#id climb him so goddamn fast

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price - Curtain Call From Cactus Creek (1951)

[fraugwinska]

Going with the times was amazing! Thank you so much. If I may can I get another Alastor x Reader who is a very affectionate person like always going in for hugs if she's close to them and she gets drunk and starts trying her hardest to give Husk a hug because he looks so grumpy, so he summons Alastor to come get his girlfriend. Who then gets incredibly happy to see him and just clings to him after he picks her up. Id also like to see Angels reaction to all of this.

You are awesome!

No, YOU are awsome! :> I do love Husk and Angel together, throw drunken Reader into the mix and we have ourselfes some chaos :D I sincerely hope you like it! <3

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Take the edge off

It had started so innocently. 

For the first time since you met him, Husk had actually, actively invited you for an after-dinner-sendoff-drink at the bar, along with Angel. 

Coming from him, the one that had been the most on the fence with you, you didn't dare to pass this opportunity. It was understandable though. Husk had a deep distrust in Alastor, and, by proxy, in you when he had introduced you to the surprised residents as his ‘courtship’. 

You had visited the hotel often after that, staying for activities or dinners, bringing over some baked goods or homemade treats if your work schedule allowed time for it, lending listening ears and comforting hugs in spades to anyone who needed it and earned the admiration - or at least acceptance of your presence - from almost everyone over time. Almost. 

Husk, ever the skeptic, had made it clear to you he wouldn't want to have any relations to demons who chose to stay at Alastor's side, let alone his ‘partner’. 

But you stubbornly persisted, even though it had hurt, even though Alastor would pat your head and tell you it was wasted labor - you still tried, bringing an extra bottle of the herb sirup you knew Husk liked to spice his drinks with, or you tried to engage him in conversations about things you learned he was interested in. Now, your earnest efforts had seemed to finally been fruitful - instead of invading, you were finally invited to sit at his bar. 

In all the nervousness of not fucking this up, you drank too much, way too fast. You were a lightweight on good days, but now, after five not-so-kid-friendly drinks in the span of less than an hour, you were… unhinged. 

“I told ‘ya the last Gin Tonic was too much for her!”

Angel snorted with laughter, two hands holding you back from climbing over the bar to an aggravated Husk, arms outstretched and whining loudly. 

“Huuuuuuusk, come on, just oooone!”, you struggled against Angels grip on your waist, eager to reach the furry demon and put your arms around him, “I give the bestest, bestestest hugs ever, you cannot not smile, I promise!” 

Husk ducked with a mumbled curse, dodging your gripping hands when Angel temporarily lost grip on you because he laughed too hard at the chaotic mess that you were - normally his job, with Charlie as the babysitter - oh, how tables turned. 

“Fuckin-... how the hell was I supposed to know that she'd turn into a goddamn demonic care bear?!” Husk grunted, pulling the feathery end of his tail out of your hands - you had caught it with delighted giggles and glee, and pouted when it slipped out of your fingers. 

“Niffty! YO, NIFFTY!”, he bellowed, looking down to find her already at his side behind the bar. 

“Shit, you're fast. Oy, go and get Alastor, pronto, tell him his friggin’ girlfriend is…” Husk was pulled back by his neck, a sudden weight on his back making him swallow the end of his sentence. You had managed to escape Angels restrictive hands, and slung your arms around the cat demons neck, nuzzling your cheeks into the fur on his back. 

“Theeeere ya go! Feel the frown turn upside down!”, you sang, words muffled by his pelt, grip as strong as iron. Husk groaned, prying at your hands, but - to no avail and Angels absolute amusement - you tightened your hold on him the more he struggled. 

Niffty tilted her head, clearly not fazed by what was happening. Angel heaved, clutching his chest as he tried to calm down enough to speak. 

“Niff, just… pfff, stop that, leave his whiskers alone babe, holy shit, huh-huh, okay, okay… just run an’ tell Smiles to get his doll before she strangles Husky, okay?”

The little bug nodded eagerly and scurried away. 

