistance?” Gavrin calmly said as he continued weaving through the traffic. Jimble let go of the roof with one of his hands and scratched his head.

“The report said intruders had forced their way into the building.”

Gavrin nodded. “Something that big is going to be noticed by a lot of people, and I want them to know that I was there first.”

“If you were any more of a glory hound you’d be wearing a collar.” Jimble replied. He looked down at the navigation screen showing the layout of the city. “It should be just around this next corner on the right.”

As the enforcer car swung around the sharp corner Gavrin’s eyes went wide and he slammed on the stabilizer brakes. The car screeched and nearly flipped over as the momentum was suddenly killed before Gavrin grabbed Jimble and pulled him over to his side of the interior. The combined weight brought the car back down to the road before coming to a complete standstill.

Jimble lifted himself up slowly trying to regain his senses while Gavrin popped open the side door and stormed off. “No, no; I’m fine.” Jimble groaned as he blinked his eyes several times to clear them up. As he got a good look at his partner in front of the car he gasped.

Surrounding the entire street level entrance to broadcast building nine were several dozen military transports. Jimble looked to either side of the street and saw soldiers lining either side all with their weapons trained on the broadcast building.

“What the flartack is going on?”

As Jimble got out of the car he could see his partner arguing with two soldiers that had stepped forward and barred him from passing.    

“Like flar I will!” Jimble heard his partner shout into the face of the nearest soldier.

“This area is restricted.” The same soldier continued as two additional soldiers broke away from covering the building to stand on either side of Gavrin. “Move along.”

Before Gavrin could let out another outburst Jimble stepped in.

“We are responding to a request from assistance filed from this broadcast building five chrono ticks ago.” Jimble said as he glanced between the visored helmets of the soldiers. Gavrin looked like he was about to shove his way passed the soldiers until Jimble put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He grunted for a moment before Jimble felt his partners muscles relax before Gavrin shook off his hand and went back to the enforcer car.

“And if I’m not mistaken,” Jimble said as he addressed the original soldier his partner had been shouting at “the military does not have jurisdiction outside of military installations and star ports; making this a de-facto enforcer matter.”

“This incident has been reviewed by city officials and was determined to fall under military jurisdiction.” a new voice cut in.

Both enforcers turned to see a sharply dressed military officer approach the group. With a wave of her hand the soldiers dispersed back to their positions leaving them alone.

“Since when?!” Gavrin nearly shouted as he smacked his hands against the hood of enforcer car.

“Since several highly ranked prisoners of war escaped a military base five days ago.” She turned and looked at the broadcast building and for a moment Gavrin could see what almost looked like fear cross her face.

“Why weren’t the enforcers informed of fugitives on the loose?” Gavrin pressed. “We could have found them far faster than you lot.”

“They are not normal fugitives.” was all she said before quickly raising a hand to her ear. She nodded a few times to herself before casting a look around the entire street.

She opened her mouth as if to give an order when an ear shattering static cut through not only her radio but Jimble and Gavrin’s radios as well.

“Good evening, fine citizens of Tivin.”

Jimble looked up to see the virtual ad long that had been for clothing change to static before displaying a new feed. It showed the interior of what appeared to be a broadcast room. There was a broadcast desk, a virtual backdrop of Tivin, and even the stations logo on the front. Yet behind the desk was someone Jimble had never expected to see.

A human…..

The human wore a makeshift cloak across his shoulders along with a bandana over his forehead keeping the strands of black hair out of his eyes.

“Cut the line!” Jimble and Gavrin tore their gaze away from the screen to see the officer shouting into her communicator. Whatever the response was it appeared to displease her as she turned to her waiting forces and shouted “Get in there now!”

The waiting squads of soldiers surged forwards, blowing the doors off the front entrance and rushing inside without a moment’s hesitation.

“My name is Joseph Maker,” the human continued drawing the attention of the trip remaining in the street, “and as you’ve no doubt noticed I’m very much human.”

Joseph waved a hand to something off screen and the camera panned around the room to reveal several other humans standing in the corner of the room. “As are my friends here.” Joseph continued as the camera spun back around to him.

“Your military was kind enough to invite us to your world for a little…chat..and afterwards we felt it only right to see this prime example of society we’ve heard so much about.”

Gavrin felt something strange and turned to see the building behind him. The virtual ad for some food parlor warped and displayed the same transmission of the human at the broadcast station. He watched as one by one the ads lining the streets all began to blink and switch to the same feed.

“They’re using the emergency broadcast system.”

His statement fell on deaf ears as sounds of weapons fire erupted from the broadcast building. Jimble and Gavrin both reached for their side arms and trained them on the entrance expecting something to come rushing out. The windows of the upper floors were flashing with the light of muzzle fire and grenades exploding, several of them shattering from the barrage raining broken glass down on to the below streets.

Gavrin looked up to see a soldier flung through one of the windows as if they were nothing but a rag doll. They screamed the entire way down falling through the air until impacting the ground with a disgusting wet flop of a sound.

“I’ve learned so much about your culture these last few days.” The human calling themselves Joseph continued. “For instance, your media appears to block any mention of the war effort what so ever.”

Joseph stood up and began walking across to the other side of the room and as the camera followed him Jimble and Gavrin let out a horrid gasp. Curled up in the corner was the broadcast stations staff, bound with cabling.

Joseph knelt down to one of them and removed their gag. “Tell me, mr…” he waited several seconds before his hostage caught on that he was waiting for him to respond. “Kavik.” They said as their voice reeked with fear. “Mr Kavik, thank you.” Joseph continued as he placed his arm around Kavik. “What do you know about the war between our two peoples; hmm?”  

Kavik looked confused and scared, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. “That..” he began to speak, “that we are winning.”

To Gavrin’s surprise, rather than showing anger the human laughed and patted Kavik on the back.

“What a patriotic answer!” Joseph smiled as he continued patting Kavik on the back. “I’m sure it will be perfect on your tombstone.”

Before Kavik could react Joseph had grabbed his head with both hands and violently twisted. In an instant Kavik’s neck had snapped and his head was now facing the wrong direction on his body.

“Will someone kill this flartack feed!?” Jimble could hear the officer shouting again. “It’s going out planet wide!”

To Gavrin’s horror the humand did not stop at simply snapping the now dead broadcaster’s neck. They watched as the human continued to twist the head in circles until the skin began to rip and tear. As the camera continued to remain focused on the gruesome affair, Joseph slowly and deliberately continued twisting the head in circles until finally pulling it free from the body along with a portion of the spine.

“See what patriotism will get you kiddies?” Joseph still had a smile upon his face even as he casually held the severed head.

Jimble’s eyes were so transfixed by this act of barbarity unfolding before him that he didn’t feel Gavrin shaking him.

“Do you hear me? We need to get in there!”

Jimble looked down from the virtual displays and Gavrin saw nothing but fear in his partner’s eyes.

“Did you not just see the human rip a head off with their bare hands?!?!” Jimble was nearly hysterical now. His mind was not able to process what was happening before him. Before Gavrin could reason with him Joseph spoke again.

“You see, your people have a knack for invading other systems and either enslaving or eradicating species on flights of fancy.” Joseph let the head fall from his hand finally and just before it hit the ground kicked it with his right leg. The head simply turned into a shower of blood, bone, and bile before the camera; coating Joseph in a glazing of gore.

“Reading your records it’s been centuries since the last time one of your own worlds felt an enemy attack, so I imagine it’s given you this sense of security and superiority.”

Joseph looked down at his hands now for the first time and noticed they were covered in blood. He tried shaking them a few times but after that failed he walked back to the huddled hostages and wiped his hands on one of them.

“My friends and I thought that it would be most beneficial to reintroduce you to the horrors of war.”

The smile faded from Joseph’s face as one by one the other humans began to stand behind him.

“From this day forth, this planet will become a battlefield.”

“The safety and security you have lived with your entire life will now become a distant memory.”

“Your leaders will be hunted down and flayed one by one.”

“Your centers of industry and commerce destroyed beyond repair.”

“Your culture and history washed away in a tide of your own blood.”

“I promise you that for the atrocities you have carried out against my people you shall be shown no quarter, no mercy, and no forgiveness as we rage across this pathetic world like a hurricane of death and destruction.”

Jimble and Gavrin watched silently as the remaining hostages were brought before the camera. Each of them screaming into their gag as the humans slaughtered them like cattle, live for the entire world to see.

“War has been nothing but a game to you people, played out far from your homes and loved ones.”

The smile returned to Joseph’s face, but it lacked any semblance of warmth or kindness. It was a twisted smile, a smile of a predator looking down at his prey’s final moments.

“So now I want to ask you all, would you like to play a game?”

Roar of an explosion rocked the broadcast station building cutting the feed instantly. Jimble, Gavrin, and the officer dove for cover as debris began falling all around them. When the dust finally settled Gavrin looked upwards and saw the smoking remains of several destroyed floors.

“It’s about time.” The office said into her communicator as she straightened up. “Which team finally got the shot off?”

She waited for several seconds but no reply. “Repeat, which team took out the building?”

Yet again, silence.

“Will someone respond!?”

As Gavrin and Jimble both rose to their feet a strange thudding sound could be heard in the distance.

“What’s that sound?” Jimble queried. Gavrin listened closer to the thudding. “It almost sounds like-“

Another set of explosions rocked the street, this time from below the surface. In a flash of light Gavrin saw the officer thrown violently up into the air as the ground beneath her feet exploded upwards. He didn’t see where she landed as the explosions continued to ring out all around him.

When the explosions finally stopped Gavrin opened his eyes to a city of darkness. Every light save for the fires now burning brightly across the city streets were off. People in surrounding streets now ran to and fro in panic as if they had been consumed by madness.

“We need to contact headquarters.” He turned to see if Jimble was already up only to find his body limply hanging out from under a crushed piece of masonry.  

“Well hello there, friend.”

Gavrin turned to see the speaker and froze.

Joseph was standing before him, casually standing in front of him with half his face burnt off. He could see strips of flesh burnt and charred hanging from him like bits of loose string, but even more surprising was the slowly growing blob of new skin that was already growing over the wounds.

Remembering his side arm Gavrin went for it but was too slow. In a flash Joseph had grabbed his hand by the wrist and clenched it so tight he severed it entirely.

Gavrin looked down at where his hand had once been and the bloody stump that now remained; a twisted mesh of blood and bile leaking from his wound like a waterfall. He looked up at his attacker to see the dozen or so humans that had been with him on the screen spreading out from the building. Some were equally singed while others appeared fine as day.

Several civilians saw them as well and let out a scream in horror. The humans began running and were on the in moments ripping them limb from limb.

It was chaos, pure chaos.

The last thing Gavrin remembered before passing out from blood loss was the crooked smile of Joseph as he looked down on him.

The crooked smile of a predator about to feed on a world driven to madness. 

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.3

Summary: Penny goes to Walter's loft, so he could help her out with some school assignments

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Walter and I agreed that he would pick me up from the train station nearby and when I near the vacant parking lot, I can already see him waiting in his truck. He holds up his hand, a sign that he saw me too and I hurry towards the enormous vehicle. I barely see trucks this large here in New York, making me assume he actually brought this with him from Minnesota. Maybe he even moved here with this thing, the trunk stuffed with his belongings.

Though I highly believe this man actually didn’t bring a lot of stuff with him. He doesn’t seem like the type to be very materialistic.

When I open the door, I can’t possibly hide my smile.

Of course I thought about this for awhile (it’s all I thought about the entire class) and debated whether or not this would be a good idea. While this is definitely not a great idea, it doesn’t feel weird or scary. I mean, my mom certainly wouldn’t approve of this and I think my dad would have a stroke if he found out what I was doing.

Is this how people get murdered? Am I too naive?

I don’t think so. I trust Walter. He is a nice man and I’ve been with him alone in his office two times now. That wasn’t scary, he isn’t giving me bad vibes.

Going to his loft shouldn’t be that much different.

‘How were your classes, Penny?’ Walter asks.

A scoff leaves my lips. ‘It was horrid,�� I mumble, placing my backpack in-between my legs. ‘Professor Carter really likes hearing himself speak.’

‘That,’ he says, starting his car, ‘is true. I hate that guy.’

I chuckle. ‘Hate is such a strong word,’ I tell him. ‘I’d like to say he is simply hard to like.’

Walter smiles. ‘Of course.’

I fumble my thumbs as they are placed on my lap, taking in a breath. I’m really nervous, which is completely unnecessary. I feel safe around Walter, I feel noticed around him. It’s nice being noticed, especially by someone like Walter.

‘I didn’t know if you want something,’ Walter says, ‘so I got you some chocolate and cookies. If you don’t like that, please tell me. I can make a small detour to the grocery store.’

‘No, chocolate and cookies are perfect.’ I run my fingers through my hair, as Walter soars over the roads. His driving style fits him perfectly. He is impatient, quick and breaks abruptly, instead of slowly, a complete one eighty compared to my driving style. ‘You’re not gonna kill me, right?’

Walter starts to laugh and it’s the first time I actually see him putting his guard completely down. His eyes are smaller, the little crowfeet appear near them. ‘Of course not. I would lose my only student with sense.’

I lean back against the seat, as I watch how we get deeper into the city. I’m usually never in this part of town. I look to the side, admiring Walter’s beautifully sculptured face. The beard kinda hides it, but I know that his face is close to perfection.

‘You’re staring,’ he says, his eyes not once leaving the road.

Oh dear, I totally am. How incredibly rude of me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I quickly apologize.

‘It’s not a problem. Kinda cute actually.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You always stare in class,’ he says. ‘When things get a little gore, you start to blink really fast, you scrunch up your nose and try to stare at your fingers, but you don’t want to be rude and miss something, so you look up again. Only this time you’re squinting and you make a pretty poor attempt of hiding your disgust.’

‘Wow,’ I chuckle. ‘That’s specific.’

‘Noticing the smallest details is important in my line of work. Tell me what I do during class.’

I swallow as I try to think about everything he does in class. ‘You never look at people when you call out their name. It usually takes around a second or two, before you tear your gaze away from whatever you’re looking at. You are quite insulting when it comes to stupid answers.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You either scoff or roll your eyes,’ I note. ‘Besides, you always look bored, even when someone makes a good point.’

‘That’s because I am,’ he retorts.

‘Teaching really isn’t your thing, is it?’

He snickers. ‘Oh no. You could say I hate it with a passion. But if I do this, I could one day maybe work in the force again. It’s just a little in between jobs.’

‘You miss it, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ he answers. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever missed something that much.’

‘You miss Minnesota?’

He shakes his head. ‘I mean, a little of course, but New York is great too.’

‘Are you married? Or do you have someone?’ I ask.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I haven’t met her yet,’ he says. ‘Besides, I’m picky. You got a boyfriend?’

I can’t even stop my laughter. ‘No, of course not,’ I answer. ‘There is no one that likes me anyways.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he says in a pretty harsh tone. ‘You’re a lovely girl and any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.’

My cheeks burn up. ‘You think so?’

‘I know so, Penny. Let me tell you this: you are amazing, smart and the guy you end up with is gonna be one lucky man, since you’re probably out of his league anyway.’

He really thinks so?

Walter parks his car in the parking garage underneath the apartment building and he tells me to wait, as he gets out. He walks around the truck and opens the door for me.

‘I can open my own door, you know?’

‘I know,’ he chuckles, gesturing to hand over my bag. ‘But I couldn’t do it back at the station, so humor me for a second, okay?’

‘Of course.’ I grab his hand and he helps me out the car. Together we walk towards the elevator and I nervously roll my ankle, as we wait for the elevator to arrive at the right floor.

It abruptly stops and we walk out towards his door. He pushes it open, telling me to go in first.

His loft meets up to the expectations I had. Boring. Nearly empty. Only decorated with the necessities. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘This is exactly what I thought it would be.’

Walter hangs his coat over the back of the chair. ‘Is that so?’

I let the material of my own jacket slide off my shoulders. ‘Mhm, you have very little taste.’

‘I’d like to call it minimalistic,’ he retorts, as he takes my jacket from me hands. He tells me to sit and relax, while he makes us some tea.

I carefully take place on his couch, looking around me. Thankfully he removed all the eventual crime scene photos, files or anything related to the gory side of police work.

‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you,’ I say to Walter as he sits next to me, placing the tea on the coffee table. The couch cushion I’m sitting on, slightly dips to the right as he takes place. I have to tighten all my non existent muscles to not slide towards him, however I am not very strong, nor fit, so I bump against his side. ‘Sorry,’ I say.

‘It’s okay. Tell me, what are subjects that you struggle with.’

‘Everything,’ I admit.

He smiles. ‘Then I shall help you with everything.’

✎ ✎ ✎

My brain hurts from all the things Walter says to me and the way he answers all my questions. It’s so sweet and considerate of him to literally minimize everything to a level I could understand it. I take off my glasses as I rub my eyes. Walter has placed his arm on the armrest, our bodies closer than I’ve ever been to someone who I thought was attractive.

‘This isn’t working,’ Walter says, when it’s obvious I’m not registering anything anymore. ‘You need a break.’ He places my laptop and papers on the coffee table and stands up. He ushers me to follow him and I nearly run after him, since he’s taking such large strides.

‘Where are we going?’

He slides open the doors that lead to a little balcony. It’s just as boring as the rest of his place, but the view on the other hand is absolutely lovely. I walk towards the balustrade, holding the cold metal as I look over the city.

‘Wow,’ I say, ‘this is so beautiful.’

He smiles as he stands next to me. ‘It sure is.’

‘I’ve never saw the city like this,’ I say.

‘Where you’re from originally?’

‘Maryland,’ I answer. ‘But New York is really fun as well. Maybe even more so, if I’m being honest.’

‘I’ve never been there,’ Walter says, placing his underarms on the balustrade, so we’re around the same height. He looks to the side, at the same time the wind blows. He chuckles, when strands of my hair slap him across the face.

‘Sorry,’ I smile, as I try to contain the wild hairs.

He holds out his hand, pushing back a strand behind my ear. ‘That’s okay, Penny. You like it out here?’

‘Yes, I really do. It’s nice to take a bit of a breather. I’m sorry I am not really getting it.’

‘No, don’t be silly,’ he says, ‘you’re doing great. It’s my teaching skills that are lacking.’

I bite my lip as I take in his entire face. He is so close, just like he was back in the living room. He placed his arm on the backrest of the couch, his body so close near mine, that I could smell his lovely cologne.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he softly admits, almost as if he doesn’t want me to hear.

‘Oh,’ I whisper, slightly taken aback, ‘really?’

‘Really. You have your phone with you?’

I pull it out of my back pocket. ‘Yes, why?’

‘Allow me to memorize this moment for you.’

It’s a slightly odd request, but I give him the phone and he takes a few pictures of me. For some reason, I don’t feel awkward. Usually I take pictures by myself or I let my mom take one, but that’s only the case when she wants to make a picture for her friends to show me off.

With Walter behind the camera, I’m relaxed and not so nervous.

Which is strange. I keep forgetting he is my professor. With his head, he nods me over and I look over his arm to the phone screen. ‘They look good,’ I say.

‘Not just good,’ he says. ‘You look amazing.’

He hands me back my phone and at the same time, a slightly cold breeze causes me to tense up and shiver a bit. ‘You cold?’

‘A little,’ I admit.

‘Wait here.’

Walter walks back inside, leaving me be for a little while. I look over the city. The cars, the different type of houses. Dogs barking, young kids laughing and just people having fun in general.

‘Here you go,’ Walter says, ‘I got you a sweater and some tea.’

I look over my shoulder, to see him placing two steaming mugs of tea on the tiny table and indeed a thick sweater (one of his own) in his hands. ‘You’re really going out of your way for me,’ I admit. ‘That’s nice.’

He frowns. ‘No one’s ever gone out of their way for you before?’

I shake my head.

‘Let me be the first then.’ He actually helps me into the sweater and gently pulls out my hairs from the sweater.

I take place on the slightly uncomfortable chair. It’s a bit windy, but not unpleasant. Especially not when I’m wearing a sweater this warm.

‘What are you thinking?’ I ask Walter.

He shrugs. ‘Just something crossed my mind, but I don’t want to intrude.’

‘You could never. If someone is intruding, then it’s totally me. I mean, I literally am at your place, because school’s too hard for me. Seriously, you can ask me anything you want.’

‘When did you find out you were placed at the church?’

I wrap my fingers around my mug and say: ‘My mom always said that I was a special delivery from the stork. I knew I was adopted, but I never thought more of it. My parents were simply my parents, even though they didn’t look like me. One day a kid in my class thought it was stupid I had white parents, when I clearly wasn’t, I realized it maybe was a bit weird. So I asked them about it and they told me the entire story.’

‘Must’ve been hard,’ Walter says.

I shrug. ‘Kinda.’

‘Does it bother you to this day? In your day to day life?’