Angel turned to Husk, still a highly bemused grin on his face. “‘Ya know, having the radio demons lover hanging around ‘ya neck might earn ‘ya some major street cred.”

“Oh, you fuck off if yo’ can’t help.”Husk growled, trying to ignore your figure, still clutched onto him like a living backpack. “Get off me kid, come on, dammit.”

“But you're not happy yet.”, you said innocently, refusing to let go. 

Angel gave Husk a meaningful look. “‘Ya know, she really does give great hugs, when she's sober and not batshit crazy drunk like this.”

“I don't need hugs, I need a fucking drink is what I need.”

“Huuuuusk…”, you whined again, quieter now, sadder. “Why do you hate me?”

Husk stood still, exchanging a look with Angel, who seemed pitiful now. He nudged his head to the two of you as a silent command: Say something nice. Husk sighed, patting your arm around his neck awkwardly. 

“I don't hate yo’, kid.” 

“Yeah you do… I just want to be friends, see your happy face, smiling… but you hate me…”

Angel narrowed his eyes at him, mouthing ‘Do better’, and he huffed. 

“Jesus fuckin…, listen, I don’t like yo’ choices of men, but ...you're alright. Way better than yo’ bitch ass of a boyfriend at least.”

Angel opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of Alastor's signature jazz background music approached and he quickly decided to just sit back, out of the immediate danger zone but near enough to have a first class seat to whatever would happen now. 

Alastor walked up with an amused smile and curious expression. 

“Evening, my fellow friends. Niffty came to me with a cryptic message, about my darling doe strangling our beloved bartender?”

Husk scoffed, turning around so the radio demon could see you hanging on him like a koala on a tree trunk, pointing at you. “This yours?”

Alastor laughed, his face lighting up in a softness Husk had seldom seen before. 

“Indeed, it seems to be.” He chuckled, stepping up to you. ��Darling?”

You rose your head at the sound of his voice, smiling happily when you recognized him. 

“Al!” He caught you with ease when you jumped from Husk’s back straight into his arms, patting your back as you locked your arms around his waist. “My, those two did their diligent work, you are quite inebriated.”

You giggled into his coat. “Yup, I am hammered like a rusty nail!” You lifted your head, beaming up with tired eyes at his bemused grin. “And Al, guess what! Husk said I'm not an ass like you, so he doesn't hate me anymore! I’m alright!”

Husk, who rubbed his sore neck, froze at your words, quickly shooting the radio demon a glance. Static crackled and for a second, he shivered from the licks of electricity running over his spine, making his fur stand up. But nothing further happened. Alastor just smiled at you, ignoring the cat demon completely, and ruffled your hair. “How good for you love, you did it afterall! But it’s late now, why don’t you stay here tonight?” “That’d be nice…”, you sighed, sleepy and exhausted.

You let his waist go, only to wrap your arms around his neck as he scooped you up to carry you. Angel and Husk gawked at the scene before them, questioning reality as Alastor, of all people, pressed his lips to the crown of your head, which made you humm and turned to leave, leaving the bar without so much as a cheerful "Good night, chums.".

Angel leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands in his hands, watching the pair disappear in the dark with an amazed expression. "Man, she really takes his villain-y edge off, doesn't she? Kinda scary how she gets Smiles to almost behave human." Husk poured himself another drink. "Scary doesn't even cut it." He took a huge swig, but he still had to grin.

[lunaticus-platina]

Werewolf Travis is such a treat to imagine because, well. You know why. Best Boy Travis- coughcoughcough.

Uh, what I mean is, tall + well built + determined is not what you want in your rage-fueled pursuer. I like to think that he's pretty cunning too, like that scene from Jurassic Park where Muldoon tries to shoot Deinonychus then another one pops out of the bush right next to him and he says 'clever girl'. Travis uses his environment well. Blends into surroundings, climb up the trees for better view, when one entrance is blocked look for another etc.

Despite being bigger and more vicious than other werewolves, he's an ambush hunter. Think about his Ninja-level stealth. When he's human it's already impressive, but you won't even see the beast before you feel its maws ripping open your neck. There's also his reflex. He's more of a fucking cat than a pupper if you see how fast he snatches away Laura's wrist from the gun. You fail QTE, Laura attempts to sedate him, Travis blocks her wrist with his forearm. One firm tap! Syringe gone. Fking precise. Always careful, careful, careful. He exerts bare minimum of strength and effort, only the right amount that's needed for the job. His movements are methodical, you see that right? Even the steps look careful. Now imagine how meticulous he could be when hunting his prey.

Another thing, chasing people is his job. Police right? That and 6 years of hunting Silas. You cannot outrun him, especially in the forest. His feet are light as feather, no protruding roots or overhanging branches can deter him. He'll rather toy with you. Why end the fun short? He's been holding back for so long! The curse enables a person's primary side to literally tear out of their civil mask and show itself as a physical manifestation. His Id has been denied for, how long?

We know Travis is hella disciplined, and I love that about him, how hard he works for anything. Family and his job, both he takes so seriously, always putting them before his own needs. Now flip the coin. Werewolf Travis cares about one thing and one thing only: What he wants. Anger him, he kills you. Hungry? Snack time. Hmm bored. He got you in his sight. The hunt is on. Imagine all that dedication poured into his own selfish desire. That is the monster from the old stories right there. Wimpy counselors don't stand a goddamn chance, we need an actual hunter, soldier, any character that knows how to fight and survive.

Also he's a lone wolf. His human side already had enough of his family. You can't tell me he doesn't enjoy the peace and quiet, the freedom and solitude the transformation brings. Near dawn he'll run away, finds a shallow burrow under a tree stump or something, swipe some comfy leaves in there and sleep in his den. Later he finds a dead tree nearby with a small gap in it, hides some spare clothes there so he doesn't have to wake up, wait until night and wander through the forest back home in his birthday suit ever again.

Final boss Travis. God if he were a playable character.....no, no. He's too powerful, best he could be was a support character. At least until dawn characters level badassery is needed to deal with werewolf him. Him being bit at the very end of the game was a small mercy for all of them.

In the route where he got shot in the cell, he was bleeding quite a lot, and yet later he's at family home. Isn't he supposed to like...be resting. Jesus. Carries on like there isn't a bullet hole in him. Got punched the fuck outta his mind by werewolf Laura, hard enough his head got whipped to the side, crashes into a mirror, recovers quickly, grabs a shard, notices it's silver backed, the guy's level-headed alright damn. Arm got munched on, it's shredded, he doesn't scream. He uses that arm like his muscle isn't all torn up and skin chewed open. His pain tolerance is gooood.

I bet if werewolf Travis is charging at you, and you fire a few normal bullets at him, he'll just shrug them off and pounce. If he's close enough he'll just, fucking, dash through the raining bullets, endure a few hits on the way, and kill, unlike other werewolves that are scared away by gunshots. He doesn't whimper, he doesn't whine, or howl. He growls. Snarls. Roars into the night. He's so fucking angry. He'll rip you apart.

[nenestansunsthings]

@spectatorspectacul4r i- i wrote a story???? for your art????? that was unfairly cute art, chim! and i hope you know that!

.

Clef is pulling some shit again.

Kondraki can hear the junior staffers whispering about it in the hallways, knows full well that Bright and Iceberg had pulled the man aside to see if it was true and if he was serious. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little interested himself, even if it was just to see how far Clef would really go.

See, it all started with that cat.

Nobody actually knew where the cat had come from, or who it belonged to, or why it was there. Everyone was pretty goddamn sure it was Clef’s– it wore a silly, flowery boater hat sometimes, for one thing, and it was always hanging around his usual haunts– but whenever they asked him he always said it belonged to someone else. Kondraki had lost track of how many times it had been shoved into his office, with someone saying Clef had told them he owned it. The same went for Gears, Crow, Rights, Bright, Glass– even Roth had been approached by someone who’d been told it was hers, as awkward as that had to have been. It knew the site so well they swore it had an ID card and a map, and every time someone had tried to catch it the cat had always barely managed to slip from their grasp. It wasn’t bad, compared to some of the things they had locked up, but it was weird, and things only got weirder when they couldn’t find anything on it. So it was almost a relief when Clef stopped playing around with them all and just said outright that it was his cat.