These are very intense questions. He really does want to get to know me better, right? ‘You kinda carry it with you all the time,’ I say. ‘Oh no, I’m gonna cry.’ I blink my eyes fast, as I try to redirect both my feelings and his attention. ‘This is stupid, I’m sorry.’

‘No, no, no,’ he says, in such a soft and caring tone, that it almost makes me cry a little more. When was the last time someone was this caring about me outside my family? ‘Don’t apologize for your feelings.’

It just doesn’t match. His uninterested appearance versus this hidden caring nature of his. He leans forward and places his hand on my knee. A simple gesture, enough however to stop my heart from working. ‘I’ll try,’ I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks. ‘I promise.’

✎ ✎ ✎

After the well needed break, I was in the right mindset and managed to get a lot of work done. Turns out: I’m not stupid, I’m just a bit slow from time to time. Having someone that helps me, gives me a better understanding of it all.

‘You know,’ I say, as I pack my stuff in my bag, ‘your hair is quite dry and frizzy.’

‘Is it?’ Walter asks with a chuckle. ‘You have some nerves, young lady, to tell me my hair is frizzy after I helped you out.’

‘Just want to give you a bit of advice in return,’ I snicker.

‘Well, since you want to go to cosmetology school so badly, you tell me next week what products I need to use and I’ll be your test subject, how about that?’

He wants to see me again? Or does he mean after school? Or simply through texts?

‘Really?’

‘Of course, Penny.’

‘Thank you again for helping me out,’ I say. ‘I know this isn’t exactly in your job description.’

‘I’m happy to help, if it’s in my job description or not.’ He grabs my coat and helps me in it. ‘You want a lift?’

I shake my head. ‘It’s still light outside and I can go by bus. I need to do some groceries anyway.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I am sure,’ I say. ‘Really, it’s not a big deal.’

‘Just share your location with me, okay? I want to make sure you’re back safe.’

Walter is such a caring and loving man, though he tries to hide it underneath all that grumpiness.

‘Okay, will do,’ I say, after I put on my shoes. I place my bag on the floor, grab my phone and start sharing my location with him for the next four hours. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him, when I push my phone in my back pocket and the two of us lock eyes.

‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I just really got to know you. That was nice.’

I smile. ‘It totally was,’ I say. ‘I’d like to get to know you a bit more next time.’

Next time? I’m really suggesting a next time?

Walter barely responds to it, only a small cocking of his eyebrow. ‘Next time,’ he says. ‘You’ll get to know plenty about me.’ He takes a step forward, only for me to be able to smell his cologne. Gosh, what does one say right now?

While I’m contemplating the best topics, Walter seemed to have no issue coming up with something. ‘You’re staring again,’ he notes.

‘No, I’m not,’ I say to him, way too quickly. ‘Okay, maybe I was.’

You have to ask me again later on how exactly, but somehow my back is pressed against the wall. Walter places his hand on my cheek, his calloused thumb brushing over my parted lips. I don’t know where to look, but my gaze stops at his kissable looking lips.

His body is pressed against mine and two slow seconds passes before I feel his lips on mine.

What is this? Is he truly kissing me? I can’t believe this. My first kiss. I hold onto his thick sweater, my fingers wrapping tightly on the fabric, almost solely because my knees start to wobble like crazy. It’s the first time I felt someone’s lips on mine. Someone’s beard scratching my chin. Never before did I feel someone’s tongue carefully over my bottom lip. He cages me in between his thick arms. He is so much more overpowering, dominant, but boy, is it a role that suits him so well.

Much to my dismay, he pulls back to flash me a tiny smile. ‘I’ve been thinking about doing this for quite some time now today.’

‘Why?’ I ask him.

He smiles. ‘Just because,’ he says.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it too,’ I whisper.

‘What stopped you from doing it?’

‘You’re my professor, Walter.’

He nods. ‘I know. That should’ve stopped me,’ he admits.

‘No, no,’ I say, placing my hands on both sides of his face. ‘Don’t let it stop you. Please don’t.’ It sounds slightly needy, but I can’t help it. It’s the first time in my entire life I feel this alive. With his understanding, I notice finally the ability for me to figure out who I am as a person. However, those words stay close to my heart. I bite my bottom lip and he interprets it as an invitation and I’m so thankful he does.

The kiss is less soft than the previous one, far more intense. I don’t want to stop kissing him. His lips part from mine, evading his way to my nape to press wet kisses on the delicate skin. My fingers run through his hair. ‘Walter,’ I say and he looks up. I always notice the shift in gazes when he is with me. So much softer, gentle and caring than he is in class or with others. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure about what?’

‘Me?’

A crooked smile appears on his lips. ‘I’ve never been so sure.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Once I got home, realization truly hit. I just kissed my professor.

Was it smart? No.

Will I do it again? Probably.

Oh my, I’m falling for him, aren’t I? I had this insanely goofy grin on my face as I sat in the bus, did my groceries and went to my dorm. I bet I looked like a moron, but I couldn’t help myself. Walter’s lips on mine felt so good.

Those lips will be all I am going to think about. I take off my coat, only to realize I’m still wearing his sweater. It smells like him, his wonderful cologne.

I’m this deep in thoughts and little dreams, that I yelp when I hear a text coming in.

Walter: You’re home safe, right?

Oh, that’s right. I was sharing my location with him.

Me: Yes, I just walked in

Walter: Did you lock your door?

Me: Yes

Walter: Okay good

Me: Thanks for your help btw

Walter: Of course, not a problem

Me: I think I’m gonna go get ready for bed

Walter: Alright, princess

Walter: Good night

✎ ✎ ✎

[themonkeycabal]

Wandavision Ep 7 Spoilers

Spoilers below

Good morning. There's a guy power washing the sidewalks at 12:30 a.m., and the drone from the generator is drilling into my brain. So I will watch WandaVision instead of doing something I might regret.

Previously on: Wanda was getting sick of Pietro's shit. Vision knows/thinks his wife is behind all the creepy shenanigans, and he tried to escape the Hex, only to fly to pieces in the real world. I can relate.

Outside, Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy were banished from the SWORD circus by Acting Director Dick, because of course. They snuck back in, also because of course. Darcy hacked AD Dick's files and found out he's Up to Something. Then she ran to try and help Vision and got herself arrested and handcuffed to a jeep. Which is where the brave SWORD agents left her when they ran away as Wanda, attempting to save Vision, expanded the Hex, swallowing Darcy and the SWORD compound, turning it all into a sitcom circus. Well deserved. Well, not Darcy, but anyway.

AD Dick escaped. Unfortunately. But, so did Jimmy and Monica who were off to her mystery aerospace engineer friend to find a way into the Hex.

Also, Tommy and Billy have powers.  

The episode 7 summary is a delight: "Two super-powered beings living ideal suburban lives suspect that everything is not as it seems." You don't say, Disney+.

Wanda wakes, regrets everything, and hides under the covers.  Understandable. Cut away to her addressing the camera The Office style "Look, we've all been there. Letting our fear and anger get the best of us; intentionally expanding the boarders of the false world we created". (cut to screaming running SWORD minions lol).

The boys come to get her, their game is freaking out. The video game controllers can't decide what decade they're in and are glitching it up.

Billy says his head feels weird and noisy. Wanda isn't terribly responsive. Mommy needs some her time.

"As punishment for my reckless evening, I plan on taking a quarantine-style staycation. A whole day. Just to myself. That'll show me." lol

Wanda eventually rouses herself, goes downstairs in her robe and sweats, ignores the boys fighting over a video game controller, and goes for the sugariest cereal. The milk container keeps glitching, she tries very very hard to ignore that.

Interesting Office-style opening credits, where it's just her name on everything. Vision is only added at the end, with the tag "Created by Wanda Maximoff".

Out in the real world, what is the point of SWORD? Like how do they have jurisdiction? Where is SHIELD. Director Mack, wtf, dude?

Anyway, now that part of their camp has been swallowed by the hex, they're further out, staring at the angry glowing force-field. AD Dick is a dick. He wants to know what's happening with the broadcast. His little minion says the signal's gone. Ominously he says "we launch today". Mmmm, what delightfully heavy-handed dipshittery will we have to endure?

Back inside. Vision wakes in the field at the edge of town that is now a circus. And lots and lots of clowns. He gets yelled at by a strongman who seems to think Vision is the new clown and tells him he's late for rehearsal with the escape artist. Who is Darcy. lol

"I put in for the bearded lady. But this alabaster complexion wasn't fooling anyone."

Darcy is chained to a ye olde fire engine or tractor or something. Vision walks up to her making a weird face and kind of waving his hand back and forth between them.

"You don't remember me from last night? We locked eyes, there was an unspoken understanding." Darcy tells him "um, hard pass." lol She busts out of her chains and walks away, Vision chases after.

Back at home, Wanda wants to know if the boys have seen dad, they haven't, but Billy wants to know about that whole thing Uncle Pietro said about dad being dead again. Wanda says Pietro is not their uncle. The boys don't understand, and Wanda has a little rambling breakdown about how she has no answers and maybe there's no meaning to anything ha ha don't worry boys mommy's just having a little depression.

Agnes knocks and then, you know, strolls in, when Wanda magics the door open.

"Hi Agnes. I'd get up but I just don't, ahahahah, want to." If I was Billy or Tommy I'd mount a search for dad. Stat.

Agnes: "I think I got there in the nick of time, 'cause she was one split-end away from cutting her own bangs."

(It's 1 a.m. and I swear to God, that man is still power-washing the sidewalks.)

Agnes suggests the boys go with her and give mommy that 'me time' she so desperately needs. The boys are reluctant but Wanda is ecstatic.

Once alone with her certainly soggy cereal, Wanda settles back to watch crappy daytime TV. But, damn it, the furniture is glitching through the eras.

"I'm fine! I'm fine hahahah. *sigh* I'm fine. i'm fine. … I'm fine."

In the real world. Jimmy and Monica are still on the move. The file on project whatever it was from last episode (Cataract), that Darcy forwarded to Jimmy's email, has finally found its way to him. It's R&D reports.

Oh, that asshole, AD Dick was trying to bring Vision back online. Monica puts the pieces together "Heyward wants his sentient weapon back."

Jimmy says somebody has to tell Wanda.

Good thing they arrive at the other side of the Hex, I guess? Where Monica has another team waiting. An Agent Goodner. They brought her like some sort of big Mars rover thingy.

Vision is still trying to talk to Darcy. "You tried to help me." "Doubtful. I'm notoriously self-involved."

lol, some amusing back and forth. Darcy is an f'ing delight and I don't just say that because I am obviously hideously biased.

Vision distracts her with a mime and takes the opportunity to do his brain mojo on her, waking her up. "Part of me secretly wanted a guest spot on this show, but seriously that sucked."

"Dr. Lewis. I have questions." "I have answers."

And then they steal the funnel cake truck.

"Dr. Lewis, my questions. Are my children safe?" "That I don't know." "And who was that Pietro?" "Beats me."

Wanda is still working on her bowl of cereal. Give it up, sister. The house redecorates itself around her.

Uh-oh, in her talking head segment, about how she doesn't understand whats going on, the person behind the camera speaks, and asks if maybe it's what she deserves. "You're not supposed to talk."

Commercial time. For a depression medication. "Nexus, a unique antidepressant that works to anchor you back to your reality. Or the reality of your choice."

Back in Westview. The boys are hanging at Agnes's. Billy has a rabbit. As happens at your crazy neighbor's house. But, he says he likes it there, because it's quiet. "You're quiet, Agnes. On the inside." J'ACCUSE, AGNES!  

Back at Monica's backup camp, she's getting suited up in her SWORD astronaut suit. Jimmy's sad because Darcy's missing the fun. But, Monica will rescue her. SWORD is worse than SHIELD for slapping their name all over everything.

Monica and the little rover zoom off to the hex. Should she really go that fast? Maybe this is something to take cautiously? Oh, and look, she hit it hard and she's stuck. The Hex doesn't want to let her in, but she keeps trying. And now the Hex is eating into the rover — sorry, *re-writing* it. Well that was a dumb plan. Sorry guys, but come on.

Monica escapes, but the hex eats the rover and then spits it out, the front half transformed into a truck. Monica is shocked, Jimmy calls for a medic, and as they run forward, Jimmy, who has known Monica for like two days, recognizes she's got 'I'm a heroic dummy' face on and he's all "noooooo!". She runs for the hex and pushes her way in.

This is a really long sequence of her going through the hex. Like … too long. Sorry, but it is. There's a whole thing where she's hearing voices from moments in her life, and she hears Carol tell her how she's a tough kid, and now Monica is Filled With Resolve and breaks through the Hex, still in her Astronaut outfit, so like she resisted the sitcom wardrobe department.

I enjoy this show, but there are moments of hokeyness that I find very trying.

The hex rewrites you at a basic level as you pass through it. So, third time through and Monica's eyes are glowy blue and she can, like, see electrical currents, or electromagnetic fields (it looks like). Trippy. She can see power along the power lines, fields around streetlights. Closing her eyes and shaking her head makes it all go away. Of course.

Meanwhile, Darcy and Vision are on their slow-speed getaway in the Funnel Cake truck. She's trying to catch him up on what's happened since he's been dead. They keep hitting red lights and obstacles. Vision thinks Wanda's doing it to keep him from getting home. "I'm not amused," he tells the camera with a very not amused face on. lol

Vision is trying to understand what he is now. It's not going well. "My corporeal form was born from Ultron's plan for global genocide?" "Correct-o." Darcy might not be the best person to be explaining this to him.

"What am I now?" Poor Vision.

Darcy takes a deep breath. In fairness, she looks like maybe she'd rather not be the one doing the explaining, either. "Honestly, I'm a STEM type of lady, so I thought she just flipped a switch on your head and brought you back to life. What I don't get is why you can't leave the hex."

Vision is having an existential crisis. But, Darcy assures him that based on her week-long experience as a fan of WandaVision, he and Wanda do really love each other. So, there's that. "You belong together," says the shameless shipper.

Meanwhile, Monica has arrived at the Maximoff residence and busts into the house, breathlessly trying to tell Wanda it's all Heyward being a dick, but Wanda's stunned by the sudden entry and then too pissed to really listen. "The drones, the missiles, Pietro." "No, Pietro wasn't us." "All you do is lie." She's tossing Monica around with her powers.

Monica, friend, buddy, pal, was that really your plan? To barge right in and just … what? Talk fast and hope she didn't yeet your ass again? Okay, she didn't have a lot of time, I get that, but surely she could have come up with something. Like, she should have found Darcy and Vision first, and then the three of them could approach Wanda. But, no. Jimmy Woo would have a plan, Monica.

Well, fortunately for Monica she's been rewritten into Electricity Lass. She hits the ground with a staticky crackle and her eyes glow blue again. Wanda's all "bu-whu?"

"The only lies I've told are the ones you put in my mouth," Monica says all angry like. Mmmkay, I thought you were trying to help? Wanda does not care for this response. Because, no offense Monica, but the last time she heard your voice, she had a missile launched at her head.

Monica challenges her. "Do it then, take me out." Not an approach I’d go for, but it seems to work, and Wanda hesitates and Monica tries to warn her again, that unlike Wanda who isn’t actually violent and evil, Heyward will burn down Westview to get what he wants. "Don't let him make you the villain."

"Maybe I already am."

Next door, Agnes is looking out the window, watching them, with a considering look on her face. BECAUSE SHE IS IN ON WHATEVER THIS IS.

Monica is still trying to talk down Wanda. Agnes interrupts. Creepily. And shepherds Wanda away.

Vision and Darcy are thwarted in their journey again. "Oh come on! Kids? What's next? Puppies?"

Vision takes the faster way and intangibles himself out of the van and flies off, leaving Darcy at the endless intersection. "Go on! I'll just meet you there then?"

Back at Agnes's shack of creepy ladies who are freaking up to something. Where are the boys? Oh, Wanda notices the half-eaten PB&Js and the nightmarish kids' show on the telly. Behind her the bunny is in its cage. No sign of the boys. Agnes says they're probably playing in the basement.

Wanda wanders off to find them. But, there are no boys, only horror show creepiness. The basement turns into some weird sort of domed cavern with arches all around and in the middle a weird glowing rectangle.

Agnes comes up behind her. "You didn't think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?" I was wise to you, Agnes. Which, given she was a featured co-star, was probably no great insight on my part. BUT STILL!

"The name's Agatha Harkness. Lovely to finally meet you, dear." OH! LOLOLOL! OH, I didn't see that one coming. Wow, you got me, show. It never occurred to me for a second that it was Agatha Harkness.

And now a fantastic montage of Agatha doing tricksy things as Agnes through the series, with the best theme song ever "Who's been messing up everything? It's been Agatha, all along! Who's been pulling every evil string? It's been Agatha, all along. She's insidious. HA HA! So perfidious." Oh man, this is great. "And I killed Sparky, too."

LOL. Great ending.

Hey, an unexpected mid-credits scene of Monica trying to get into the house. Maybe Agnes's? Oh, yeah, she finds a storm cellar and opens the doors, to see a stone stairway with vines or roots growing all around it and zippy electrical sparks and such. Pietro appears behind her. "Snoopers gonna snoop."

Credits!

Well then.

I KNEW IT! I didn't know what I knew, but I knew I knew a thing!

[hlcreators]

AUTHOR REC:  creamcoffeelou / @2ofusmp4 

Be sure to show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

last blues for bloody knuckles (34k)

“Hi, love,” A too-familiar voice greeted him from the other side of the door. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips that he brought between two fingers as his eyes raked over Louis. All Louis could do was stare, wide-eyed at the alpha that he’d left behind so many years ago. “Harry?” His voice felt far away, like it wasn’t him that was speaking. On the other side of the door stood the one man he never thought he’d see again, and maybe the only man he never wanted to see again. A few steps behind him stood Liam and someone else he didn’t recognize, with guns tucked into their front pockets. “I need you to come with me.”

OR

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

A mob au.

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Being ‘twenty-four-seven’ in the traditional sense wasn’t exactly realistic in their life, no matter how much they tried to make it work. They could do small things within their power dynamic, they could try their best to keep it going, but more or less, it wasn’t a constant thing. Harry called it submission with weekends and bank holidays, and it worked for them.

As different as it was from what he expected, no matter what, in the end, it worked for them – and that was all that mattered.

“Can I… take care of you?” Harry had asked, his eyes looking everywhere but at Louis. Louis had just turned twenty-three, they’d been exploring things, doing new things for years, and Harry still managed to surprise him. “Like… Just do things for you like you take such good care of me.”

OR: A canon-compliant fic where Harry wants nothing more than to take care of Louis.

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When the small town of Twin Lakes begins experiencing a string of serial murders, a team of detectives is called in to help. Louis is the head of the team and meets a hard-headed psychic who everyone else seems to believe is the one who will solve the case. Louis isn't so sure.

OR The slow-burn, hate-to-love, crime au where Harry is a psychic, Louis is a detective, and the world is against them.

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Louis has long since been following the same schedule, the same program, the same everything. He works hard towards his goals and gives everything to those that mean the most to him. Harry was never a part of the plan, but Louis finds he loves unplanned changes.

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There’s something so uniquely captivating to being on stage - to being the center of attention. Louis has always craved it, always craved the feeling of being desired by all only to have his own pick at the end of the night. He knows people come to see him specifically - has been told time and time again - and maybe that’s why he’s so in love with what he does. He knows he’s wanted and he loves being able to manipulate the attention of the men and women sitting in the crowd around him. 

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America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. Harry Styles was never a part of the plan.

[or: Louis moves his family to America to try and find a better life. Harry finds him instead.]

Just A Whisper (11k)

Strange things have happened around the castle since Louis was young. No one has ever been able to explain them and they've long since gone ignored. As the hauntings become more frequent, Louis finally reaches his last straw and calls a professional to help him.

Ready To Run (11k)

After being left at the alter by his boyfriend of five years, Louis goes on a vacation to try and clear his head and fill the empty spaces in his heart. On the way, he meets a new group of life-long friends, and maybe a little more than that.

Just To Feel (4.1k)

Reason #17: Your car's already at their place and you're too lazy to move it.

When he wakes up, his back hurts, his head is pounding, and his mouth is extremely dry. There’s too much light around him and he doesn’t remember falling asleep at all the night before, let alone getting home. But as soon as he opens his eyes, he realizes very quickly that he’s not home.

He’s managed to fall asleep on the floor of Harry Style’s flat.

The Brightest Star Shines Through The Dark (16k)

Harry and Louis build their life together from the beginning - but even losing everything can't tear them apart.

What A Feeling (2.9k)

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Louis says with a slightly forced laugh. “Yeah, cause there’s nothin’ to tell!” Liam replies with a grin, getting a cackle from Niall, and making Louis’ face flame. He can feel Harry’s soft chuckle, just because their bodies are touching. “Like you have room to talk, mate.” He bites back, but all three of them are still laughing. He really needs to get laid.

Across The Lines (28k)

With a camera in hand, Louis sets off on the road trip of his life to explore the most famous haunted houses of the UK. Things don't exactly go to plan.

End Game (54k)

Harry styles is the most feared man in London, notorious for always getting everything he wants. All of that changes when Louis comes around and opens his eyes to a new, beautiful side of the world.

Beneath These Sparkling Lights (Forever you’re mine) (5.1k)

"After years of being called a couple teasingly by both our families and friends alike, I know it was nerve wracking for the both of us when it finally actually happened. But for our entire lives we’ve always been HarryandLouis, never apart, whether we called ourselves best friends or best friends and fiancés or now best friends and husbands.” Harry’s smile is so gorgeous that Louis feels a little shake in his knees, “Through everything, the good, the sometimes weird, and the bad, I’m so glad it was you at my side. I know life is ugly sometimes, but you’re the beauty in the fight that is life, for me. My rose to my dagger."

Last Day Alive (42k)

Harry Styles was born to the leader of the Following - the organization that keeps their world peaceful and just. Without the Following, the world would only return to the ways of the Old Times and all of them would come to an untimely end. Or, so he thought, until he meets Louis, the leader of the Rebellion.

Gentle Autumn Rain (57k)

Louis Tomlinson moved to London with a big heart and a big dream. Harry Styles moved to London, fresh out of the police academy, with the hopes of helping as many people as he could in his eyes. When a deranged alpha forces their paths to cross, their ideas of what is meant to be will never be the same.

Down the Field (9k)

Louis, a pro football player of Chelsea, is forced to retire after a severe injury to his foot. After he recovers and is told the news that he'll never play professionally again, he decides to go coach at his old secondary school. Harry, the health teacher, loves to let him know how big of a fan he is.

I Promise (3.5k)

Harry has a promise to keep and a pair of arms to go home to.

[Loosely based on the drowning scene from Dunkirk's trailer. ]

I Chose You (13k)

When he wakes up, the room is much brighter than when he’d fallen asleep. He has to blink the sleep from his eyes and eventually he just tosses an arm over his face to try and ignore the brightness, but then he realizes that the bed has a decent sized dent in it that forms perfectly to his body and he’s comfortable. It’s – weird. He can’t remember leaving the blinds open, and it wouldn’t have made much sense for Zayn to have opened them, either, but he doesn’t think about it. Maybe he just hadn’t realized that he’d had such a nice bed when he’d fallen asleep.

After a moment, he groans and takes his arm away from his eyes and – wait. This is – this is not his hotel room. This is a bedroom.

[Or: Louis wakes up in another life.]

As We Are (48k)

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

Written In The Stars (71k)

It was so different - the complete opposite of everything Louis had ever expected about finally being placed into the real world. Zayn defied every single thing he'd ever been told about vampires, about how he was supposed to be treated. This was nothing like what he'd expected.

[or: Zayn's the third oldest vampire in the world and found himself searching out the company of a human, so he took Louis as his keep. His maker Harry doesn't approve.]

Running (28k)

Louis was never ashamed of who he was - never had been never would be. But he never really was himself.

In The Heat of The Moment (36k)

The first thing that came to Zayn’s mind when he read Liam Payne’s file was that he was certainly, definitely going to die before he was thirty. The word they used in The Office for such a case was reckless; reckless meant that, perhaps, the person wasn’t at fault, but the universe and said person’s energy didn’t happen to match. That made terrible things happen to that person.

Liam Payne was a classic case of recklessness.

[or: A modern times AU where Zayn is a guardian angel and he's been sent down to protect the most reckless human he's ever met.]

[vydante]

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 11

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Different format this time, taken like a video log, though it’s mostly dialogue. 

[Action: enter folder titled ‘Project Renaissance’.]

...

[Enter Password: |]

[Enter Password: 1R0NM4NSU|]

[Enter Password: 1R0NM4NSUXXAP3XRUL35 |]

[Action: enter.]

...

[Password Accepted.]

[Accessing…]

[Enter folder name.]

[Action: “video logs”.]

[Searching…]

[Folder ‘Video Logs’ found. Would you like to play from the beginning?]

[Action: “Yes.”]

...

[Playing… “uh i don’t know name it whatever you want”, date created: 10-23-2013.]

...

...

“Is this thing on? Hello? Hell-o?”

The video feed shows your lone figure in your lab. It’s dark outside as the timestamp in the corner indicates that it’s half past midnight. You’re sitting directly in front of the camera, dressed in pajamas but no signs of fatigue anywhere.

You visibly huff, but only mirth flickers through your eyes as you look directly into the camera. It doesn’t last long as your eyes travel over to the camera feed and now you’re just looking at yourself as you begin to talk.

“Alright, so uh. Yadda yadda yadda, I planned to manually enter and type all of this out, but… I thought why not record it all in a log along the way? Fun, huh?”

You trail off on that thought, mumbling something about ‘well, that’s what my therapist said, anyways. Ah, wait, I don’t have her yet… mm, should probably look into that…’.

“Anyways, this is day one of Project Renaissance, or as it’s also known as, Project Get-Our-Shit-Together-Before-We-Get-Our-Lives-Rocked-By-Thanos.”

You shrug nonchalantly, but to the keenest of eyes, there was a stiffness in your posture when you mentioned Thanos. It was brief, but present nonetheless as it quickly dissipates from your shoulders.

“And, we don’t have to worry about any of this being leaked or whatever, because this is all on my sweet DAHLIA’s servers! Say something to the camera.”

“Something to the camera,” a dull female voice spoke up from the ceiling, Australian accent thick.

“Charming,” you purse your lips as if to hold back a smile, “Anyways, where was I…”

“Oh, yeah- Renaissance. So this is gonna be a long, long project with a bunch of other mini-folders inside.”

You swiped your hands across the air, slicing through as blue holograms appeared in front of the camera. There were already dozens of folders, but the camera catches only a few of their names.

‘Firecracker’, ‘Thunderpants’, and ‘Accords’ are some that are visible.

“I just wanted to get on base with what we have so far, but it’s not much considering it’s, y’know, only day one.”

You mumble something incoherent away from the camera before gazing back up on the camera feed, not quite looking directly into the camera itself. To the left of you, there’s a hologram of a checklist that you occasionally glance through as you resume speaking.

“Main objective of this project: prevent Thanos from decimating half of the universe, preferably killing him in the process. Side objectives: keep the Avengers together, current members optional, new members in need nonetheless. Contenders in another file.”

You glance at the checklist.

“Current objective: locate and capture Barnes, codename Winter Soldier, and any other Winter Soldiers, and sift through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database for traces of HYDRA.”

“Sidenote: we, ah, started the search yesterday- for Barnes. So far, it’s… Not really promising. I, uh, initially gave the timeline to find Barnes a few days max, but man, I’m starting to doubt that…”

You sigh, scratching at your arm irritably.

“Whatever…” you mumbled.

“Anyways.”

“I, ah, I don’t know for sure what I want to do with Barnes, but considering that I’ll probably have more than ample time to think about it, I’m not worrying about it too much. As for his triggers…”

You glanced at an adjacent folder, almost contemplating.

“I know of one person who can help, but I’m not exactly putting too much hope for that one. So.”

“We might have to resort to B.A.R.F. when it’s ready. DAHLIA, who- who was on that case again?”

“Mr. Quentin Beck and his team, doll.”

“Ah, yeah, Beck. Cute, tall, big ole’ eyes?”

An image hologram pops up in front of you, presumably of Quentin Beck.

“I don’t know about ‘cute’, but in essence? Yep.”

You ignored DAHLIA’s apparent judgment in your taste in men.

“Gotcha. Well, there’s that we can resort to if need be. Um…”

“Well, as for HYDRA, that’s… That’s a whole ‘nother can of worms right there.”

You sighed, and this is the first inkling of exhaustion you’ve shown so far. You deflate a little bit and spend the next few minutes staring at something behind the monitor in silence. You’re deep in thought before your phone buzzes.

Then, the video feed cuts off.

…

… 

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “okay don’t do that weird thing where you record everything i say and make it the title, please dahlia anyways uh i wanna name it uh huh um shit dahlia i swear to god stop doing that”, date created: 11-02-2013.]

…

…

“Wow, alright, I was watching the last log last night and man did I literally got nothing done. I mean, it was the first day, but still! Still, I fucking…”

Your voice trails off as you walk away from the screen, holding what appears to be a big box filled with papers and envelopes. You set it down in the far corner of the lab, still talking but your words are unintelligible as the microphone is too far to hear anything.

“... And yet here I am, just- ugh!”

You dropped your body onto the chair and plopped right in front of the screen. Your hair is disheveled, undersuit still on. There’s a bruise forming on your forehead, but you don’t really seem to care about your messy appearance.

You pointed a lazy finger towards the corner, a small grin as you try to line it up with the camera feed.

“That’s fanmail- apparently someone has been neglecting to read those… It’s me, I’m someone.”

You chuckle to yourself.

“Mm, I’ll read myself to sleep later, probably hang all of it up on a mural wall somewhere. Or the ceiling, that works too. Anyways. Just went on a, shall I say, self-imposed mission. It was, ah, to look for Barnes.”

You sheepishly smiled.

“‘Was followin’ a lead from DAHLIA, a potential hit marker, but- it was just a- a barely running base. Nothin’ new, but- it’s nice. To fly and- and fight in the suit every now and then.”

You shake your head.

“Not the- the current one. The nanite one. It’s- god, I miss it, you know?”

Your eyes glaze over, a faraway glint in your eyes as you paused your ranting. This goes on for about 24 more seconds before you started talking again, voice smaller.

“I did this thing, with dad. After the whole, um, Accords bullshit. He- we would get into our suits- the newer models, and just… Go at each other. No repulsors, no nothing. Just raw, brutal punches in the suit. No holding back, no making sure the other one’s okay after a good blow… Just… We just hailed on each other, you know?”

“I mean, obviously we weren’t trying to kill each other, but sometimes it… It felt close, y’know? Nothing personal, but… It was primal, sometimes. Sometimes he’d knock my jaw a little too loose and all I’d ever see would be red… It was wild, I’ll tell you that.”

“But- we only did it here and there, considerin’, y’know. He’s-... He was getting older, and I was… getting busier.” You sighed. “No one knew about it either; god knows how Rhodey or ma’ would react to us- just- beating the shit out of each other.”

You smiled, though it looked more like a grimace.

“It was fun, though. Get the frustrations out. Work on our weaknesses. Show no hesitation. It’s…”

There’s a sudden hollowness in your eyes as your face shifts, an expression years older than you were currently. Haunted, almost. You shake your head, whatever traces of your former self now gone as you smiled- though, there was nothing genuine to that smile at all.

“... Not important. Anyways.”

You shifted in your seat, clearly uncomfortable at the stagnant air despite being the only one in the room.

“So yeah. HYDRA. I took out everyone at that base. Nothing left. Downloaded whatever they had, wiped it, then burnt it to a crisp. The usual, nothing new, nothing important…”

You shrugged, “It’s harder to get the Avengers to look the other way when I’m doing these solo missions. I’m pretty sure Natasha’s getting sus about this… Nothing tied to me, but. Still.”

“But yeah, DAHLIA’s sifting through the information right now.”

Your eyes shift to the left, presumably a screen with said findings loading in.

“So-o... There was… There was that.”

You paused, trying to gather your thoughts when your eyes flickered.

“Ah- but to continue to the last log; HYDRA… Man. HYDRA, HYDRA, HYDRA. Always a pain in the ass.”

You scowled.

“I thought it was gonna take me a little longer to sift through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, but surprisingly enough, it was… Kind of easy to sort out HYDRA and Not-HYDRA.”

You scratched your head in confusion.

“Back a couple of years ago- or, well, in… Next year, actually. June? Well- Team Cap is gonna go haywire on S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA and Project Insight and basically dump all that good-good, and we,” you noted with an oddly bitter tone, “were left to clean up the mess they made. And, well, it exposed a lot of active field agents. Shit, man.”

You scrubbed your face with your hands, which were marred with fresh scratches and burn marks. It’s unclear where they came from, but you don’t seem bothered by it.

“So many agents were killed in that stunt. God…”

Your voice is muffled, but still audible.

“There was one agent… Codename Acai. Sweet gal, ‘cording to her co-workers. Little unhinged, but she got the work done. She… She was undercover in North Korea for a few years. Got busted by the data dump. And…”

“God, they just…”

You sighed gruffly, refusing to look anywhere near the camera.

“It was rough, finding her body. Kept looking for her even months after the whole Ultron bullshit. By the time we got to her, it took us months to I.D. her body- even worse? North Korea already had her death listed as suicide under her fake name. Bullshit! Parts of her was missin’, how the fuck is that a suicide?! Both feet, gone. Her sternum was nowhere to be found. How- I just…!”

You gritted your teeth.

“I just don’t understand what they were thinking when they pulled that dumbass stunt to release all of that- that sensitive data…! I thought- oh, maybe, maybe, HYDRA had already corrupted a large part of S.H.I.E.L.D., that’s why they did it!”

“But no! No- do you know how much of S.H.I.E.L.D. was infected? How much?!”

You pinched your fingers together and squinted at the camera with a visceral smile.

“6 percent. That 6 percent accounted for a majority of the higher-ups. Not lower field combatants. Not the technicians. The higher-ups.”

“6 percent of S.H.I.E.L.D. was HYDRA,” you hissed, “yet they still endangered the other 94% active and non-active members! Fuck- it was a miracle! A miracle, that we got to any of the agent’s family that had been documented before HYDRA or anyone else could!”

“It’s a miracle that the Bartons even made it- and we didn’t even know about them until Ultron! It’s just-... Fuck!”

Growling, you knocked your head against the metal table in front of you. The camera shakes a little bit.

“God, Romanoff, what the fuck were you thinkin’? You were supposed to keep them in check, not… Not be so goddamn stupid!”

You growled under your breath, taking a moment to breathe. You lifted your head up with a neutral face and exhaled.

“Whatever. What’s done is done. I’ve- I’ve had years to simmer over it and I’m- I’m not. Angry. I swear I’m not. It’s done, it happened. But. Hopefully in this timeline… It won’t happen. Not like that, at least.”

There was a peculiar glint in your eyes as you started reaching into one of your cabinets.

“And I know just how to stop it.”

You raised your eyebrows with your eyes closed, reluctant to repeat what you had already said.

“Again, sifted through S.H.I.E.L.D. for HYDRA. Got the information. And it is all. In. Here.”

You pulled back up to reveal a small black USB flash drive. There’s nothing of interest to it on the outside, but it’s what’s inside that really, really counted.

“This bad boy has all the shit that HYDRA’s been skeemin’ all up in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s system. I- well.”

“I actually have 2 of these, but, ah. One’s already on the way to ole’ Saint Nick.”

You brushed a hand through your hair. It’s grown quite a bit and in need of trimming.

“Because if there’s one thing I know for sure about S.H.I.E.L.D.? Nick ain’t apart of HYDRA, no matter how much of a scumbag he is. And, really… I’d like to think I trust him to handle this situation properly- more so than anyone else but me and my dad. Obviously, dad can’t- he can’t ever know about… About this.”

Despite referring to the USB in your hands, your words were heavy nonetheless. It wasn’t just the flash drive you were referring to.

“So Fury’s getting the other bad boy. Worth millions, and 2 of a kind, too.”

“Well, I sent it to the bastard. Hopefully, he doesn’t trash it, or whatever. Soon.”

You hummed. Setting the USB down on the table, you made direct eye contact with the camera and posed with pouty lips. You threw up a peace sign ironically and grinned.

“Well, that’s that. Oh, and Clint vomited on Steve’s clothes yesterday. Not important, but funny nonetheless. Deuces!”

…

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “dahlia we don’t have the fucking time for this get the damn suit”, date created: 11-29-2013.]

…

…

“Hi.”

You’re still in your school clothes that day, a simple sweater and sweatpants. Your letterman is hanging on the back of your seat for going to the robotics competitions your school had. 

The timestamp also indicates that you had just gotten out of school too- though, it is considerably dark outside. Snowing that day, most likely. And still is, probably.

“So, uh. Fury got the message, I think.”

You spun around in your chair, knees up to your chest.

“Usually we’re getting harassed by him every now and then to do missions, but Natasha just came home yesterday sayin’, like. ‘Fury’s put my mission on hold’, or something.”

“He doesn’t know I sent it to him, I think. But. Thing’s’re getting pret-ty serious now, huh.”

You shrugged.

“Well, whatever. I didn’t come here to talk about Fury, though. I came here to update on, ah, a few things.”

“I know I haven’t touched base with- well, you,” You gave the camera a saucy wink, “about a lot of my projects so far. So, here are a few that I’ve been thinking of implementing.”

A picture is pulled up from your desktop. It’s an aerial shot of a brunet talking to his friend, both of a juvenile appearance. There’s another picture, a 3D generated image of a red and blue suit.

“So. Peter Parker.”

Sigh.

“I… really, really, really don’t want him to be involved in any of this. No superhero bullshit, no nothing.”

“He’s young. He doesn’t- doesn’t need to be involved with this mess. I just… I just want him to have a normal life.”

‘One I never got to have; one he’ll never get to have,’ goes unsaid, but you continued on.

“But… By my reasoning, I am… Hypocritical in my justification.”

You paused, frowning as you look at the picture long and hard. When you speak up, your voice is noticeably quieter.

“He was just as old as I was when I started this whole Apex mantle thing. Hell, he might’ve been older. Will be older. And quite frankly, I can’t stop him even if I wanted to. He’ll still do it, still go out and fight and just-...”

“He’ll do it unsupervised, and that’s what scares me the most.”

You mumble under your breath, “He reminds me too much of… Me. Young, dumb, and reckless as all hell.”

You shook your head and pulled up another file. This one’s a text file, and it’s detailed enough to go on for pages and pages, but clearly there’s more to be added.

“So, what I’m hoping to do is… Start an internship program. Start- start him early. The sooner, the better control he’ll have over his powers. The better experience he’ll get. And, of course, with the additional benefits of, well. Being in an actual internship program.”

“What that will intel? I don’t know. But I think… I think both the students and SI can- can benefit off of that.”

“So, that was one of my projects. Another one is about, well.”

You swallowed hard for this one.

“Extremis.”

You held your hands up as if trying to halt the camera- even the viewer- from freaking out.

“Listen, look, I know, I know- ‘oh, Extremis is already stabilized, oh, why mess with it even more, oh, just leave it alone it’ll make you explode into a thousand firecrackers, oh’- I get it. I know.”

“But… Listen to me.”

“I really, really do think Hansen was onto something with Extremis, no matter how evil and fucked up it is now. It… With a little bit of love and care, I really do think it can help. Maybe not- not on a mass-production scale- or for commercial use, period- but still.”

You licked your lips, eyes flickering to a picture of you, Tony, and Rhodey eating ice cream on your desk.

“I… It can be a last resort type of thing. It- it has the potential. So, so much potential.”

You chuckled to yourself.

“Well, it’s not like you- whoever else that isn’t me that’s watching this- can convince me otherwise. Don’t worry, no live subjects. No evil scientist bull, just… Just trust me, please.”

It’s unclear who exactly you’re referring to, but it’s as if there’s a specific person you’re trying to plead with despite knowing that no matter what, this footage- along with the rest- will be forever condemned to rest in the grave that is DAHLIA’s protected database.

“So, yeah. Working a little bit on Extremis. Um, I wish I could say that the next projects are more- light-hearted, but. Not really, no.”

“I’m… Well, there’s no easy way to say this: I’m thinking of filing a class-action lawsuit on Ross.”

And with that bombshell of an announcement to the camera, the Avengers alert rang across the building.

“Fuck- DAHLIA, end it- put me on comms!”

…

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “i am so mad i didn’t think about this before dahlia change the mission objective”, date created: 12-18-2013.]

…

...

“Would you believe me if I said I completely forgot about these whole video log things?”

Your back is turned to the camera, completely shirtless and hair dripping wet. You’re texting someone, and you’re typing a little bit furiously. The camera catches the other person sending a cat picture. You huff, but turn your phone off and set it to the side.

“So. Ross.”

You shake your head.

“Sorry to drop a bombshell like that on you,” you quietly address the camera, “then disappear on a mission, but-”

“There’s nothing concrete now. Just- it’s just an idea. I think…”

“I think Bruce would like it. There’s- there’s a lot of dirt on Ross. So much shit that can get him life, too. Maybe even death if we play our cards right, but… I want that bastard to suffer. And quite frankly, if I can get rid of him now, the better the Avengers will be in the future.”

You rolled your shoulders, a satisfying crack echoes from you and you grinned for a moment, before smoothing your face out into something more neutral. You leaned back in your chair, and take a breather.