Of course, though, it was Clef. So there was no way things would be that easy.

It’s almost fitting that Kondraki hasn’t heard the actual announcement. He’s not even sure if there was one. Clef’s challenge feels like it was meant to be spread only in rumours and whispers, until everyone in the site can’t help but know it.

“I will leave a key on my cat. If one can get the key, then they shall know everything about me.”

Damn, did that spur people to action.

But the cat is fast. Cunning, too, enough that sometimes Kondraki wonders if Clef doesn’t share a mind with it. It dodges and disappears and attacks, when people get too close. It makes people bleed and run, and that’s only if somehow they’d managed to find it in the first place. A few enterprising researchers put up traps and find them dismantled, with a smug cat licking its paws clean just a few feet away. He avoids it where he can. He really doesn’t want to get sucked into this whole cat mess.

 .

Kondraki’s first proper encounter with the cat is in his office.

He walks in and the damned thing is curled up in his swivel chair, eyes closed and tail settled around itself protectively. The hat isn’t on its head today; it’s on his desk, discarded on top of some paperwork he hadn’t finished. It doesn’t move even when he opens the door. He can’t help but notice the slow rise and fall of its chest; is it asleep? Really?

It’d be hilarious if he wasn’t beginning to worry about it trying to kill him if he came too close.

But he’s got to finish something today, or Gears is going to kill him before the cat can, so Kondraki steels himself and closes the door behind him.

“Hey!”

The cat jolts, shooting up so quickly it nearly falls off the chair. It hisses, claws digging into the foam dangerously. Kondraki backs away, holding up his hands in surrender. “Whoa! Don’t- I don’t want any trouble, okay? Don’t bite or anything.”

That doesn’t stop the cat from glaring up at him like he’s going to gut it.

“Just get off,” Kondraki hisses back. “I have work to finish. I don’t want your goddamn key, okay? As much as I’d like to know everything about Clef or whatever he apparently said, I’d prefer to do it alive. Just let me finish signing everything before Gears and Iceberg have my head.”

The cat pauses, its eyes flashing dangerously, before it jumps onto his desk and picks up its hat in its little mouth. It flips the hat onto its head in a single smooth motion before meowing to itself and hopping onto his windowsill next.

“… Damn. Okay.” Kondraki shakes his head, taking his seat and grabbing the unfairly tall stack. He’s got a lot to do today, cat be damned.

When he turns to the windowsill again, almost half an hour later, the cat is gone.

 .

The second time he encounters the cat, it’s in the cafeteria, hat-free and perched on the rafters dangling its tail gleefully down towards a group of interns who’ve made a wobbling stack of chairs to try and reach it. It’s clearly having fun, taking pleasure in their futile attempts with a wide grin as sharp as its owner’s.

Kondraki isn’t taking the same pleasure, because the poor asshole at the top is going to fall off. “What the hell are you idiots doing?!”

“Shit!” One of them panics, their hold on the chairs slipping. It’s only their companion’s quick movement that stops the whole thing from collapsing in on itself. “D-Doctor Kondraki! We’re so sorry-!”

“How exactly were you planning to get down from there?!” Kondraki demands, and the one on top pales. “What, were you going to climb? Do it. Climb down from there right now. I’d like to see you try that.”

“Sir-”

“I said,” he repeated, “climb down from there.”

The intern gulps, looking down and very carefully grabbing the legs of the chairs. They’ve stacked them well enough, but it’s a dangerous climb regardless, one that’s only made worse by how the person climbing down is shaking. Kondraki walks closer, readying himself to catch them if they lose their grip. Somehow, the fall he expects doesn’t come.