“So, uh. It’s been… Over a month, I’d say? Since I started these whole video logs. Um… No traces on Barnes. It’s…”

You glance up at the ceiling with a pained expression.

“It’s frustrating as hell. You’d think, with access to a majority, if not all of the satellites and cameras and whatnot, we’d find him easier…”

“It’s like he’s not even doing anything, at all. No missions, no assassinations or whatever… Nothing. Nada. It’s like… It’s like he’s not even being deplo-”

You paused. It’s clear that the gears inside your head are turning. You narrowed your eyes, a smile threatening to break out as you reached towards the camera buttons.

“Sonnofabitch.”

…

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “i won’t let history repeat again starting with him”, date created: 12-29-2013.]

…

...

“So. I’m, uh, major update.”

Unlike the previous video logs where you were in your lab, this one is different. The camera is a lot closer to your face and from a bottom perspective as you hold the camera. 

You’ve got part of your helmet, chest plate, shoulders, gauntlets, and presumably your boots still on as your steps are heavy and clanking. There’s blood smeared across your forehead. You’re slightly out of breath as you glance at something outside of the camera’s perspective.

Around you, the view is shaky and it’s unclear where you’re walking. None of the interior decors indicates that you’re in the tower- in fact, it’s barren and empty.

You glance down at the camera view.

“Remember the last log? Well, I uh, sort of had an epiphany, if you will.”

You continue walking, but you’ve reached a door mechanism. You punch in some numbers and continue talking as the doors open wide.

“It was strange, that I got no hits of a Winter Soldier stalking around anywhere. Sure, he’s a trained spy and killer, but no one’s that slick- not even Natasha, as much as she thinks otherwise.”

You’re in an elevator now, catching your breath slightly as you drew your eyebrows together. There’s a dinging noise, indicating the floors you’re ascending- or descending, as it’s unclear what story you’re on.

“It was like there was no Winter Soldier; at least, no active one.”

“That got me thinking. He’s- what- from the 20’s? He should’ve been, say, early thirties, so 31? 32? At the time he went missing, anyways. But the thing is… Even in the future, the man looks barely in his late thirties. Barely.”

You tap your feet impatiently, boots echoing in the small space.

“But he’s been the Winter Soldier for, what, almost 70 years? Shit don’t add up.”

“So, while he’s practically responsible for so many goddamn murders, he’s probably not always… Awake. Active. I was thinking, shit, if he ain’t up and about right now, where the hell is he?”

“So I did some more digging. Found a Winter Soldier file in S.H.I.E.L.D.- er, HYDRA’s database. There’s… A bunch. Of the Winter Soldiers, I mean. But none of them were- was Barnes. Just a bunch of knock offs.”

You glance up at the floor indicator. The camera shifts and the numbers blink downwards.

 -3… -4… -5...

“But I found something interestin’. There’s a- a list. Of HYDRA bases. Had no idea what they were for, but I took a hot guess.”

“One of them was Siberia. First one I went to- no Barnes. A bunch of other Winter Soldiers, though. The failed ones.”

“I…”

There’s a moment of hesitation, unsure if you should say what you’re about to say.

“I shot them dead.”

The ball drops just as the elevator dings, doors opening as you stepped out with a confidence that doesn’t match the remorse in your eyes.

“It’s. Look, I know it- that’s fucking. Insane. Inhumane. Murder. I don’t care. It’s- it’s too goddamn dangerous, having them- alive! I don’t know if there was any- any redemption for them.”

“But in the end, they- they were willing soldiers for HYDRA. The best, even. Anyone who- who willingly works for HYDRA… I’m not too sure I can trust them.”

You growled.

“Shit, I trusted Maximoff… And look where that got us.”

“I’m not fucking risking it with them.”

You shook your head, face smoothing out so it’s only the stressed wrinkles on your forehead that’s present. Your eyes soften minutely so.

“But for Barnes… There’s a chance. He’s a goddamn POW, and… If Shuri succeeded in getting rid of the trigger words, then there’s. A. Chance.”

“And… I’m willing to take that risk with him.”

The camera shifts, staring directly at the underside of your jaw. You cough and recalibrate the camera so it’s at a better angle.

“Anyways.”

“I… I went down the list. Of the bases? I didn’t- didn’t infiltrate them per se. It’s too risky- a majority of those bases are major ones. So I just… Snuck around. Looked at the infrastructure for anything that remotely looked like a certain Winter Soldier would be in.”

You stopped walking, now staring directly at something behind the camera. Your lips are pressed in a grim line.

“And I hit the jackpot.”

You should be happy about it if you took those words out of context, but your expression is far from it. Guilt, pity, and an earthly weariness mares your eyes as you huff.

“Everybody, say hi to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.”

The camera view flips, and in the front stage center is a big chamber, similar to that of a hulk play box. But while it is smaller, the glass is noticeably thicker. In the corner, outside of the chamber, is Mark 22 standing eerily still with its glowing eyes trained on Barnes. It’s in a neutral stance, but it’s clear that it won’t hesitate to incapacitate the soldier if it came down to it.

And on the furthest wall inside the chamber is Barnes, slumped on the ground with a pool of water around him. He’s wet as well, but unconscious. He’s in his military tactical gear, too, though there are no weapons visible on him.

The microphone picks up your sigh.

“I… I don’t know what to do with him. I- I saw the fucking- freezer they kept him in, but. It was a quick operation- I had no time to get the damn thing out without them- HYDRA- noticing me. So. Guess that throws out the plan to keep him- frozen like a popsicle until further notice.”

Barnes twitches slightly, and his fingers move. There’s an audible grunt, and your breath hitches as you swerve the camera back on you. Your eyes are wide, and you throw the camera a nervous grin that’s more akin to a grimace. In the background, your suit whirs to life.

You gave a nod to the camera.

“Wish me luck.”

…

…

[Video end.]

[Play again?]

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit, @tonystanktheirondad, @ludwigvonbaethoven​, @fabledxmystery

[jiminiessipabo]

I, Spy (Series, AU)

Chapter Two: The Interrogation 

Pairing: CEO! Park Jimin x reader Word Count: 1.9k Genre: au, ceo!, action, heist Warnings: explicit, smut (eventually), language, violence, drugs

Jimin could feel the smooth, velvety feel of a blindfold tied around his head, blocking any light and sight. He tried to get a bearing of where he was but it was hard without his sight. There was no smell in the air other than metal. He tried to move his hands from his awkward position but found they were chained up and resting on a cool, metallic table. The chains were loud as the clanged against the table. He couldn’t hear anything else. There was no one in the room with him. He was alone.

There were a rush of memories from the night before, or perhaps it was still the same night. He had no idea how long he was unconscious for. He could remember the beautiful red dress he saw you wearing last night. He remembered how he followed you around, danced with you, drank with you and laughed with you. It was one of the best nights of his life. He felt as though he couldn’t get enough of you, but evidently, that was his biggest downfall, trusting a stranger. Moments before he became unconscious, he remembered the look of concern on your face, your hand in his. The alcohol was making him feel hot all over. He remembered looking up at you with a dizzy yet euphoric feeling, you were so beautiful to him and he knew everyone at the event agreed with him, he had watched how their eyes had followed you, just as he had. When you looked back at him, just before he fell, you had given him a smile. He didn’t recognise the type of smile at that moment, but looking back now…He knew you had given him a smile filled with guilt and pity.

You seemed so good, so why were you doing this to him? Why did you drug him? Lie to him? What did he do to deserve such cruelty?

Jimin’s thoughts were broken as he heard the creaking of a door open before a loud slam followed. He jumped, his senses heightened, he listened carefully as he heard the pair of feet tap against the floor, walking closer to him. The second pair of steps belonged to someone wearing heels. He tensed, he could smell a familiar smell, almost rose scented with a hint of ginger. It was you.

“Park Jimin, 23, CEO of Park Enterprises, successor to his father, Park Jaehyun. He has an older brother who works in the Armed Police Force as well,” said a male voice, if he wasn’t in this position then Jimin would suggest he sounds like a man who was earthly, with his deep, guttural tone that was oddly calming. He heard the heels walk around the back of him, two hands resting on the back of the metal chair he was sat on. “I think he is the perfect candidate to use, Y/N,” said the man and also confirming Jimin’s suspicions that it was you. At least you gave him your real name. “He has connections that could make this whole operation quick and easy. It’ll be a simple mission for our team.”

Jimin frowned as much as he could at the man’s words. He was part of a mission now? Were these people part of law enforcement? It couldn’t be the police or he wouldn’t have mentioned Haechan, his brother, the way he had. Jimin wanted to speak up, but the threat that you were giving off, even from silently standing behind him, was enough to keep him from talking.

“Thank you, Taehyung, I will take it from here,” you replied, your voice solemn. You waited until Taehyung exited the room before ripping the blindfold from Jimin’s head, the light immediately hurting his eyes. By the time he had blinked enough to adjust to the sudden lighting he found himself staring across from you, who was now sat down opposite him. His eyes scanned your face, from the minimal makeup, to the now tied up hair, to the black, formal dress you wearing. You cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow at his scrutiny before smirking, amused at the expressions on his face. “Hello Jimin,” you said.

Jimin clenched his jaw, leaning forwards in his seat. “Let me go, now, I am not getting caught up in any schemes you criminals are trying to force on to me,” he said with clear venom in his tone. He scowled as the smirk on your face turned into a full smile. “What is so amusing to you?” He snapped.

You let out a small chuckle and brought his attention to the files on the table. “Haechan knows you’re here, we have surveillance on you 24/7, he watched as you slept in that chair, with no one else in this room to cause any harm to you,” you said, pointing to the left of you and sure enough, in the left corner on the ceiling was camera with a flash red light, showing it was recording. “There were certain rules we had to abide by to make sure your kidnapping went smoothly. I am aware of your allergies, I am aware of any mental health disabilities you have. Your brother is surprisingly very helpful, considering back in the day when I went to high school with him, he was a huge jerk,” you said with another chuckle at the end. Your eyes were narrowed down at the papers in the manila file.

Jimin was stumped by this knowledge. He didn’t know whether to feel slightly safer that his brother was watching him or betrayed that his brother would put him in this position. There is obviously the other thought that this could all be an elaborate lie and his brother has no knowledge of his kidnapping.

“I’m not lying, Jimin, I would never betray your brother like that,” you said as though reading his mind. “Now, I am Y/N L/N, my official title is Recruitment Officer and I work for ARMY, Advanced Reconnaissance for Mistreated Youths. You are still in Seoul, and you were knocked unconscious with a normal sedative, there are no weird enhancements like I know are going through your head-.” Jimin was astounded at how well you knew him after those short hours. “-and you are completely free to go once this meeting is over with.”

Jimin scoffed and lifted his arms up. “I attend a lot of meetings, even at my young age and never once has anyone been chained to a damn table in a containment room,” he replied, his tone edged with plentiful sarcasm.

You smiled and took a key from the manila folder, reaching over to unlock his chains. You sat back and watched as he rubbed at his wrists. You sighed, hating how your firm thought things through. “Jimin, look, I am going to be very honest with you, there is a bad man you are connected to and we need an insider for us. All you have to do is wear a mic piece and a body camera, both well-hidden and continue being nice with this man until we can gather enough evidence on him,” you said, your joyful façade breaking into one of weariness.

Jimin frowned, still looking down at his wrists. “Who is this man?” He asked, his tone betraying his curiosity.

You pulled out a few papers from one of the other manila folders, unclipping two of the pages before turning it around so he could see the face of the man he had come to trust. “Rufus Conway, the American,” he muttered under his breath before looking back up at you. “Why do you want him?”

You pursed your lips, turning the page and pointed at three photos. Jimin gasped, they were photos of- “He is a Kingpin of sorts, he deals in drugs, ammunition, and to our disgust, slavery and prostitution,” you spat out. “That’s three girls that we have recovered from them, two of which are now working with us. They have allowed us to share their identity in order to capture and imprison Rufus Conway,” you explained. You turned the page again. “We have suspicion that he is about to use your company to smuggle more girls over, I would rethink your plans to go ahead with your project, Jimin,” you said.

Jimin gulped and nodded, his eyes still reading the words on the pages. He felt sick, that he was about to embrace a man like this into his company. He looked up at you and saw the sadness on your face as much as you tried to hide it; you weren’t fond of looking at this file. “If I were to help you, what would be in it for me? Safety? Anonymity? Because it sounds like you’re asking me to risk a lot of things for this operation, my money, my company, my legacy and my life.” The entire time Jimin spoke he watched how you took his words deeply, nodding where appropriate and not once arguing or cutting him off. He felt equal to you, almost comfortable with you, just like before.

You placed your hands flat on the table and leaned forwards. “I am prepared to make sure you come out of this unscathed and with a clear conscience Jimin. I don’t want to involve you but we need you, now more than ever. We just need that little push to finally prosecute him. We have the lawyers working on cases already. It’s all ready to be launched. We just need you to be there when he confesses,” you explained as gently as you could. “You won’t be alone either,” you added, smiling at him.

Jimin furrowed his eyebrows, taking your words into consideration. “I won’t be alone?” He parroted, with a tilt of his head. “Who else is going to be with me?” He found himself asking, as though he had already agreed.

“You’re going to hire a new assistant, and you’re going to need a bodyguard. You were just kidnapped, by a man named Al Bbeck, it’s all over the news,” you said, a smile now on your face but Jimin wasn’t laughing.

“You think kidnapping me is funny, uh uh, I am furious that I am even in this position. I want proof that my brother knows I am here, I want to see him,” Jimin demanded, slamming his palm on the table making you jump, he almost felt guilty but his anger was getting the best of him.

You sighed and shook your head, collecting the manila file up also picking up the handcuffs and key. “I hope you agree to do this,” you murmured, not quite looking him in the eye before banging on the door. You looked back just as the door opened, not acknowledging the man on the other side holding it open. “For what it’s worth Jimin, I really would have loved to go back home with you, to really get to know you,” you said with a sincere smile before bowing your head.

The man holding the door open narrowed his eyes at Jimin before slamming the door shut, leaving Jimin to stand in the cold room alone. He eyed the room and saw a bed with a blanket and small pillow on it and huffed. “This is just great, who the hell is Al B Beck as well?” He questioned out loud before snorting at the famous Terminator quote. “Definitely youthful,” he grumbled before sitting on the edge of the bed, his head hitting the wall as he slumped back.

[motleymoose]

Lukewarm Endearments at Best

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Gender Neutral!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester (mention) Words: 2800+ Warnings: Flangst

It had been a long time coming.

Dad had always been a traveler. When he was home, he was a novelty to me, a stranger who was familiar yet so dang mysterious that it surprised me every single time my name came to his lips. Like, even as a little kid I didn’t think he’d know me from Adam unless I was right next to Mama.. And it wasn’t like I really knew him, either. How can you know someone who’s been on the road, away from you, for most of your life? Heck, when Mama passed, I didn’t even see him for at least 18 months.

Of course, he sauntered back into my life as if nothing had happened in that intervening year and a half, like I hadn’t been forced to become a responsible adult right on the cusp of 17, shirking high school, colleges and relationships in order to keep myself from drowning in debt and despair. I was angry, and I said some things I’m not proud to repeat. And like the distant, abstract saint that my father has always been, he stood there, stoically taking the tongue lashing I had saved up for him. Through all of it, I could feel my own grief growing deeper. I had lost my mother, but I realized I never really had a father to begin with. John Winchester had been a wandering canvas that I could project my ideals of fatherhood onto, and I had always been too caught up in my own little world to recognize that he was just as human as me.

Apparently a little too human. As I let my anger burn low and my voice grow quiet, Dad looked straight into my red-rimmed eyes and said he was sorry for what he was about to say. I told him that I wasn’t going to apologize for anything that I just told him, and he shook his head sadly.

“Listen, Y/N/N,” he started, and I watched as his eyes became distant and misty. “I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, and a huge part of it is how I’ve treated my family in the past.”

I snorted and began to speak, but he held up a hand to stop me. “Please, let me finish.”

“‘Kay,” I snapped.

He cleared his throat a little before continuing. “I’m not going to be around for much longer, and I want to know that, before I go, you are taken care of.”

“Oh, like you took care of me when Mama died? Thanks, but I‘m good.”

Dad flinched, his eyes darting guilty to his boots. “That couldn’t be help-”

My face grew hot. “‘Couldn’t be helped?’ Fucksake, Dad. You left us high and dry as soon as you heard the diagnosis!” I couldn’t be around him anymore, didn’t even want to be on the same planet I was so done with him. I forcefully concentrated on jamming my feet into my running shoes, fighting back the tears pressing behind my eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m going for a run, see yourself out.”

I slammed the door shut behind me, and that was the last time I ever saw my father.

-----

It wasn’t until last month that I’d read Dad had died. He’d been gone for over a decade. The obituary mentioned two surviving sons, but I was so caught up in probing the ancient scar of anger that my brain barely registered the fact. I found the old anger was weak from disuse, my coffee was cold, and I didn’t feel one damn thing either way about him. It was like reading the obits of a stranger. I felt no guilt, no anger, no grief, and I was able to quickly brush it off and carry on.

It didn’t hit me until a day later, in the middle of a crossword puzzle, that I had brothers.

After rereading Dad’s obituary, I decided to find these so-called brothers of mine. I guess I was lonely, and maybe some of the old anger was beginning to rekindle. I had a family of friends, those whom I could lean on when things got shitty, and I loved every one of them. But there was a kernel of curiosity planted in my brain, the urge to know who my brothers were and if they were anything at all like Dad… or me.

It wasn’t exactly simple to find my brothers but it wasn’t that difficult either; just like with me and Mama, Dad had set up his other family in a nice little neighborhood of a smaller city. White picket fence and everything. It didn’t last long, apparently. The house burned down with the wife still inside. But at least the kids got out alright and his precious car was saved. It was a deadend after that, no honor roll or sports write-ups mentioning a Sam or Dean Winchester could be found in any of my searches. Which was weird.

Weirder still was the FBI wanted list.

It wasn’t completely by accident that I stumbled upon Sam and Dean pouting lasciviously at the camera. Two photos, posted side by side in an archive buried under another archive stuck in a clunky footer menu. These files were hidden so deep in the government website that it took several days and one very long night to dig through all of the archived information. It was as if someone didn’t want anyone to find them. But there they were. No one could mistake the striking resemblance between me and the Winchester brothers. Same sharp nose, same alluring eyes, same crooked smile that must’ve broken at least a thousand hearts collectively. Obviously, I had better hair and fashion sense than either one of them, but that was all thanks to my mom.

Anyway, after the criminal reports came the death certificates. And after the death certificates and official police statements, I was at a loss for what to do. I knew in my gut that they were still out there, alive and raising Hell, but I couldn’t explain it nor find any evidence to disprove the official reports.

But after months and months of bum-diddly squat, a desperate hour of carnal need led me to something so fucking obvious, I wouldn’t have believed it if it has strolled up and bit me in the ass.

Dean Winchester was on Tinder.

Shrieking in surprise and triumph, I swiped right so fast that my finger would have left Grease Lightning in the dust. Yes, it was delightfully improper that I was pretending to not be related to him, but there wasn’t another option that came to mind to officially make his and Sam’s acquaintance. And I really wanted to compare notes on our father. And maybe punch one of them in the face. But I was beginning to get ahead of myself before I even got a response, my anxiety ratcheting my inner dialogue up to eleven.

<i>Aw hell,</i> I realized, this is a questionable and highly unorthodox way to meet your brothers in person. What if he swipes left? What if it’s not actually Dean but a catfish? It took a moment to scrub my mind of an actual catfish typing on a keyboard, but then I was back on track to berating myself. How could you think this plan was anything but sloppy at best? It’s almost inconceivable that-

bing!

The doubt dissipated as soon as I peeked at my phone.

Dean had swiped right!

Wait, Dean had swiped right. Which meant he was probably coming into this meeting with wildly different expectations than me. Dread trickled down my spine and into my already roiling stomach.

Thanks a lot, brain, I thought darkly, willfully ignoring the warnings flashing through my head. “No use in worrying about things that probably wouldn’t happen,” I growled. It was a quote that I often fell back on, but it never gave me any solace, probably because it was said by someone who had never had anxiety.

I shook the tension out of my hands before replying to his winky-kiss emoji. I bluntly suggested that we meet up at a tiny coffee shop not far from the main shopping district of a nearby town. If worse came to worst, at least I’d have a bunch of people at hand to witness my abduction.

***********************

A few hours and a double shot of whisky later, I was standing in line at the meeting place. I’d just given the barista my order when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

“Y/N?�� Dean asked quietly, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. He’d sidled up beside me while I had been making small talk with the barista, taking me slightly by surprise.

“You must be Dean, then!” I said, a little too brightly. Rein it in, Y/L/N, I chided myself. Readjusting my features, I gave him a pleasantly bland smile and gestured for him to order. After he was finished, he paid for both our drinks and took the lead to a table in a shadowy corner of the coffee shop. Plunking himself down in the booth, he gave a casual stretch and motioned for me to join him.

I pasted on another innocuous smile and took the seat opposite him. He shrugged off the slight and leaned forward, arms resting on the table. His entire body language was so overly nonchalant I was afraid he was going to fall asleep. “So tell me about yourself, Y/N,” his voice was soft and warm, his eyes twinkling suggestively.

Yep, big nope and a nuh-uh, that’s gotta stop. “Well, I’m a librarian by trade, I’m a cat person who also happens to be a Sagittarius, and,” I caught my breath, my brain hunting for something a little less blunt than ‘you’re my brother.’ “You're my brother.” The words fell out of my fucking mouth before I even had a chance to soften the blow. It took me months to find these guys, and my big mouth goes and forgets all forms of subtlety. The anger and frustration at Dad had built up so much inside me that I was having a hard time controlling my feelings, and now I could add embarrassment to the pile. And I never not have control over my feelings. Sometimes.

Dean sat back, stunned. He started to speak, fumbled over several words, and then shut his mouth. I waited patiently while his brain processed the information. It took a few minutes for him to break the silence. “I gotta make a phone call.” Dean stood up from the booth, shaking his head in disbelief, and stepped away from the table as he tapped something into his phone.

“No worries, I’ll be here when you get back.” I waved to him, all innocence and sweetness. He glanced back at me with furrowed brows and stomped off, whispering aggressively into his phone.

“That went better than expected,” I muttered to myself as I happily accepted our coffees from a rather bemused waiter.

***********************

Half an hour later, Dean returned. He didn’t look at all surprised that I had drank his coffee for him, only a little hurt. I would have pointed out that I’d saved him the trouble of finding it lukewarm and bitter, but the tension in the air was so thick around him that I thought better of it. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of Sam, the younger brother, ducking through the door and giving the baristas a friendly wave.

“Ooh, are we having a family reunion?” I sniped, feeling annoyed that I hadn’t even had a conversation with Dean yet and he was already calling in for backup. “You’ll have to excuse me for my earlier remarks, but I don’t like to beat around the bush.”

He quirked an eyebrow at Sam and frowned. The taller one rolled his eyes and took the chair beside me. Dean slid back into the booth. I was surrounded, but that didn’t matter. What mattered most was confirmation. And I wasn’t going to get that by just staring at them. I opened my mouth to speak, but Sam beat me to it.

“This is… quite the claim, Y/N,” he started, kindly. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process having another sibling. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that it isn’t possible-”

Dean butted in, gruffly. “What my brother is getting at is that this isn’t exactly our first rodeo.”

Sam looked at him in worn exasperation, but shook off the comment. “Like I was saying, it isn’t impossible that you could be a long lost sibling, but… do you have any proof?”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the few pictures I had of Dad and me, plus photos of him and Mama I had shot when they weren’t paying attention. A knot was forming in my throat, but I forced it back down with a sip of ice water.

Sam and Dean each took a few of the photos, riffling through them like they weren’t my only link to a man that I barely knew. Dean stopped at one and nudged Sam. It was the one of me and my mom standing in front of Dad’s black muscle car, big grins pasted on our faces and dripping snow cones melting in our hands. I was 13 and still enamored with the idea of having a traveling father, too self-centered and self-conscious to think about the reason why he wasn’t around like all the other dads. The bittersweet memories of disappointment and otherness began to creep into my brain, sewing the chaos of sadness in their wake.

Taking a gulp of the ice water, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand to cover the frown pulling at the corners of my mouth. “That’s at the county fair. It was one of the longest times I’d remember ever being around him,” I said with a not-so-subtle tinge of bitterness in my voice. “He wasn’t exactly the type to come to the all-school play, or even stick around for more than a weekend.”

The brothers exchanged a look again. I was starting to get annoyed with that look; it was a secret language between siblings that I had never gotten the chance to experience because my father had kept us secret from one another. He had known that we all existed, had even <i>lived</i> with his two families at different times, apparently. I had never thought of Dad as selfish before, but the more I thought about it, the more I could see that he was just as much of a bastard as I had believed since reaching adulthood. The angry part of me was beginning to confuse the more rational side of my brain, and I needed to get the answers I sought before my inner voices started a war inside my head.

While I sat there fighting with my inner, angrier self, Sam and Dean had been in quiet conversation, heads bent close over the picture. Dean flipped it over to the other side, and frowned at my mom’s scrawled writing on the back. “This says it was taken in the summer of ‘94, which means you’re…” he stopped, forehead scrunched as he concentrated on his fingers.

“I’m about to turn 39, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out,” I replied, my knees bouncing from the stress and anxiety ravaging my nervous system.

Dean’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “That can’t be right. Sammy? Right?” I could tell he was floored by the math. If I was 38, that meant I was born between their birthdays. And if that was the case, Dad had a lot more to answer for than just being crappy at his parental role.

Sorting through the photos again, Sam didn’t respond right away. He was lining them up in chronological order, studiously checking every detail.

“Sam!” Dean said sharply, nudging his brother’s elbow.

“Huh? Oh, right.” Sam’s eyes refocused on my face, but I could tell he wasn’t really seeing me. The evidence of my existence was plain on my features, and they would have to be fools to not see my resemblance to our father.

After a while, I began to get fidgety again. “Listen, guys,” I said as I stood up and gathered my things. “It’s been a real pleasure, but it’s getting late. Besides,” pausing, I looked both of them square in the eyes, “I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss.”

Turning, I threaded my way to the exit and made it just outside the door when Dean caught up to me.

“Y/N, wait.” He tapped my shoulder again, and I pivoted to meet his gaze. “If what you say is true, and you are in fact family. Well,” he glanced back at Sam who was coming out behind him. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

[andrea-lyn]

For Malex, an au where they go on road trips to save aliens... whether or not they figured their shit out between them before or during is up to you

(like I mentioned, I went stray here, so they are saving aliens! through the rigorous process of record collection)

**

Colorado

Near Colorado Springs, they break into a facility near the Air Force base and discover what looks like an escape pod. It has some of the familiar components that Alex recognizes from Michael’s sketches and drawings. It’s a ship of its own and it clicks for him probably a few seconds after it does for Michael.

“Is this what you’ve been trying to rebuild?” Alex wonders out loud.

Numbly, Michael nods, like he can’t believe that he has a schematic to mimic. Alex doesn’t want to think about Michael leaving the planet, but faced with an actual escape pod, it’s hard not to. They take the escape pod out of the facility and load it up into their truck without any more conversation about what they’re going to do with it when they get back.

It’s their third stop on a grand tour of suspected sites they’re checking out. By all rights, these are abandoned sites now that Jesse’s support of Project Shepherd has dried up, but after Caulfield, they both know it’s better safe than sorry to make that assumption.

It’s why Alex has a gun and they have a rule.

If something looks like it’s a bad idea, then they both need to get the hell out of there before they end up blowing yet another building sky-high because they were impetuous and short-sighted and emotional. It’s bad enough they did that to their relationship the first time around. So far, they’ve stuck to that rule and it’s been serving them well. It’s also allowed them to survive the road trip, so far.

This trip is meant to serve a few purposes, namely three that Alex can specifically name. The first is checking to see that all the sites are closed down. The second is to see if anyone is still out there furthering Jesse’s cause.

The last and most terrifying point of this trip?

“Nothing like some good old-fashioned therapy,” Michael calls it, sitting in the truck after they load up the escape pod. “You and me stuck in a truck for hours on end is bound to fix at least one or two things.”

“There’s always the tape deck,” Alex says, reaching for the glove compartment where Michael used to keep his tapes, only to find that the ribbon of every single one of them has been yanked out – on purpose. He gives Michael a glare, because he has a sneaking suspicion how that happened. “…Guerin.”

“I got tired of listening to Garth Brooks, so sue me,” Michael replies, whistling innocently as he keeps his eyes forward. The escape pod is in the bed of the truck next to the other artifacts they’ve picked up (nothing as sensational as the escape pod, but the box of files from Santa Fe and the schematics for a new facility from Pueblo are still better in their hands than in someone else’s).

They’re onto their next stop when suddenly Michael pulls off the highway in a frantic rush.

“What the fuck?” Alex snaps. “Guerin! Is someone trailing us? Did I miss someone?”

Michael says nothing, he just puts his foot down on the gas and keeps driving. Alex’s paranoia begins to increase and he wonders if he’d missed someone when they’d left the Colorado Springs facility until Michael parks in a mostly empty lot and Alex sees what the fuss is about.

Alex stares through the windshield, leaning all the way forward so he can see it all.

“Guerin,” Alex says flatly. “Did you just risk our lives merging through five lanes of traffic so you could see a bug?”

Michael’s out of the car in a flash, smirking at Alex as he heads for the placard in front of the gigantic looming thing. Sighing, Alex abandons the ruined tapes and decides that whatever weird obsession this is, he might as well entertain it. Heading out of the truck, he’s careful on his prosthetic as he follows Michael and comes to a stop near a sign that deems the bug ‘Herkimer’.

“It’s a bug.”

“Nah,” Michael says, “it’s not just a bug, it’s the world’s largest beetle. Have some respect, Alex.”

He shakes his head, not sure why he should be respecting anything. They have to keep driving North so they can hit Wyoming, but the moment he tries to open his mouth and say so, he stops when he sees the look of longing on Michael’s face as he stares at a bug.

He seriously can’t have that many complex emotions about the thing, can he?

“Max and Isobel, they always took road trips when they were kids. Max used to bring back postcards from all the roadside stops. I asked my foster father at the time if we could take a road trip that summer from Roswell up to Colorado. It wasn’t much, I figured. I even offered to pay for the gas. The drunk asshole actually promised it to me, too.”

Alex has a bad feeling he knows how this story ends, because Michael never came to school boasting about what he’d seen on his summer vacation.

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know,” Michael says dismissively, turning away from the beetle. “He wrecked his truck and told me it just wasn’t going to work out, because I was asking too much. I learned to stop doing that pretty quickly.” He’s already on his way back to the truck before Alex can react, not fond of the emotional whiplash, but also knowing that Michael’s done it on purpose to protect himself from appearing vulnerable.

Alex gives the beetle one last look, and he digs out his phone to take a selfie with it, figuring that maybe later, he can send it to Michael. It’s not like they’re going to have show and tell when they get back to Roswell, but at the same time, what’s the harm in a few road trip souvenirs that they can both share in?

*

Wyoming

In Wyoming, they raid a small office building in the early hours of the morning and find employment records dating back to the second world war. There are more names here than Alex feels comfortable with, but he takes pictures of every page as backup before he slides them back into their folders. That box of files earns a home beside the escape pod and nestled with the schematics, as chilling as anything else they’ve found.

“I need a drink,” Alex insists, even though he knows for a fact that Michael is trying his hardest to avoid alcohol and acetone. He feels guilty as soon as he’s said it, thinking that he can wait until he’s back in Roswell to go over the records with a glass of neat whiskey. He doesn’t need to shove that in Michael’s face.

Michael doesn’t seem too angry with Alex’s slip. “I think I’ve got something better.”

That’s how they wind up in Jackson in another beat-down parking lot without a soul in it, except for them. This time, Alex finds himself staring up at a very confusing World’s Largest, and he digs out his phone to look something up. “You know the internet says that there’s a bigger one in Texas,” Alex says, glancing up at the roadside attraction.

Who the hell would want to build the World’s Largest Ball of Barbed Wire?

“I guess everything’s gotta be bigger in Texas, even their torture devices.” It’s a bad joke, but Michael doesn’t look happy to crack it, scowling up at it even though he’s the one who decided they should come here.

Alex wonders if Michael is thinking about the torture devices that the Manes and Valenti dynasties used on his family, and if he’s not yet, he’s sure it’s only a matter of time. Action is required. He digs out his phone and gestures for Michael. “Come here,” he says.

Michael gives Alex and his phone a wary look, but ambles closer to him, leaning back against the small fence that stands between them and the barbed wire. “Don’t tell me Isobel got you into Instagram,” he pleads.

“Who says I’m not already huge there?” Alex deadpans, even though he knows better than to put that much information in a public domain and absolutely wouldn’t even think about putting the details of his and Michael’s journey anywhere online. His location has been off since Roswell and while it’s not a burner phone, he does intend to destroy the sim card when this is all said and done. “Come here,” he says again, and gestures for Michael get close to him.

Michael drifts in close enough that Alex can smell the faint hint of his bodywash. For one brief moment, he closes his eyes and inhales, lets that smell of safety, security, and home wash over him. Then, he opens his eyes and gets the front-facing camera ready, pressed shoulder to shoulder with the barbed wire sticking out in the background. Michael’s smiling, even if he looks like he doesn’t believe that they’re doing this, and Alex looks smugly proud.

It’s a great picture.

“Come on, I think I saw a diner back a few exits,” Michael says, his gaze lingering over Alex before he finally steps away. “You can get a beer, I’ll get a milkshake.”

“Is it Wyoming’s biggest?”

Michael licks his lips, and he climbs on the truck’s step, leaning over it as he looks at Alex. “Doubt it, but I bet you that if you’re there with me, it’ll definitely be Wyoming’s best.”

He ducks into the truck, which is good because it means he misses the flush Alex gets in his cheeks. Staring down at the picture in front of the barbed wire, Alex sees the way Michael’s turned his head a little for the photo and how he’s staring reverently at Alex, a half-lidded look in his eye, like he’s suddenly remembered Alex is there, like he thinks he might want to kiss him.

Alex remembers all those looks enough to feel like the expert when it comes to Michael Guerin when he wants to kiss him. Maybe at the end of all this, when they’ve worked through the question of whether they can even do this together, he’ll get that back.

For now, he’ll stick with giant barbed wire and milkshakes.

*

New Mexico

They loop back around and take the long way home, finally hitting Alamogordo in the early hours of the morning. Alex had fallen asleep to the sound of Michael humming, not the greatest substitute for the broken tapes, but really not so bad.

(If he stops lying, he’d admit that it’s the best sound in the world)

“Hey,” Alex says, after checking his phone to make sure that he’s got the information right. The search had been a bust. Whatever had once been in the jail is long gone, which is both good news and bad – it means that no one’s committing any heinous crimes, but their information is out of date, so who knows what else might be wrong.

They’ve just finished dinner and they’re in the middle of the drive back. Alex had woken up from his nap to see a roadside sign passing and it had been almost perfect timing.

“Take the next exit,” he insists.

Michael gives Alex a wary look, but the amount of unspoken trust he has in Alex is clear when he takes the exit without a single other question about why he’s doing it. Alex smiles proudly when Michael doesn’t ask for directions, clearly understanding what they’ve turned off to see.

He parks them as close as they can get to what a sign proclaims the World’s Largest Pistachio and the grin on Michael’s face is worth everything in the world. He’s out of the car and he’s the one who calls Alex over so they can take a picture.

This time, Alex makes sure that when he clicks the button, he’s the one staring at Michael like he’s the incredible roadside attraction instead of the weird pistachio behind them. It’s such a stupid thing, and it means nothing, and at the same time, being here to look at this tourist trap means everything to him because of how isolated and abandoned it is.

It’s like it’s a monument built for them alone and they’d better appreciate it, because no one else will.

“Thanks, Alex,” Michael says. “I’m nuts about it.”

He’s smirking and clearly proud of his stupid pun. The shame of it is that so’s Alex, because he’s grinning at him and thinking that maybe this trip is something they both needed. They’ve been sharing motel rooms, but sleeping in separate beds. They sit on the same side of the booth at diners and pick off one another’s plates, but they haven’t kissed or touched or fucked.

Yet, this trip has felt like one of the most intimate things he’s ever done.

The rest of the drive home is filled with light conversation as they swap stories about the days in Roswell before Michael turned up. Alex tells him stories about Max and Isobel in elementary school, like how Isobel had managed to make herself a little cult that had to wear glitter on Thursdays or how Max had constantly submitted awful romantic poems to the literary digest (and since no one else did, they were all his).

Michael tells Alex about high school and the things Alex hadn’t noticed, like how he’d used his powers to fuck with Kyle – including the time Kyle had tripped on the bleachers and wound up with a melon-sized bruise on his ass for a week. He’s laughing so hard that his stomach hurts and though Kyle’s his friend now, he’s so grateful to find out that there’d been some vindication back then, even if they’d all had to treat them as accidents.

They reach Roswell in the early evening.

Michael drives Alex to his cabin so they can drop off all the rescued pieces in the basement where they’ll be protected by Alex’s new state-of-the-art security system. Once they’ve unloaded everything, Alex feels himself searching desperately for any excuse for Michael not to leave. “You know,” he says. “I bet you Roswell’s got something.”

Michael glances up from where he’s been hanging around by the door, checking on the escape pod for the tenth time (which is why Alex feels pretty confident that he doesn’t want to go either).

All that time together and it’s shown them that they don’t actually want to be apart. The pieces want to be together. It just turns out that maybe they’re a pair of stubborn asshole pieces who can’t admit to it, not until they go on a three-week road trip around the Southwest to look for alien artifacts and proof that Project Shepherd is dust.

“Roswell’s got plenty of shit. You might have to get more specific than that,” Michael replies, not following.

“I mean, of the biggest,” Alex says, seeing as Michael had started that pattern. “Or are you telling me that you can die happy now that you’ve seen the world’s biggest beetle,” he deadpans.

Michael considers that for a moment, prying his cowboy hat off his head as he moseys Alex’s way, slow and steady, an amused smirk on his lips. It’s the smile of a man who has something clever he wants to say, but he’s the only one thinking it’s any kind of clever at all.

“Well,” he begins, considerately, “there is always the city’s biggest dick that you could take a look at,” he drawls, with an inclination of his gaze down towards his belt buckle.

Two can play that game.

“Oh?” Alex replies easily. “Is Kyle back in town?”

He’s lucky that Michael laughs instead of the scowl he’d half been expecting, but what Alex hadn’t anticipated is the way that Michael slides his fingers around Alex’s neck for a kiss that he’s been waiting for since they first set out on the road trip. He’s so proud of them for being mature and talking, making things work while acknowledging that they don’t have to get physical, but god, has Alex missed being kissed by Michael.

He tangles his fingers in Michael’s curls, grabs hold and squeezes the soft curls in his hands as he kisses Michael back, fully aware that he’s being shut up for making bad jokes, but definitely not mad with this punishment. Maybe they can’t compete for some of the world’s biggest anythings that they’ve seen, but Alex is counting the world’s longest kiss one of these days, and if he can’t manage that, then maybe he’ll go for the world record when it comes to kissing the man you love.

Not that he wants anyone stopping to take pictures of that, so maybe that’s one of those feats that’s best kept to themselves.

[softstraykidsimagines]

Variety show

Summary: You and Jeongin, by some happy (or not?) coincidence, ended up on the same variety show, but could you both keep your relationship a secret with prying questions?

Requested: yes

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, idol AU

Word count: 3.5k words

Warnings: written at 11pm, so probs sometimes weird sounding and im too tired to check

A/N: 1) don’t even ask me abt the group name idek what i was thinking. 2) DAmn sON i didn’t mean to make it this long. 3) fun fact: at first this was gonna be a comedic bulletpoint story, then i changed it to a feeble emotional roller coaster (i really do mean feeble af). 4) i hope you like it <33

MASTERLIST

“Please welcome our wonderful guests, Five Times Brighter!!!”, called the MC, followed by the cheers from the audience. One by one your group members and yourself filed out onto the small stage to greet the crowd. You were quickly ushered into a seat, where you could witness the sheer amount of people who had come to watch, obscured slightly by the blinding glare of the stage lights.

You felt your throat tighten. This better work out, you thought, feeling ill at ease by knowing there must have been at least ten cameras pointed at you and your comrades. What would we do if anyone found out? You shook your head violently with a pout. Stop it. Nothing’s gonna happen. You’re overreacting...

You were jolted out of your thoughts by the voice of the MC as he raised his voice again. “And now please welcome the rookie legends themselves! The great award winners, Stray Kids!!!” The room erupted into screams of fans as the nine handsome boys jogged out from backstage.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. Don’t make eye contact! If you do, someone will definitely notice!! Then you’re finished!!! You mentally slapped yourself and took a deep breath. You then realized that you’d placed your index and middle finger against your throat, an uncanny imitation of Felix taking his pulse as he became nervous. You’d somehow picked up the habit from the cute Aussie boy as you hung out with him at the same time as Jeongin. With a gulp, you slammed your hand back onto your lap and stared unemotionally at the boys as they sat on the other couch across from you from the MC’s center chair.

When everyone had sat down, the room went annoyingly quiet. You swallowed back anger as you waited for the MC to ask something and distract you. Finally:

“First, I’d like to ask both groups if they could tell us what inspired certain songs in their album”. Some applause followed as you forced your muscles to relax. “Should we ask FTB first?” The crowd cheered.