“I’m sorry,” the intern apologizes quickly, their breathing uneven and panicked. “Please- Please don’t tell Doctor Glass, he told us not to do this, please don’t-“

“Oh, I won’t be doing that.” Kondraki turns his gaze to the group still standing by the stack. They flinch. “No, you all apparently decided to- what? Disobey Glass’s orders to not stack chairs to the ceiling to grab a fucking cat? No, you’re telling him yourselves.”

They nod quickly, practically tripping over themselves to get out. Kondraki sees them out of the cafeteria first before turning to the cat. The pointed grin has fallen from its face, and it’s looking down at him with a faint interest in its eyes.

“And as for you,” Kondraki continues, because god damn if he’s not going to call out the cat, “what the fuck was that? Clef is going to get into so much trouble if his little game kills someone, you asshole. Did you think it was okay to let them climb that far? I saw you playing with them, you dick. Get down from there right now.”

To his surprise, after a moment, the cat complies. It plops itself down on the chairs, one by one, hopping its way down with an unfair grace. It settles down finally just a foot away from the stack, clearly ready to knock it down onto Kondraki if he tries anything.

Kondraki huffs. “Honestly, you’re such an asshole cat. No wonder Clef picked you.” He approaches slowly, reaches down not for the key around its neck but to grab it by the scruff of its neck. It doesn’t stop him, only watches him warningly with mismatched eyes. “Okrutny kotek. Okropny kotek. I’m dumping you in Clef’s office before you murder some idiot researcher.”

It grumbles at him, as if to say carry me properly, dumbass, but it bats away his hand when he moves to support it from under so he leaves it alone. He doesn’t try for the key, either. As enticing as it is, brass nestled under the cat’s fluffy fur, he doesn’t think the cat’s going to trust him with it. And he’s not exactly playing Clef’s game seriously, either. So the cat makes its way to its owner’s office without incident.

 .

The third time he encounters the cat, it’s because the little thing is weaving its way between his feet in the hallways.

“Hey!” Kondraki barely manages to stop himself from falling, throwing out a hand to steady himself against the wall. “Fucking- what do you want? Do you like tripping people in the halls or something?”

The cat just purrs at him, the fucker. It’s infuriating how cute it is. As much as Kondraki’s not really a cat person, there’s something about this one that gets to him.

“Oh, shut up.” He picks it up, ignoring its angry yowl when he does, and he carries it in his arms as he makes his way to his office. “What, are you having some fun in between dragging people to hell? Am I going to have to stop someone from getting their eyes clawed out today?”

Clef’s cat huffs, settling down in his grip. It lets him pet it, lets him rub its tiny little forehead and the curve of its spine. It’s fluffy. “Puszysty kotek. Malutki słodki mały kotek…”

“Does Clef know you baby-talk his cat?” Iceberg snarks as he passes. Kondraki would flip him off if his hands weren’t occupied.

He nudges the door to his office open with one foot when he gets there, heading over to his desk and depositing his fluffy companion on it. “You can stay in there for a bit. At least I can keep an eye on you. No-one needs another chair incident.”

The cat pauses for a moment, then settles down with an indulgent purr. Kondraki has to stop himself from smiling at the sight. He sits down in his own chair and gets to his work.

 .

He loses track of how many times he encounters the cat after that. It’s taken a liking to him, he thinks. It likes to follow him around or show up in his office sometimes, winding its way between his legs or scratching at the door until he lets it in to sleep under his desk. Rights asks, at some point, if he’s going to take the key from it. In all honesty, he doesn’t care. So long as that cat doesn’t stop liking him, he’s fine with anything.

The cat seems to know that, too. It’s gotten more and more comfortable just being around him, letting him scratch at the crook of its neck and falling asleep on his lap despite the risk. Throughout all that, the brass key hanging around its neck goes untouched, except when he nudges it by accident when he picks the little cat up.

So he really doesn’t get it when the cat approaches him in the break room one day, stalking forward slowly with determination in its eyes. He doesn’t get why it looks so apprehensive.