Your smile started becoming a little more genuine. Nothing bad, just a mindless answer to your average question. The ‘What inspired you to write X’ question was always a default for some reason. But at least it was eas-

“Y/n!” The blood drained from your face at your name. Oh... oh no... “A little birdie told me”, the MC said cheekily, “that you wrote one of the most successful songs on the album. ‘Winged love’, wasn’t it?”

You started to loath the MC, or whoever had decided that that specific question would be a good one. It’s true, you had written and composed the song, but your inspiration was exactly what you wanted to avoid, as your mind flashed to moment you got the idea for the lyrics.

~~~~~~~~~

“Try to pick your feet up a bit more here”, you said, poking Jeongin’s leg as he posed awkwardly in front of the practice room mirror. He groaned in retaliation, muscles trembling from exhaustion.

“I can’t do it”, he whined. “It’s useless. Just go on without me and practice on your own. You’ll do so much better without me dragging you down”.

You scoffed without any amusement. “Like Hell I will. I’m staying right here until you can get this. I said I’d help, so I’m helping”. He gave you a pitiful look, and you smiled softly. “Let’s take a break, then. I’ve got biscuits!”

“I don’t usually eat at this hour”, Jeongin said hesitantly.

“You don’t usually practice at this hour”, you answered matter-of-factually. You didn’t wait for an answer and dragged your boyfriend down to the floor, rolling to your side and grabbing a huge packet full of snacks and tearing it open mercilessly. You offered one to the boy in front of you, who conceded with a sigh. “Cheers!” You knocked your biscuit against his, making a couple of crumbs fall to the ground, and shoved the entire thing into your mouth. Jeongin stared at you until you made a face, cookie still lodged between your cheeks, making him burst into laughter. You fought not to spit your snack out as you sniggered with him.

“How do you do that”, he asked.

“Mmmfmm ru wha”, you said, still trying to down your food.

“Always find a way to make me feel so much better, no matter how battered I feel”, he said, mesmerized. You stared at him uselessly, so he continued. “When I’ve been at my worst, or when I’ve felt like giving up, you’ve been there to pick me up. You’re like my pair of wings”. You stayed quiet, scared to knock him out of his reverie. He smiled faintly. “At this point, I could jump off a mountain, trusting you to catch me if you said you would. And I always feel safe with you. No matter what scares me, I feel better when you’re next to me, as if you’ve become a hypothetical shield. And I want to be the same, I want to always be there for you, whenever you’re feeling down, I want to be the first person you think of going to”. He suddenly curled his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. “That was so cringey I’m sorry”.

You giggled softly and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s a little cliche, I admit. But it’s the best kind of cliche. Because I feel the same way”. You lifted your head kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be right here. And I’ll always trust you to be there too”.

~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes came back into focus, as your mind started racing, scrounging for a decent story that could convince the public that it had nothing to do with the very boy who was sitting only five feet from you.

“Uh-uhhh”, your mind became completely blank. “My... One of my old friends”. You cleared your throat. “Whenever she was upset, I would want to do anything to make her feel better. And I did do some pretty stupid things”. You smiled sheepishly at the pitch black half of the room where the fans giggled in reaction to your stutter. Your confidence grew as you continued: “The lyrics represent what I wanted to be to her. I wanted her to feel as if she could trust me with anything at all. As if I could always pick her up if she felt low”. You finished and prayed that it was enough.

The MC nodded, thoughtful. “So she never said the things in the lyrics out loud?”

You shook your head. “She wasn’t the most extroverted person”, you answered. “But I hope that that’s how she felt”. At that, everyone seemed satisfied and applauded. You bobbed your head, looking back at your clenched fists in your lap. I’ve gotta be more careful. One slip-up and I’m in deep-

“How about our favorite maknae”, the MC laughed, turning to SKZ. Your pulse went sky-high again.

-shit.

Jeongin let his eyes go wide, and pointed at himself. “Na?” He asked in an innocent voice. Despite your nerves going crazy, you managed to chuckled along with everyone else at the cute act.

The MC wasn’t an exception, though he quickly regained his posture. “Yes, I believe it was you who wrote the song ‘Midnight Walk’, am I correct?”

The boy nodded with a bright smile. “That’s right! And the first ever song where I wrote one hundred percent of the lyrics!!” He glowed with pride, and a secret burst of happiness for him shot through you. You could still remember when he’d told you about his accomplished goal.

~~~~~~~~~

You swung your hand, latched onto Jeongin’s, back and forth as you both strolled down an empty trail that ran along the Han River. “So?”, you prompted.

He looked back at you. “What?” He was playing innocent. Of course he was. You giggled and started swinging your connected hands even more, feeling blood rush through your slightly chilled fingers. Without speaking, you both started skipping forward, bumping each other and giggling like children. You loved that. That you could both move in sync without having to communicate. This continued until you pulled him to a stop.

“Okay, now actually tell me. What did you wanna say earlier. You looked as if you were about to explode with excitement”.

Jeongin grinned happily. “I...” he spoke excruciatingly slowly. “...have written.... my own song! And it’s gonna be on the next album!!!!!” At this, he picked you up and spun you around, until you felt too dizzy to stand on your own.

You laughed with him, and leaned on him. “Jeonginie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you”. You kept clinging onto him. “What’s it called?”

“I haven’t decided yet”, he confessed. He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I could name it after a fun memory with you? Without being too obvious, that is”.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think you could get away with it”.

And so he grinned broadly. “Okay, then. How about I call it midnight walk, after tonight?”

“Why tonight of all things? We’re just walking”, you asked incredulously.

“Because the simplest memories with you are the best”, he answered, squealing a bit at the overly sweet phrase.

You laughed. “Alright then. Are you allowed to spoil a few lyrics for me?”

“Of course”, said Jeongin, hoisting you up so that he was half carrying you. “It’s my song after all”. His voice went up a notch with happiness. “A few lines feel a bit random, without context; but just remember that I thought of you while writing them”. You hugged his arm until you thought you might be cutting his circulation. As you both kept walking, you slowly regained your balance and he listed a few lines from his oeuvre. That was the best walk at 1:30am you’d ever had.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeongin was still beaming at the MC, who began fanning himself dramatically. “His smile is so blinding”, he called, and there came calls of agreement from the audience. “But you still haven’t answered”. The room went silent again. “What inspired you to write the lyrics of ‘Midnight Walk’?”

Jeongin gave another dazzling smile. “It was a lot of different things; it took months of me scribbling down random ideas to be able to form something logical”.

The MC nodded again. “Of course, the lyrics do vary a lot. But I think we’re more interested in the more romantic sounding ones in the song”. The crowd ooh-ed, as if confirming the statement.

Your boyfriend grinned once more. “Well, those specific lines are dedicated to someone very special in my life”.

NO! You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from yelling aloud. He knew about the warnings, as well as you.

~~~~~~~~~

“Both Stray Kids and Five Times Brighter Will be on a variety show on the second weekend of the month”, stated one of your managers, standing next to JYP himself. Everyone nodded together as the schedule was recited in its entirety. It was all standard, except for the fact that the two groups had never been on a same show.

As the schedule came to its end, both groups dispersed to continue practice, but JYP called Jeongin and yourself aside. “I’d like to specify something”, he said in a tone that let you know that nothing good was coming. “When you’re both on that variety show in the middle of the month, I don’t even want you two to make eye contact. We don’t want anyone knowing about your relationship. I’m warning you now, keep it under wraps, and there won’t be any problems”.

You and Jeongin nodded, eyes round. As JYP finally walked away, you turned to your boyfriend. “Why the Hell does he want us to stay a secret?”, you failed terribly at keeping the anger out of your voice. “You’re allowed to be dating by now, so am I. No one needs to know that we started going out before my ban was up. So what’s his problem?”

Jeongin pulled you against him. “I don’t know, but let’s just do as he said. I don’t wanna think about what could happen if something goes wrong”. You eventually agreed, still grudging.

“It’s still unfair that we have to hide when we’re so happy”.

~~~~~~~~~

The memory raged in your mind, nearly as loud as the screams of shock that wracked the studio at Jeongin’s words. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, as he smiled calmly. Jeongin, what are you going??!!!!

“They’re dedicated to someone special in my life”. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Whom I’ve not met yet”. There was a collective gasp at the strange turn in his statement. “One day, I want to be able to say those things to the love of my life, on a walk at one in the morning”.

Everyone aah-ed in understanding, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him, but at least no one suspected anything anymore. And he’d very secretly hinted at the walk when he shared the lyrics with you, in the dead of night. Your heart swelled with warmth and love for the boy.

“Look at y/n, they’re blushing!”, yelled the MC. You were so shocked that you yelled out as everyone shouted teasingly. The MC started laughing. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular, y/n? Anyone you’d like to take a midnight walk with?” Electricity filled the air.

None of your damn business, you thought hotly. But of course it was. Your entire life was not yours to control, but the public’s. You made a face as if you’d swallowed a particularly sour lemon, which incidentally seemed to be a pretty good answer for the public.

“Apparently, y/n isn’t at all interested in a relationship”, chuckled the MC. He quickly continued with a bunch of other standard questions, and you imagined the different ways you could smack him and still get away with it. Maybe I should throw a bucket of water at him, then he wouldn’t be so obnoxiously happy, you thought, in your own world.

You werre making eye-contact with Jeongin, and realized with a start that you’d been staring at him this entire time. You checked that no one had remarked, but the cameras were strained on Changbin as he complained about being woken up too harshly by Woojin, to the amusement of most. You quickly stole another look at your boyfriend but, almost too subtle to notice, he shook his head, looking a bit panicky. You immediately understood and glanced elsewhere, trying to act interested in some tangled cables by a stage light.

When the questions had dragged on long enough to make your feet go numb, it was finally time for a game before the show came to an end. You stood up gratefully, hobbling a bit to get to stage right. You craned your neck to see what game you were meant to play against Stray Kids, and with a crashing wave of horror, you realized that Pocky Stick packets were sitting on the tiny stool near the stage wings. You saw from the corner of your eye that Jeongin was looking as displeased about the idea as you, even though everyone else seemed almost thrilled.

This is nuts, you kept repeating to yourself. Either I’ll have to play with one of SKZ, WHO KNOW JEONGIN AND I ARE DATING, or I play against Jeongin and people realize that we seem too comfortable. It’s a lose lose situation oh shit oh shit oh sh-

“How about the desert-fox-maknae and y/n, who seems so keen to avoid a little kiss!”, yelled the MC, who was tantalizingly close enough for you to punch. You faced Jeongin, who had become unusually pale, and you fought back your own panic as you were passed a Pocky Stick.

Your stomach churned as you both stared at each other, sweat beading at the hairline. Someone gave your shoulder a push --you didn’t know who, and you couldn’t force yourself to care-- and you bit into you end of the stick. Jeongin bit the other end and cheers rose in the crowd, deafening you and making your eyes water.

You weren’t sure how long you both kept staring at each other, but in the seconds --it could’ve been hours-- that Jeongin’s eyes bore into yours, something seemed to click in his mind, and he clenched his jaw with determination. You nibbled a bit of the Pocky Stick and noise in the room went up. Slowly the gap between your lips became smaller and smaller until you were close enough for you to hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours, pounding in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your senses completely abandoning you. We must be less than a centimeter apart! And then you felt a firm hand clasp your wrist. Before you could understand what was happening, Jeongin’s lips smacked against yours. But not by accident. This was with decision, the Pocky Stick forgotten. From habit, you kissed him back, your ears ringing. As you pulled away, you realized it had been him who had grabbed your wrist, and he’d put a the other hand on your waist to pull you closer. The ringing in your ears was from the screams that came from the audience.

Panic rose up in you again as what had happened sank in. We kissed... on live TV!! Your heart was in your throat. What’s going to happen to us? Jeongin said something that never made it to your ears, but looked something like ‘trust me’. He turned to everyone watching, now in a confused frenzy at what they’d witnessed. “Y/n and I are dating”, he stated simply, which was followed by an enormous uproar. He continued in a yell. “We weren’t meant to say anything, but I think it’s unfair that we have to keep our happiness a secret, just for the satisfaction of the public. So now you know!!!” His last words were drowned out by more screams of shock and confusion as you were both pulled off and away from stage.

You had become light-headed, everything becoming an incoherent blur as your receded into your own chaotic thoughts. What’s gonna happen what will JYP do to us will we be kicked out of the company oh god what if I become the reason for Jeongin leaving Stray Kids I couldn’t live with myself--

In your daze, you were pushed into a small waiting room. “Wait here”, said a gruff voice. I’m going to pass out! The world is tilting to the left! And now the right... Left.... Right.... You leaned against a wall and looked at Jeongin, who stared back at you, expressionless. After a few seconds, you started violently trembling.

“What are we going to do”, you breathed, more to yourself than to your boyfriend. “They’ll hate us, they’ll kick us out of the company! Why did you do that?” You had no anger in your voice as you stared at Jeongin, just helplessness. He walked over and wrapped his arms around you tightly but with a little tremor.

“I don’t know”, he confessed, and you sniffled slightly. “But I thought of what you’d said when we were told to stay quiet. We shouldn’t have to hide, especially because we’re so happy. I think if JYP wants to kick us out, let him”.

“No, no, Jeongin!” You let out a panicked sob. “What about the other boys? You can’t leave them, not just for me! What ever happens, you can’t leave Stray Kids!”

You both stood there, holding onto each other tightly, for a long time. After what felt like hours, you both sat down on the shiny floor of the tiny room, still not letting go of each other’s hands. You had calmed down now, and just sat quietly. Suddenly, Jeongin sat up and grabbed his phone. “What are you doing”, you asked, your voice slurred and muffled from exhaustion.

“The show was a live broadcast wasn’t it”, asked Jeongin. “And because it’s the evening, most of the world will have been awake. Which means...” He tapped the Twitter icon and the app came to life. He immediately went to the Trending page, and with a gasp, you saw #JeonginAndY/nDating on the second most popular tag.

“Oh my God”, you breathed. You didn’t think the effect would be so big. Before you could stop him, Jeongin tapped on the tag. You yelped and looked away, not wanting to see any of the awful comments people had made.

“Y/n...” Jeongin’s voice was laced with shock.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me it’s bad”, you say in despair.

“It’s... Everyone’s congratulating us!” Your eyes snapped open, and you swung your head around to glare at the bright screen. Thousands upon thousands of tweets had the trending hashtag, with people voicing their wishes of happiness for you as a couple, in English, Korean, you saw Spanish and french and Japanese. Message after message flashed by as Jeongin scrolled downwards. He started laughing; softly at first, then loudly, like a child how had received a special gift for Christmas. “They’re happy for us! Y/n they’re happy for us!!” He hugged you tightly as you laughed with him, more out of relief and exhaustion than anything else.

After a few more minutes, spent with you both bent over the phone and reading all the happy tweets, one of the staff came in to let you know that JYP was on his way to talk. “He didn’t sound as angry as we expected though, if that makes you feel a little better”, he said sympathetically. You thanked him as he wished you both luck and closed the door. And you turned back to Jeongin.

“You know... I don’t want to jinx it but... maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought”, you said apprehensively.

The boy hugged you tightly. “Well, no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Right?”

You smiled, thinking of ‘Midnight Walk’ and ‘Winged Love’. “Right”. You felt warm, think about the lyrics you’d both written, saying you’d never leave the love of your life.

Because it was true.

im sorry idek what the ending is anymore but eh this was the third draft soooo...

[midnight-watch-committee]

Story 1: what happened to Sheridan

Journalism, second period of the day, 9:34 in the morning., June 22nd, 2018.

There was a tv on in the class room, we always had the news on in there to help us, "a free cheat sheet if you use it right" as Mr. Haddison would call it. Every now and again people would be mildly interested in what was happening: law suits, politics, and murder for the morbid. A sudden gasp escaped from the girl next to me. Her name was Beth and if you saw her, you’d probably expect her to be a computer club kid. A headband kept her bright orange hair that almost looked fake from falling into her rounded, golden framed glasses, she was the youngest person in this room by about five minutes and she made sure you knew when you walked in, her sporadic and adventure seeking personality was as wild as the bright stickers on her laptop and pins on her shirt which told you every fandom she was in. She tapped me quickly on the shoulder, which was met by a cold “I’m busy,” but her insistent tapping eventually made me cave, as I looked up to what was shocking her, I realized why she gasped so loudly. “How do you lose an entire town?!” I said, or rather screamed. My friend Mikey quickly covered my mouth, expecting me to scream more about something or other, but I was more in shock than anything.  Mikey slowly moved his hand off my mouth and wiped it on his letterman jacket, “Could you be any louder?” he asks sarcastically, which I feel tempted to test but decide against it. Sheridan, Wyoming...”it was just there five minutes ago”, according to one of the people interviewed, a man who left town to grab a prescription from a nearby pharmacy. “Hey, Mike, how far is that” I asked. “Not crazy far-Juni, do you have another stupid idea?” he answered, already knowing what I was gonna say, “Just one...” I respond. “Dumb ideas? Like what, going to the crater formerly known as Sheridan? Juni, it’s gone, I’m sure the police are-” Beth started before getting shot a “shut the fuck up” look from Mikey. “What are the cops gonna do? IT’S GONE! If they plan on arresting us for looking at a hole in the ground, I’m sure a court will easily rule in our favor.” I spit out. “Jeez, fine! If you two are going, I’m tagging along to make sure you idiots don’t get hurt.” Beth said whipping out her phone “What time should I expect Mr. Can’t drive for shit to show up?” Mikey let out a chuckle. Not his “I found that funny” chuckle but a forced one, the kind you do when your sister tells a really bad joke but your mom shot you a look. “8:30, ditch the pink, we’re trespassing and we can’t repeat the O’Reily house incident.” She gave me a thumbs up, punched it into her phone and went back to her work.

The Vallen residence, 8:20 at night.

I looked in the mirror one last time, my jet-black hair an absolute mess but not like I’d ever bother fixing it. I decided to settle on a blue baseball cap to hide the rat’s nest. A black sleeveless jacket and torn blue jeans were my only real protection from anyone spotting my pale ass from a mile away. I checked the film on my grandfather’s, well mine now, camera. I gently trailed my finger over the weird markings that surround the outside of the camera. I heard my phone go off from the other room and darted over to it, slipping it in my jacket pocket and making a break for the door, pulling up my black face mask and hoping in the back of Mikey’s dark red pickup truck. He had some cheerleader girl up front with him and they clearly seemed to be taking a while so I gave the roof a few rough slaps. He rolled his window down and snapped “How many times do I have to say stop doing that before you fucking stop?” I rolled my eyes and laid down as we pulled off. I shot Beth a text letting her know we were on our way and took a nap for the 30 minuets it took to get to her place, she hopped in and checked to make sure I was still alive, trying to keep me awake so I was ready to do my job. I was the group photographer, Mike was the muscle and Beth was our pretty face who got everyone’s attention, I’d do more up-front stuff if it wasn’t for my social anxiety so for now that goes to Beth. “Did you check the film?” she asked, to which I nodded. “Good, good...how do I look?” I crack a smile and give her the trademark Beth Thumbs up ™, curving my thumb slightly to copy hers. She rolled her eyes and made sure her recorder was still working. There was something about the way the light hit her and the look in her eyes that left me stunned. Click! I snapped a quick picture of her and waved the film around, checking it. Perfect. I slipped it into my jacket pocket hoping she didn’t see me take it as the truck comes up on what was Sheridan.

Sheridan, Wyoming 8:50 at night.

We slowed to a halt a few inches away from the crater. “God, does he want us to get stuck in there?” I mumbled to Beth before hoping out, tapped on the window and gestured for him to back up. The vehicle rolled back and just as quickly as he reversed, he slammed down on the breaks, most likely giving poor Beth a major concussion. Mikey got out from the front, telling Sherri or Cherri or Cherry or whatever her name was to wait there, Beth started her audio recorder and we started our search. We walked around the perimeter of Former Sheridan, snapping photos of weird shaped rocks that seemed placed by something to hold the dirt back from reaching the middle and flowers that were left in the crater by those who thought everyone there was dead already, sitting in between all those flowers were four glowing blue rocks. “We should go in.” I blurt out, “I mean, when have we ever been scared to go into something? We’ve been in hospitals during outbreaks for Christ's sake!” Beth and Mikey look at each other, have a quick whisper debate that seems to end in Beth winning and sends Mikey back to the truck to grab some climbing equipment and set it up at the spot we were standing near. Beth offered me the rope and I accepted, sliding down all the way to the bottom of the crater, about 15 feet deep. “what the- HEY GUYS GET DOWN HERE!” I shouted, and started snapping pictures of a hole dug into the side of the crater...no, dug is wrong. There were bite marks on the outside of the hole. As if provoked by my camera, a gray, eight legged, slimy, insect shaped...CREATURE came charging out. It’s lack of eyes was amplified by it snarling, four toothed jaw. If you took of the tail of a scorpion and made it the size of a small building, you’d have this thing. The creature started stomping around the crater screeching. Legs brought up dust, chomping it up in the air. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” Beth screamed down into the hole and honestly, I didn’t know. I snapped a few more quick photos and broke for the rope, not wanting to be down there any longer. On my way up, I noticed the writing on the outside of the camera glowing, now readable as “Midnight watch committee.” As whatever the fuck that was screeched after us, we hoped in the truck and booked it, leaving cheer girl in wonder as to what we saw down there but we didn’t even have the sanity in that moment to describe it,.

Vallen residence, Midnight.

This thing was like something right out of some old country children’s tale. “Wait a minute...” I thought to myself, I flung open every filing cabinet in the attic, trying to find the old book my grandfather use to read to me from. My mom always hated it and time and time again told him to not read it to me, but he never listened. “The world’s a scary place,” he would say “nothing wrong with teaching her what to expect.” After maybe the 500th cabinet filled with pitch blackness, my hands bumped into the large leather-bound book. I blew the dust off it, remembering the last time I had ever had this read to me was when my mom was still alive. As if like magic, I open the book up to a random page and saw exactly what I was looking for, “The Earth Eater.” My jaw dropped reading everything in there, all the lives it had taken...but what really threw me off was...the book mentioned Sheridan’s disappearance. Did the author know? Was this some kind of joke? I set the book down on my Grandfather’s dark colored oak desk and went to bed, my mind still racing.

Bus ride from Vallen residence to Big Horn high school, 6:15, June 23rd, 2018

It was a cold early morning, but if you were up then, even in the pitch blackness, you would’ve seen the way the ground exploded near us as the Earth Eater rose from the ground, sending the bus flying. It felt like everything happened so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. I got sent flying into the seat next to me, like many others, and hit my arm against the seat hard enough to hear a loud cracking sound. It felt like every single nerve in my body dedicated itself to making me feel nothing but pain in my arm at that moment, as I tried to move it, I realized just how badly it had truly broken. The creature charged toward the bus, its none existent eyes locked on me I imagine, and for one last desperate attempt to make a story out of this, I pointed my camera at it the best I could through a window. A soft Click! Filled the air, followed by a vrrr as the camera pushed out a Polaroid, by the time the photo had made it to me, Earth Eater was gone, back to maybe one day return from whence it went, or maybe not at all.

[elfiesink]

Sands of Time Ch. 2

As is tradition... post fic chap here first? See if fic decent? Then I’ll post to ao3.

You didn’t remember what Overwatch was. You struggled, for a moment, to pinpoint where they existed, when you had forgotten them. But you couldn’t drag up any fragments. The most you had was the memory of the scent of ash and the taste of metal in the air. Which could, frankly, be anything. That could be literally any war. It didn’t even have to be a war. You could be remembering someone cooking back when it was done in a cast iron pot over an open fire. Your memories would never be cooperative if they could help it.

They were, military. You think. There was a war with the omnics and they ended it. It was enough to figure out where Gibraltar was. Enough tiny articles about the rumor of lights near an abandoned base. You were actually stunned by the lack of ‘ghost’ options presented by the internet. That was a go-to, wasn’t it? ‘This is a mysterious phenomena!’ It’s ghosts. ‘Weird sounds in our house!’ Ghosts. ‘Mysterious smells from nowhere!’ Ghosts. ‘Lights in the forest!’ Fae probably but humans liked to say ghosts. Ghosts were the most common supernatural force known to man. Ghosts were responsible for energy costs. Ghosts made your apples turn brown after you cut them.

Maybe you would find actual ghosts in Gibraltar. It’s a possibility.

You wander down the old road that leads to the base. Listening to the world around you, feeling as each mind slips out of your radius. You keep your senses tight around you. You don’t need to know how everyone in this sleepy town is feeling. You don’t want to lose yourself in a whirlwind of emotions that aren’t yours. Not that yours are very active.

There is a large door at the end of the road. It is not maintained, at least not as far as you can see. You cannot see any signs of life, even though you can sense something deep within the mountain, far from your physical reach. Can they see you? Are their cameras somewhere? You cling to the tablet as you search, suddenly becoming aware of how strange and suspicious you must seem. A stranger, with no luggage, no gear of any kind, snooping around the doors to a defunct military base. How could anyone know you were friend, not foe? If you even qualified as friend. More of, tentative ally.

Overwatch. You barely remembered what it even was. Part of you remembered a war, another one. This one against omnics. And then it was done, and Overwatch was hailed as the victor. Then you didn’t hear about them anymore. They were gone, another whisper that you would lose in a couple of years. But maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you would remember helping, if they let you.

Your only hope was that someone would come out to ask why you were there. What you were doing. You didn’t have an answer for them. You couldn’t say that you were a vampire there to do, vampire business for them. They would ask what that meant. Or assume that you were, at best, a liar and a spy. You couldn’t just claim to have psychic powers because you would eventually need to regain that energy and they would ask how. They would ask why. The whole vampire thing was strange at best. Dangerous at worst. Besides, you were never a fighter. If threatened you just… took control of the situation. What were you there for? To cook maybe? Clean? Anyone could clean. You could clean.

It was not an ideal offer.

Still. You were there to help. Didn’t that mean anything?

No one came out that first night. Nor the next. Nor the night after that. But you knew they were there. You spent your days pretending to be on vacation and your nights lingering by the old metal doors. Once or twice you called out, softly, just a name. Winston.  He didn’t come out. You understood, you were a stranger, you wouldn’t be in their system. But you were there. And you were not leaving. The waiting game was boring but you wouldn’t remember it anyway. You had all the time in the world and very little comprehension of what that meant anymore. It blew past you and you let it.

It took two weeks of quietly standing outside of those doors for someone to show up. You sensed him behind you. He was so, so quiet. Footsteps completely masked. You marveled at his skill, felt his energy move behind you. Swift, agile, cautious. You were being stalked. For most people this would be concerning. But for you. You could always see them, sense them. You knew where people were around you. Their intentions. This one suspected you. He was from within the mountain.

You patiently waited for him to take a stance behind you with a cold blade behind your neck.

“Winston called.”

The blade lowered, slowly. It didn’t get sheathed but it was no longer so close to running you through. His stance adjusted. You couldn’t tell where he was looking. He didn’t seem to be an omnic, but he had so many mechanical parts. The temptation to creep through his memories was a strong, but that would be invasive. And you didn’t come to pry.

“You weren’t part of Overwatch, were you?” It wasn’t a question.

“There was a message playing on my ex’s computer. It went off and I just thought… I should come help.” You lied. Lying came too naturally to you. Too clean. Too easy. You could sense his emotions changing. Suspicion to, interest. Interest to hope. You could push in. You could listen. You could pry. Instead you answered questions, followed him as the old doors creaked open. The entrance tunnel was barely maintained if at all. The walls dripped cracks that flowed through the floor. The lights were mostly out, the ones that weren’t flickered. The decay had its claws in this place. You would have your work cut out for you. This was a task beyond cleaning.

The man lead you through decrepit tunnels into decaying halls into some only vaguely damaged spaces and out into the open air. It was a beautiful view. You would have loved it a thousand years ago. Maybe a couple of hundred if you were in the right circumstance. But now it was just the ocean. It was just the water. Finite.

He took you to a workshop, or a lab, something with a lot of tools and boards full of notes and scrap everywhere. The blinking woman was there, and she greeted you with a rush of joy and excitement. You were new, and you were there. Someone else had finally come. She didn’t seem to care that you were a stranger. The woman took your hand and eagerly shook it.

“Welcome! Welcome! I’m Tracer, I don’t think we’ve met?” She looked at you curiously.

“No, you haven’t. You weren’t part of Overwatch before.” The gorilla approaches you with more trepidation. He must have checked. Something. People kept files didn’t they. Records. Memories. You kept too many. Perhaps if you poured them all into a computer you would feel a little better.

“I saw your message and… I’m not a fighter. But I was thinking you could use, administrative help? Cooking and cleaning and… repair I think. Perhaps.” You were good with your words once. When did that change? Do you remember?

“This place is falling apart. You’ll need somewhere safe and stable so you can go out and help people. I don’t need pay, I just want the chance to help.” Your tongue felt thick and your words too jumbled. Most of your conversations were with people you had mesmerized. This was. New. New and old. You shuddered and pulled all of your abilities into yourself. Quieting the world. To be inside your head alone. How dangerous.

“...Well… You’re not wrong… We can give this a try.” Winston held his hand out to you. It took you a moment to remember people shook hands. Did they? They bowed. Waved. Touched your face and pressed their foreheads to yours and shook your hand and your hand was in Winston’s and your arms were moving and you seemed to be doing this right. Perhaps. Go you.

“Are you going to be close by then? Living?” Tracer asked.

You nodded. You hadn’t lived anywhere for more than a few weeks in… well you weren’t quite sure. It could have been decades or centuries. Maybe you had lived somewhere for years and years and just, didn’t realize you were there. It wouldn’t surprise you. Oh, they were watching you. You were in a conversation. That would take some getting used to. What was Spain’s rental market like? You could only remember the ham.

“Sorry I was, already thinking of what to work on… I think… is there a medical bay? That should come first. At least part of it.” You finally spoke, trying to keep yourself in the moment.

“Yeah, it’s this way, I’ll show you!”

Her speed was unnatural. Science moved so fast. Cities changed with every blink. The more people discovered the more they grew and changed and pushed. It was… What was it. Impressive? Probably. You lost her at some point, weren’t sure when. They was so much exposed wiring, and so close to the open sea. A storm would make a puddle and a puddle would hurt someone. That would have to be on the priority list too. At least you didn’t have to worry about being electrocuted during all this. You ate energy, it would be like poking your mouth with a chicken strip. Not really all that life threatening when it’s also sort of delicious. Tracer appeared at your side in a flash.

“Sorry about that! Must’ve went too quick. Could you fix those?” She asked, following your gaze to the wires.

“Yes, I can.”

[thedarkgodmogar]

IM BACK WITH A FANFIC

Suprise bitch, bet you thought you’ve seen the last of me.

Anyways. I realize it’s been 3 years. Life happens, I had no ideas or motivation. But then suddenly i got a random idea for a stingue gang au fic and I actually wrote some of it! I decided to go ahead and share the first chapter, see if anyone likes it, and try to keep my motivation going. (it’s also just been years and i miss this soo) I promise I’ll try my best to keep up with this one.

First chapter of the stingue gang AU under the read more. Title TBD, but basically Sting’s an idiot and flirts too much.

When Sting walked into his boss’ office, he fully expected a beating.

He doesn’t know why, his last job had been flawless. He’d shot the boss of Titan Nose through the head before anyone even knew he had a gun, left the Sabertooth emblem on the wall to mark his work, and then took out half the gang on his way out. He didn’t know exactly why the boss wanted them gone, they seemed pretty small and insignificant. (Sting half suspected it was because they named themselves something stupid like Titan Nose.) But usually when one walked into Master Jiemma’s office, they leave with a black eye at the very least.

Sting’s never been one for fear. He’s lived on the streets his whole life, can shot someone through the eyes with a pistol fifty feet away, a rifle a hundred, and the last time someone got the better of him in a fight was Natsu Dragneel about three years ago- but that’s a story Sting would rather forget. Even with his aversion to fear, he has to stand outside the big mahogany door for several seconds, steeling himself for whatever the hell awaits him inside.

Come on, Eucliffe, stop being a little bitch and just get it over with.

With a resigned sigh, Sting pushes open the door. The air inside the office is heavy despite the rooms size and various windows; Sting’s never once seen a single window open to let in a cool breeze. His eyes scan the right side of the room, where large bookshelves are stacked against the wall, filled with all kinds of official ‘legal’ stuff Sting could never hope to understand. The left side is empty except for a door half hidden behind a curtain; despite his best efforts, Sting’s never been able to find out where that door leads. The walls are just bare concrete with what looks like old blood stains splattered at various spots, mostly along the bottom, and the wooden floorboards creak under his feet. No one can sneak around in here

Sting steps into the middle of the room, facing the desk in the very back. If Sting had any eye for interior design, he would call the piece of furniture pretty, with its large slab of redwood held up by two growling tigers. But he doesn’t have a sense of interior design, nor is he concerned about the desk. He’s more concerned about the man sitting behind it.

Even sitting down, Jiemma Orland is a hulking figure, easily over seven feet tall, and with muscles that are barely contained under his leather-looking skin. With beady eyes and long white beard, he looks like an ox on steroids.

“Master-”

“Do not speak unless spoken to,” Jiemma says in that booming, commanding voice that always makes Sting feel like an insect waiting to get stepped on. Sting promptly snaps his mouth shut.

Jiemma turns his beady red eyes on Sting. “You’ve completed the job.”

Sting knows it’s not a question, but he answers anyways, “Yes, Master. The Titan Nose boss is dead and his men scattered. They won’t-” “And the emblem?” Sting swallows hard. You haven’t done anything wrong. He has no reason to be mad… hopefully. “On the wall right over the boss’ head.”

Jiemma nods, and Sting lets himself breathe a sigh of relief. He watches as Jiemma pulls a file out of a drawer before quickly snapping it shut. He puts it on the far edge of the desk. Sting’s curiosity soars, but he remains still until given permission to move. “Another job, sir?”

Jiemma grunts in acknowledgment as Sting picks up the file, then nearly drops it when he sees the name scribbled across the top.

Cheney, Rogue. Fairy Tail.

Both infamous names in Fiore, one more so than the other. Fairy Tail is the strongest gang in the whole city, having taken over half the town, most of the ports (including Hargeon, the biggest port in the city), and import trades. The only gang keeping them from owning the entire city is Sabertooth, and it has been a long, long war. When Sting joined Sabertooth at age twelve, the fighting had already started. It’s said Fairy Tail had tried to resolve things peacefully a couple years before that by giving a few things, taking a few things, charging less for port usage, and sharing a little information. But Jiemma wanted only pure domination.

Everyone knows the story of Fairy Tail. It’s the other name on the file that holds his interest. Rogue Cheney, also known as the Shadow. It’s said they joined Fairy Tail around the same time Sting joined Sabertooth. If a suspect or political figure disappeared, or a bank robbery where the cameras didn’t even see who did it, The Shadow was the one behind it. Rogue Cheney has made quite the reputation for themselves.

“The maggot has been slinking around our territory,” Jiemma growls, dragging Sting out of his thoughts. “More weaklings have gone missing. The fairies need to be reminded who they’re dealing with. Do not fail me, Sting.”

  Sting nods, tucking the folder under his arm and bowing. “They will see the true might of Sabertooth. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.” Jiemma waves his hand in dismissal. Sting quickly makes his way out of the office, an actual bounce in his step. He got out of there without getting his ass kicked! And he got a new job! Not just any job, he gets to fuck with Fairy Tail! Either there’s a glitch in the matrix, or luck is finally on his side.

As far as Sting is concerned, there are two main Fairy Tail teams: Team Natsu, and Team Target. Team Natsu was to be avoided at all costs until further notice. Unless he could manage to get Natsu alone, then maybe he’d have some fun. But, as loathe Sting was to admit it, the other members of that team were Fairy Tail’s main force, and too strong to take on all at once.

Team Target was exactly as the name said: his target (he’s never been the most creative with names). Consisting of Yukino Agria, Rufus Lore, Gajeel Redfox, and Rogue Cheney, they were a pretty formidable team of their own right. Yukino is known for being a master at hand-to-hand combat, specializing in martial arts, as well as picking any lock you put in front of her. Rufus is their main intelligence, with a mind like a snake and a memory like a steel trap, almost nothing gets by him. Next to Rogue, Gajeel Redfox is their main firepower. Sting’s heard stories of Gajeel ripping iron with his bare hands and using the ripped off piece to stab a man through his heart. Sting isn’t sure if he believes those stories, but all rumors come from some truth.

Sting’s spent several long days trying to figure out how to deal with them. There was no way he was getting to Rogue without going through them, but taking them on all at once would be stupid. Ugh, why do groups have to be so together all the time?

Whatever. He was done thinking about it. Now, Orga had agreed to go with him to one of the best clubs in the city, where he one hundred percent planned to get blackout drunk and find some hot dude to spend the night with.

The music was loud enough Sting could feel it shaking the floor under his feet, feel the heavy bass in his chest. The flashing strobe lights made the mob of people dancing almost look like a horror film. They also made his eyes hurt. He made his way to the separate, slightly more subdued bar area in the adjacent room, where he sat and ordered one of the strongest drinks they have.

“Goin’ out strong tonight, ya?” Orga laughed and clapped him on the back as he sat on the stool next to Sting.

Sting wouldn’t really say he has friends, but Orga Nanagear would be the next closest thing. Orga had a presence in a room that was just too hard to ignore, and not just because he’s nearly seven feet tall. He laughs a lot, and even though Sting suspects it’s because he’s high ninety-eight percent of the time, Sting still likes the sound. Not many people are seen laughing in Sabertooth. It doesn’t hurt that the big guy will go drinking with him anytime he asks.

“You know me. The worst part of not being drunk is being sober.” Sting raises his glass, then takes a long drink, the alcohol burning his throat.

“Ha!” Orga guffaws. “Well, ya better watch it tonight. Yer not gonna believe what a little birdie told me.” He looks at Sting expectantly, who just grunts in acknowledgment.

Orga leans in real close. Sting can smell the weed on his clothes. “Word is some punks from Fairy Tail are gonna be showin’ up tonight. Some birthday or somethin’. The Shadow was even seen with the lot of ‘em.”

Sting nearly drops his glass.

No. Fucking. Way.

Sting does his very best at pretending he didn’t almost have a heart attack. “How many fairies?”

The look Orga gives him shows his efforts are useless. “Dunno exactly. Think only about seven? Maybe ten? It’s a small party.” The grin on his face makes Sting want to punch him. “That Natsu kid is with ‘em. You lookin’ to get yer ass handed to ya again?”

Sting ignores that. Ten Fairies, all within striking distance. And Rogue is one of them. Maybe this is the chance he’s been looking for. He’ll have to be careful, especially with Natsu; he’s the only one likely to remember Sting’s face.

No, ten Fairies is too much. He just needs the one. If he dodges Natsu, he can get to Rogue. Slip in close when they’re not looking. He’s heard how Fairy Tail parties, even crashed a few when he was younger, before Jiemma found out and broke his ribs. They’ll be drunk within the hour. All of them except Rogue, who’s hatred for alcohol is a weird abnormality in these parts.

He can do this. After all, he’s a master at seduction.

Time to snare him a Shadow.

[getsterekt]

STEREK FIC REC POST

 500 twitter followers on my @getsterekt twitter account! thanks so much guys. here is another fic rec post in honor of u guys.

(fics marked with * are personal faves)

!!!!Before reading any fics PLEASE make sure you take note of the warnings and tags! as some of these fics may include triggering content to certain readers!!!!

—————————-

i will not give you up this time by stxrxk

  Derek Hale was hard lines and rough skin.

WORDS: 304

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: none

to fall in deep by decideophobia

  “the guy i fucked last night woke up this morning, disoriented and looked at me, and said “oh, you’re hot.” and went back to sleep.”

WORDS: 618

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Gen

WARNINGS: none

They would have loved you by Bellakitse

Stiles finds an old camera in the Hale house, he decides he’s going to find a way to give a little bit of Derek’s family back to him.

…..

“He has nothing left from his family, Peter doesn’t count. No pictures, everything that belonged to them burned, I-I wouldn’t know how to deal if I could never see mom’s face again, we have pictures and family videos and he just doesn’t, I want to try to give something back to him,” Stiles looks up at his dad, embarrassed by his confession.

WORDS: 1282

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: none

TLC by  KARIN848

Alternate title: Derek Hale Deserves to Be Loved. Almost 1500 words of self indulgent Derek being cared for by Stiles after fight. Derek Hale deserves to be told that he is loved and he deserves good things. Stiles endeavors to prove that Derek is worthy of his pack and worthy of love.

WORDS: 1396

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Brad The Douchebag Ex by LadyDrace 

Stiles and Derek bump into Stiles’ shitty ex while Christmas shopping. Derek isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but when Stiles grabs his hand, he just kinda rolls with it.

WORDS: 1436

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: douchebag ex

**Hey, Babe. by Areiton

It doesn’t happen every time they’re out. But it happens. Enough that he stops thinking it’s strange.

WORDS: 1571

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: not rated

WARNINGS: none

here, in the light of day by yodasyoyo

“Go to sleep Stiles,” he mumbles.

Sleep.

Sleep?