“Morning,” he says to it, turning to it and watching as it stiffens at his voice. “Is something wrong? You’re a lot quieter than usual. Do you want to come nearer? Kici, kici, kici, kici…”

The cat’s claws are digging into the stuffing of the couch. It nudges the elbow he has resting near it, meowing plaintively.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” Kondraki reaches out to pet it. It makes an angry little mrrp noise when he does, grabbing his hand with its little front paws and pulling it to the key still nestled comfortably under its fur.

“… What the hell are you doing?” Kondraki tries to tug his hand away. The cat doesn’t let go. “You know I’m not supposed to have this, right? This isn’t my key. And as much as Clef talks a big game about this being a test and not just him trying to get us off his back about his past, he probably wouldn’t like me having it.”

The cat stares at him like he’s the stupidest man alive. It’s a very expressive cat.

“Honestly.” Kondraki huffs, letting it bat at his fingers angrily. “Don’t scratch, asshole. Like I said, I’m not actually supposed to have that thing.”

The cat growls.

“Fine! Fine! Will it shut you up if I just take it?” The claws on his hand stop digging quite so much, and Kondraki groans. “Fucking- ow. I’m going to need to clean all these cuts you left, little asshole. If you leave any more I’m going to punt you out a window.”

His fingers close gently around the key.

The cat doesn’t move as he carefully takes off the necklace it’s wearing, letting him remove the key with no fight at all. It’s weird, Kondraki thinks. Everyone he’s ever seen make the mistake of trying has always left with a bloody hand cursing Clef and his cat to hell and back. And yet he’s perfectly fine.

He shakes his head, setting the key and its necklace beside him and going back to petting the cat, which has already settled into a familiar position curled up on his lap.

There’s a sudden hiss, not from the cat’s throat but from the cat, and in a flash of blinding light the weight on his lap is suddenly doubled. Kondraki yelps, shoving the thing on its lap down instinctively.

“Ow! Jesus, Konny-!”

Kondraki blinks, shocked, at the figure in front of him. Clef pokes at the back of his head carefully, wincing at what must be a spike of pain where he touches. “Ow. And you say I hurt you. God, you’re terrible.”

“I- Wh- Clef?! What the fuck-?!”

“Honestly, Konny.” Clef huffs, crossing his arms. “Did you have to shove me? First you refuse my key. And now this.”

“… Your key?” Kondraki starts, checking for the cat. It’s not there. Realization hits all too suddenly. “Wait, you’re-?!”

“Yeah!” Clef grins, smoothing down the mess his long hair’s become. It’s messy because he’s been petting it, Kondraki realizes, horrified. “You know, Konny, I really didn’t think you’d be that comfy.”

Kondraki makes an incoherent noise, chucking the key at Clef. His coworker only laughs.

He- He’s been-

Clef is a cat. That he’s been petting.

… Kondraki’s gotten in way too deep, hasn’t he.

[justaniche]

Never Have I Ever...(accidentally) let someone meet Rebecca

heres the link to chapter 2 on ao3 

let me know what you think and happy reading!

word count: 4,622

His talk with Devi shifted from the forefront of Paxton’s mind soon after he got home. Once he finally got home and was ready to collapse, Rebecca found her way into Paxton’s room knowing of his arrival despite his exhausted attempt to hide it and with her came several and I mean  several  sketches of clothing she had drawn and that meant Paxton had to wake up and fast.

One time, Paxton, following a long day, had fallen asleep an hour into one of Rebecca’s ventures to bounce fashion ideas off of him and he had to work for weeks to make up for it. He loved his sister to death, but he was so tired he couldn’t help it and now he learned to keep energy drinks in their house for moments just like this one. In a movement perfected with repetition, Paxton grabbed a bang energy drink from his side dresser and down it while Rebecca pulled drawing after drawing out of the roll she brought with her.

Paxton hadn’t gotten in as late as he had in the past today so Rebecca had time to show him a good portion of her ideas before they had to start their movie so that they could get some sleep. Rebecca showed him a golden dress with a sequence pattern going down the left side, a take on a plaid skirt, paired with a shirt, she even shows him shoes and accessories to go with each individual outfit among many more. Becca wanted to be a fashion designer and hoped to soon apply to fashion school but she had to complete her portfolio first and did not hesitate to enlist Paxton’s help to do this.

After Becca finished showing Paxton all she wanted for the night, they settled onto the couch to watch the movie that had caught Becca’s eye 2 days prior,  After The Ball . The movie included an identity switch, a ball, and a touch of romance. It's a regular Cinderella tale with a twist, the protagonist was an aspiring fashion designer! Paxton could evidently see why it caught Rebecca’s eye. The movie ended rather quickly with Rebecca and Paxton engulfed deeply into the story although the latter tried to hide it. With the energy drink’s buzz leaving Paxton’s mind, his exhaustion followed and he was yawning despite himself. He and Rebecca exchanged goodnights and went to bed.

The next few days went off like normal, school was still new off of summer’s high and students and teachers alike needing time to bounce back, school work was nonexistent. The classes consisted of syllabi and classroom rules and expectations. This caused widespread boredom but fortunately, on this day, lunch approached rapidly and with lunch starting, Paxton found himself in the center of it all with his group of friends inside what students called  The Hotpocket.

Lunch unfolded as it always did, after they finished whatever lunch they had that day the soft hum of their light discussions broke out into full-fledged banter and laughter. Accompanying that laughter was parts of the aforementioned group messing around and sometimes engaging in ridiculous activities. Today that activity was Trent and Marcus, another close friend of theirs, battling with their lanyards. They were being dramatic as ever holding their IDs like nunchucks and swinging them about. Paxton was entangled in a lighthearted conversation with Devin, stopping on occasion to eye Trent and Marcus and laugh at their behavior.

Paxton was looking away when he heard someone exclaim “Ow. Goddamn it”. The entire Hotpocket looked up to cringe at the scene that was, apparently, a girl getting, accidentally, slapped in the face with a lanyard. Paxton’s jaw dropped slightly.

“Did I just hit you?” Marcus asks tentatively

“It’s cool” The reply from the girl, Devi, came rather fast considering her reaction from just moments ago. She adjusted her grips on her backpack straps, “Hey, Paxton, can I talk to you?”

Paxton turned towards his friend, giving him a pat and chuckling through an ‘i’ll be back’ while shifting up to stand. “Okay,” his face straightened as he followed Devi out of earshot from his friends.

“So I thought I would follow up on our conversation from the other day and ask if you wanted to hang out later?” The sentence was cool leaving her mouth, none of the ever-building anxiety leaked from her words.

Paxton had to think quickly to what Devi was referencing but it came to him milliseconds later and he blinked through his realization, “Oh, oh, you mean, uh, like, have sex?” he gave a soft smile hoping to give off a comforting vibe despite the twinge of uncomfortableness brewing in his gut. “Sure, uh, maybe” he paused to think “after school today at my place?”

Devi’s calm facade seemed to shatter and the word tripped from her mouth, eloquence long forgotten, “Today?” Her mind blanked with panic for a split second and the words  TOO SOON  flooded her brain. She hadn’t expected this.

“Yeah.”

“That’s super soon, which is great.” Devi had a feeling she was more so trying to convince herself than anyone else. “Soon is great, it’s just…” an answer popped into her head, “I have orchestra after school today, so I can’t.” she had to stall, to prepare herself but couldn’t for too long. It was a miracle that Paxton had agreed in the first place. If she messes up he could change his mind so she mindfully finished “But maybe later this week?”

Paxton wanted to laugh but held it in, he opened his mouth to answer but just exhaled. His charming smile ever-present as he answered while backtracking returning once again to the Hotpocket effectively ending the conversation. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He turned, striding away.

“Okay, great” Devi called, “We’ll compare calendars tomorrow or something. We’ll figure it out. Later, skater.”