They are naked, like, completely naked. As in Stiles’ naked dick is now pressed right up against Derek’s naked thigh. Sleep? Stiles may be exhausted and hungover, but sleep is impossible.

WORDS: 1997

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

The Well Deserved Day of Derek Hale by mackietommo

Derek doesn’t remember the last time he got a good day.

WORDS: 2066

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: none

Ephemeral by thegirlgrey

Stiles has a weird reaction to his anesthesia. He wakes up with temporary amnesia. The resulting video gets 1 million hits on YouTube in 6 hours. (Beyoncé can suck it.)

WORDS: 2182

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Money Honey by paintedrecs

Derek’s a moderately well off businessman who has a soft heart, a rapidly emptying wallet, and a serious problem with dogs, panhandlers, and life in general.

Until Stiles comes along.

WORDS: 2845

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Five Times Derek and Stiles Wanted the Same Book (And One Time There Were Two Copies) by mikkimouse

“Hey!” Stiles yanked the book back, but the other guy had a firm grip on it. “What are you–”

He trailed off when he set eyes on the leather-clad god with a glare that could strip paint off a car who also had hold of the book.

Stiles gulped, but he didn’t let go. “Hey, dude, I had it first.”

Those powerful black eyebrows bent down further. “Like hell you did.”

WORDS: 2896

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

I’m so in love with you. by beautyinstarlight

When Stiles first says I love you to Derek, it’s a completely ordinary day in their new lives. They aren’t even dating…

Or: The story of when Stiles and Derek both said I love you and beyond.

WORDS: 3510

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Homing Mechanisms by SmallBirds

Magnetoreception: The sense which allows an organism to detect a magnetic field to perceive direction, altitude or location. How birds find their way home.

–

Stiles returns to Beacon Hills after four years at Stanford, only to find out that Derek has moved back into town. He brings him a housewarming gift. Derek makes food. Things escalate from there.

WORDS: 3741

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: none

Operation Rescue Sourwolf by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere

Derek Hale will not be accused of another crime he didn’t commit. Not on Stiles’ watch.

(What really happened when Stiles used his position as FBI Intern to save Derek’s life.)

WORDS: 4221

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: violence

When Your Teachers Have No Chill by giantteenwolforgy

Derek’s not his boyfriend, but sometimes it feels like he should be.

WORDS: 4314

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: none

How to Pretend You’re Not a Virgin and Other Sordid Tales by KuriKuri

Stiles likes the anonymity, the security his pseudonym provides. Likes that there are entire forums dedicated to speculating about his identity: his gender, his sexuality, his age.

Of course, there’s one thing they all seem to agree on: he’s some sort of sex god.

Which is really, really awkward, because he’s a twenty-three year old virgin.

(Or: in which Stiles is a bestselling erotica novelist and Lydia makes him attend a convention to promote his upcoming book.)

WORDS: 5347

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Notches in Your Spine by whiskey_in_tea

Stiles is the one who finds them in the first place, Derek’s college applications.

(this fic is restricted so you will need an ao3 account to be able to read it)

WORDS: 8741

CHAPTERS: 3/3

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: none

The Truth Is by BulletBlaze

  “Well, you should get going then-” “You could come around some time-” A pause. “Wait, what?” A blush bloomed across Derek’s cheeks, barely visible over the top of his beard. He shrugged again. “If you wanted to. You could stop by while I’m fixing it up. Help me with some things. If you wanted to.” “You already said that,” Stiles, the idiot, mumbled in disbelief. Derek’s blush grew a shade darker.

WORDS: 8851

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: sheriff has a heart attack

put ‘em together and what have you got? by yodasyoyo

“Oh, bibbidi bobbidi fuck you.”

Unsurprisingly, Stiles’ fairy godmother is a menace.

WORDS: 11,162

CHAPTERS: 2/2

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Keeping Tabs by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)

After Erica’s death at the hands of the alphas, Stiles wants to be there for Derek, but Derek just wants to be alone. In the process of waiting him out, Stiles comes up with a plan to stay a step ahead of the alpha pack, and ends up spending lots of quality time with Cora and Peter.

WORDS: 12,896

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

trusting wolves by ourdreamsunfold

In the midst of a werewolf war against the alphas, the Sheriff learns that in a pack, loyalty is earned. And his son works hard enough to earn trust for both him and Derek, and all of their friends. Especially when the pack won’t even admit to liking each other most of the time. The kids are all a work in progress, and the Sheriff is lucky to be there for them. Werewolves and all.

WORDS: 13,572

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

*borders and horizon lines by magneticwave

“Let me do this nice thing for you, Derek, no strings attached,” said nobody ever.

WORDS: 14,833

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

*Help Wanted by Jebiwonkenobi

Nice things begin to happen to Derek Hale and it kind of freaks him out.

WORDS: 15,593

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Can I Keep You? by wearing_tearing

After practically being raised watching Buffy, The X-Files, and Ghostbusters, Stiles liked to think his reaction to seeing a shimmery shadow resembling a seventeen year old boy floating ten inches above ground and glaring fiercely at him wouldn’t be to let out a high pitch scream, try to karate chop him, and then, when that obviously didn’t work, throw a basketball at him.

A basketball that just went right through the boy’s stomach.

or, the Sterek Casper AU.

WORDS: 16,005

CHAPTERS: 6/6

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Imagine Me And You by callunavulgari

“My name,” the kid tells Derek, sounding amused. “It’s Stiles. I figure if I’m going to wrestle a complete stranger for a pumpkin the least I can do is offer my name afterwards.”

“Stiles,” Derek tries, testing the way the name sits on his tongue. “I’m Derek.”

“Derek,” Stiles breathes, like he’s testing the weight of the name too. He grins, bright and blinding, which Derek guesses means that he likes the sound of it. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but since we almost got to second base a minute ago, I’d say we’re past that point.”

WORDS: 16,080

CHAPTERS: 6/6

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Regression to the Mean by theroguesgambit

There aren’t really words for this. “Sure, dude. Let’s hang out sometime and bond over the fact that our lives suck and we’ve both basically killed a bunch of people by accident” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. –

Prompt: In the aftermath of 3B, Stiles and Derek learn to trust, learn to fuck, and learn to love themselves, each other, and their pack.

WORDS: 16,580

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: ptsd (both stiles and derek)

We’ll be Better Around the Second Time by Cantabo

It’s been months. Months of fading contact with the pack. Months of the silent treatment from his father. Months of nothing but himself and the occasional lesson with Deaton to entertain him.

It’s too much, and eventually, Stiles leaves.

For years, everything goes great, until of course his dad gets injured, and he is suddenly forced to deal with people he thought he left behind in his past for good.

OR: Stiles gets pushed out of the pack, hits the road, makes new friends, learns how to grow up, and falls in love.

WORDS: 26,589

CHAPTERS: 12/12

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: None

You Can’t Dodge Stiles Stilinski by stilinskisparkles

“And this is it?” he points at the first girl. “I saw you in first period, you barely bothered to catch any of the balls you were tossed. I’m pretty sure you spent more time on your cell.”

The girl rolls her eyes, and looks completely unashamed of the fact she had her phone out in class. Derek knows Finstock would have stepped on it.

“And you,” he points at the second girl, taller and with eyes that meet Derek’s coolly. “You can’t throw anything worth half a damn. And what are you,” he points at the boy, trying not to look him in the eye, and failing. “A hundred and fifty pounds wet?”

The boy smirks at him, and Derek looks resolutely away. He’s now desperately trying not to picture him wet.

“I can’t work with this.”

WORDS: 27,250

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: underage (nothing sexual happens until stiles is 18 but theres flirting and stuff between stiles and derek while he’s 17) teacher-student relationship

A Perfect Storm by keeperofstories & queenofday

The first time Derek sees him is on the Subway.

The fifth time Derek spots him, the boy has a split lip and an angry alpha threatening him.

(OR: Where Scott is a really bad boyfriend and Derek ends up being Stiles’ hero)

WORDS: 30,848

CHAPTERS: 7/7

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Graphic violence, abusive relationships, domestic violence

Take Me Out To The Ball Game (Or to dinner, I’m easy either way) by Whisper91

In which single-father Derek Hale falls head over heels for his sons’ new Little League coach. Unsurprisingly, it’s all Laura’s fault.

WORDS: 32,556

CHAPTERS: 7/7

RATING:Mature

WARNINGS: so much fluffff (says theres 7/8 chapters finished but im pretty sure its complete as it hasnt been updated in 2 years and the ending of ch7 is super nice and fluffy)

To Each Their Own by SylvieW

Stiles agrees to become the owner of a werewolf with some very special needs. Derek has been abused for so long he’s nearly feral. Stiles has to find a way to gain his trust before Derek’s heat, or he could be put down.

WORDS: 32,668

CHAPTERS: 10/10

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: !!heed the tags!! dub-con, werewolves are pretty much slaves, kate argent warning. abusive kate.

**Ghosts In The Suburbs by Hypocorismm

Stiles gets cursed by a witch and can see dead people. 

WORDS: 37,263

CHAPTERS: 15/15

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: angst

You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you) by standinginanicedress

Option A : violently tell Derek that they are under no circumstances ever to hook up again because it was stupid and dumb.

Option B : tell Scott the truth, stand back and watch as Scott kills Derek with his bare hands so Stiles doesn’t even have to face the music. Not an option at all, actually. Expunge this from the record.

The real Option B : calmly explain to Derek that the situation is too fucked up and hey, maybe if Derek and Scott ever shake hands and make up, he and Stiles can hook up again because, man…it was great.

Option C : forget everything, charge headfirst into danger like fuckin’ Bravehart and have sex with Derek all over again.

Option D : bury himself alive and wait for the worms to eat him.

WORDS: 38,954

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: none

***Come with Me and Walk the Longest Mile by  DevilDoll

“Stiles shouldn’t accept rides from werewolves he meets behind abandoned convenience stores.” In which the zombie apocalypse is just one of their worries.

WORDS: 39,275

CHAPTERS: 4/4

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: underage

Killer Smile by Black_Calliope

One. Two. Seven. How many times should a killer strike before getting called 'serial’?

Or the one where Stiles works as a member of a Behavioral Analysis Unit, gets insulted quite a lot, learns that love doesn’t always take the shortest path and cultivates an illicit relationship with a coffee mug. Not necessarily in that order. Also, Boyd has a thing for explosives and Lydia is the most BAMF coroner ever. Derek doesn’t get his spring rolls because he doesn’t deserve them. Neither does Stiles, but that’s another whole story.

WORDS: 51,434

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

**Those Are The Days That Bind Us by  s_a_m

His father wasn’t stupid. He was an officer of the law, trained to look for patterns. He confronted Stiles about werewolves and they shouted and Stiles tried to explain but his father was so, so, so mad, more mad than Stiles had ever seen him, ever in all his life and then his father looked at him and said,

“It’s like you’re not my son anymore.”

And Stiles broke.

WORDS: 52,171

CHAPTERS: 5/5

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: angst, PTSD, violence, gore, implied/referenced non-con, death of an unborn baby, panic attacks

[Sleep]Walking After You by relenafanel

Derek is a sleepwalker who keeps wandering into his downstairs neighbour’s bedroom.

Stiles is pretty sure the hot guy from the park is going to kill him in his sleep. He knows he shouldn’t have been so obvious about objectifying the guy’s really fine ass.

Too bad it turns out Derek is easier to get along with when he’s sleeping.

WORDS: 56,551

CHAPTERS: 10/10

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: none

***Safety in Silence by Survivah

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

WORDS: 66,901

CHAPTERS: 5/5

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: none

The More Things Change by KouriArashi

Ten years ago, there was a major war between the supernatural world and the mundane. Now Beacon Hills is cut off and the Argents are in control, and the supernatural creatures are slowly being hunted down. But when Stiles, who was adopted by the Argents after the death of his parents, makes friends with the Hale Pack, things start to change…

WORDS: 80,378

CHAPTERS: 18/18

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence

***One life stand by Vendelin

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it’s getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there’s only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

All Derek wants is Stiles’s time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It’s the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he’s ever had, and he’s more than happy to sign up.

Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it’s just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

WORDS: 84,278

CHAPTERS: 6/6

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: read tags for warnings

Into The Open Air by Acherona & trulywicked

It was a little strange moving back to Beacon Hills. His daughter becoming enchanted with his odd and very attractive neighbor didn’t really help matters.

WORDS: 99,482

CHAPTERS: 22/22

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: Violence

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college.

Well, except for the fact that he’s a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica’s epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there’s this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him.

Oh, and the murders, of course.

But other than that stuff… totally the same old BH.

WORDS: 109,578

CHAPTERS: 16/16

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Bruises and Bitemarks by oblivions172

Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he’s attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years.

WORDS: 121,566

CHAPTERS: 27/27

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: !!Read Tags!!

[monochromemedic]

Mr. Warfstache

When I came to this college it was highly recommended. Everyone who went here said it was fun and interesting all be it a bit... strange. Rumor said that if you could survive the teachers weirdness you’d go through life with flying colors, if not... then you’d be scarred over what you encountered. I decided to apply to the college and easily got in, as most people were terrified to try the college.

It was obvious to see what was going on my first semester there. The teachers were all strange in their own way, none of them a ‘normal’ teacher. One of them was a man that I would have sworn was a computer, he could easily calculate the answer to any math problem in just a few seconds. Some people swore that his veins were just wires in disguise.  Another one was a business man who always wore old western outfit, complete with cowboy boots but he had the best jewelry in the world. He would constantly complain about the amount of kids he had. Last time someone counted they were easily in the 20′s. While all my starting classes were strange, there was one I was dreading. My PE class. School basically forced us to take some sort of exercise and almost all of it was maned by a man known as ‘The Colonel’ although his real name was Mr. Warfstache.  People who took the class said he was a strange looking man, even by the other teachers standards. Big round pink lenses glasses, a cap always on his head with the schools logo.  And the bushiest black mustache anyone had ever seen. If it wasn’t for the dumb shorts he always wore and the fact the man was ripped they could have sworn he time traveled. That coupled with the fact that I sucked at PE as a kid and was... well fat didn’t help. I always had trouble sweating, I could never exercise for long before I was overheating and struggling to catch my breath. I felt as soon as ‘The Colonel’ saw me his army instincts would kick into over drive and he’d pull out one of those old timey army whips and beat the shit out of me. So when I walked into the field in my exercise clothes along with the other students and saw him standing there, clipboard in hand I began to shake.  God the others were right, he looked like a weird safari man... It didn’t help when I noticed the amount of light scars on his legs, which looked like hunks of ham with how big they were. So many scars, small ones, huge ones. I could only imagine the amount of battles he went through. It didn’t help with how young he looked. “Good evening everyone~” Mr. Warfstache called out his voice strange. It took everyone off guard. Was it an accent? Some speech impediment? We all looked at each other in confusion as if expecting one of the others to say what the hell was going on. “My name is Mr. Warfstache... You could also call me the Colonel or if we get really friendly after a few days... William.” He flashed a smile, looking over the crowd of kids he’d be working with. “I’ll be going over names, and then we’ll warm up. Then we’ll run the mile.” Everyone let out a soft groan “Yes, Yes I know. A mile run on the first day, not the first thing everyone wants to start out with~” He drew out the last syllable as he fixed his mustache, looking down at the board. “But it’s a good start to see where we all stand as a class fitness wise and then at the final day we’ll do it again and see how you’ll improve. Seeing how fit you can get in such a short amount of time really increases your confident, trust me.” And with that he went over the list of people in the class. With each name someone would give a sign of affirmation.  I dreaded with how he said my name. “Jenna er...” He paused, tapping his finger against the paper as he tried to think about how to try to pronounce my last name I didn’t even give him a chance to try as I told him. He nodded his head, closing his eyes and muttering it to himself as if trying to remember it somehow. He lifted his head, eyes scanning over me before giving a small smile. Was it a smile?  It seemed so forced. I looked away from him, a shameful flush coming across my face.  He probably thought I was gonna be his biggest hurdle this semester. After he said all of the names we began to stretch as a group, nothing special but I could tell everyone had eyes on Mr.W.  Stretching his huge calves with lunges, lifting his arms in the air, a bit of his stomach revealed. More scars, every time he moved  there were more scars. It was obvious everyone was trying to figure out where they all came from, how that many scars could be on one man, and how many more they could find. It was alarming to say the least. “Alright~” He called out after a few stretches. “Four times around the track is a mile, get to it! I’m keeping track.... NOW.” He quickly pulled out a stop watch from his pocket and grabbed the whistle from around his neck, blowing it in all of our ears. Everyone took off at a breakneck speed while I started out slow. My messy mop of hair began to bounce in my face, blocking my view. Damn it, I knew I should have gotten a haircut during break. As I ‘ran’ Mr. Warfstache sped pass me seemingly wanting to catch up with the large group of runners ahead of me. As he passed though I noticed he gave me a little wave before speeding ahead. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on breathing. In through the mouth, out through the nose. I could feel my skin beginning to heat up as my legs began to ache and sting with each step. ‘Come one you’ve only been running for a little while’ I thought to myself trying to push myself further, not wanting to be ‘that guy’ in PE. I managed to make it a little further before my bangs flew in front of my face, blocking my view. I quickly began to wipe the hair away before realizing at the last moment that I was speeding straight for a pole. The sound of my skull hitting the metal echoed through the filed as I quickly fell to the ground, my entire world going blurry. I couldn’t hear anything except for the ringing in my ears and the sound of blood pounding in my head. I didn’t feel anything, but as soon as everything began to come back to reality I began to notice the wet sticky feeling running down my face. I learned from other students what happened while I was down.  A person rounding the corner saw me smash against the pole and stopped calling attention to the teacher.  As soon as he took notice, they said he took off at full speed towards me, hurdling over gym equipment left in the interior of the track to slide down beside me. The world was still whirling around me was I saw his face hunched close to mine. He looked worried and he was obviously saying something, but it was muffled to me. “... h....hey! Come on old girl...can’t do this to me first day.” I heard him say. I only muttered what I thought was a ‘sorry’ but probably sounded like me trying not to gargle my own blood that was currently leaking down my face. He began to  hold up fingers in front of my face. They were so blurry but i could see 2 fingers. “2...” I muttered out to him. This was seemingly right as he let out a small breath of relief. Then he did something I don’t think anyone expected. He slipped his hands under my body and picked my up, holding me close to his body, my head laying on his shoulder. “Come on, we gotta get you to a nurse. No concussion but still you bashed your noggin pretty good.” He said softly to me before turning to the crowd of people, all worried and slightly amazed at the feat of strength he was displaying. “Uh... keep going. I’ll be back as soon as I get her to the nurse.” With that he began to carry me off back to the building, facing towards the field as people began to talk, a few beginning to run again. The whole thing seemed like a blur. I probably wasn’t all there as all i could remember was him carrying me, muttering something, and the floor changing from grass, to the floors of the school. And then I was out like a light. I woke up with a splitting headache, laid against a couch in an office I didn’t recognize. It seemed... sporty? Medals after medals were placed on the wall, not all of them athletic ones. Pictures of a baby faced man in army clothing smiling towards the camera, with other men in uniform. Mr Warfstache’s office. I wanted to move but my body was still recovering, every inch of me hurting. It wasn’t long after before Mr. Warfstache walked in, a sigh coming from him. He was in a different shirt. I must of bled on the white one. “Jenna, Jenna, Jenna. Hell of a first impression my girl!” He walked over and kneeled beside my laying body. His face was close to mine but his eyes were focused above me. “Don’t mean to intrude... just checking on the cut. Seems good... good. That Schneep fellow deserves a pay raise.” He gave a little chuckle before sitting on the floor, look at me. “Now... I know you’re probably not in the mood for talking, but tell me what on Earth happened? Why did you decide to give me a scare on our first day back?” “I...I’m sorry. m...my hair. Got in front of my face and I just... ran into the pole. I didn’t want to...” I trailed off causing Mr. Warfstache to raise a brow “Didn’t what?” “D...didn’t want to fall behind. I know i’m not... good at running... or anything. I didn’t want to be that kid in class.” Mr. Warfstache looked me over before bellowing with laughter, a hand covering his mouth. “Sorry i’m not laughing at you just your thought process... Jenna my dear it doesn’t matter if your the last one in the group, i’ll just be happy if you try. And besides I don’t think anyone will think that of you now. I think they’ll think of you of the girl that bashed her face open first day of physical education!” His smile faded however as he took on a more serious tone. “I am glad you are ok though. You really did scare me. That’s not a very nice trick to play on an ex army man...” My heart sank as I tried to speak up to apologize but he put a finger up in protest. “That just makes me want to protect you now. You’re a hazard, who knows what you’ll do next. I got my eye on you Miss Jenna. Got to give you some protection. Any worries you have about this class or... anything about ‘being that kid in class’ please come to me... I hope you stay with me and don’t drop this class. I think you just made this class period just as mad as I want it to be!”