Paxton had already begun to join Marcus and Trent in their makeshift game when he registered Devi’s continued speech, “What?” He asked but she tucked her head, shamefully, and walked away.

~~~

Succeeding lunch, the day sped up considerably. With the commencement of the last class of the day and everyone going to their lockers and then out the door, Paxton was joining them. Today there was no swim practice so Paxton was, thankfully, headed home early. That was his thought until of course his English teacher thought now would be a great time to talk to him about his supposed “lack of participation”. This normally would be something that Paxton would care about and attempt to contemplate but not now, not today when he was getting an early day to relax and who knows what else with this extra time.

It was probably 15 minutes max, but to Paxton, it felt like a lifetime. He was at his car door about to get in as someone called him from his right.

“Hey. I can actually come now. The scheduling conflict I had cleared up.” Devi stated, hands gripping her bookbag’s straps.

Paxton didn’t miss a beat, a split second earlier and he would have cut her off. He found himself buzzed with some semblance of happiness for the company. “Cool. Get in.”

“Okay.” Devi smiled and hurried t0 the passenger side of the car and climbed it as Paxton got settled and they set off.

When they got to Paxton’s house, he got Devi inside before his phone rang and he left the garage to answer the phone. The conversation was rather brief and as it was concluding Paxton re-entered the garage still speaking Japanese into his phone. He hung up.

“Sorry. That was my grandpa,” Paxton clarified, “Can I get you a drink?” he was already making his way over to the mini-fridge he kept in the garage before she could answer. He knew how these matters, if not handled carefully, could easily tip from comfortable to awkward if he didn’t mind sharp, and that was the last thing he wanted with Devi.

“Sure. Do you have any chocolate--” Devi stopped, rather abruptly, when Paxton spun around to face her, beer in hand. She grabbed it despite herself. “Ah. Beer. You read my mind.”

“All right. Well, my mom will be home soon, so...better get to it” Paxton gave a half shrug before stripping off his shirt from the bottom. If there was anything about himself that Paxton was securely confident in, it was his physical appearance. Being that Paxton was a swimmer, he could not afford to think about how others would feel about his appearance at every opportunity. Giving into potential insecure would only throw him off mentally during swim practices and comps, Paxton resolved himself a long time ago that it would help no one. So he tended to, or at least tried to, not think about it every time he showed a part of his body. Plus it’s not like any girl he was interested in who got far enough with him complained, thus taking off his shirt was no big feat and he did so without hesitation.

Devi was sort of freaking out at this point but was doing a great job of not showing it. That was until Paxton’s shirt came off. The beer she was sure she had a good grip on slipped and hit the floor with a thud. Paxton’s eyes followed it, slight confusion on his face but he didn’t comment.

“Oh.” the urge to explain the state of his chest took over, “Just so you know, I have to shave my chest for swimming, so the stubble might, like irritate your skin a little bit.” He lifted her limp hand to his chest for emphasis moving her hand to feel, he looked down following their joined hands, and then looked up making eye contact with Devi. He gave a small smile and she gaped.

“Oh, God”

Her mouth opened and closed for a few moments before her brain reconnected with her mouth. She had just touched the chest of Paxton Hall-Yoshida! Fab and Eleanor were gonna flip! But wait, her mind was now at red alert at the close proximity between her and Paxton that she’s just now processing. And so she did what any normal person would in her situation, she panicked.

“You know what? I just remembered. I have to go home,” She snatched her hand back like it was on fire leaving Paxton surprised and his hand hanging in the air as she patted his shoulders for good measure, “because I have a package coming that I need to sign for.” she nodded trying to regain her composure, it wasn’t working.

Paxton nodded and chuckled as he and Devi switched positions in her attempt to get to the door, he shoved his hands into his pockets, “Word?”

“Yeah, It’s medication for my mom’s...polio.” What the heck Devi? Polio, really?

Paxton could only nod through Devi’s hidden meltdown.

“Yeah, so…” She slowly retreated to the door through her word vomit when she misstepped and a sharp pain spread at the base of her leg, “Ow. Goddamn it!”

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” Paxton’s stance broke as he rushed forward to the injured girl. She leapt back before he could reach.

“Yep, yep. I’m fine” Devi’s aim to reassure fell short as Paxton’s concerned eyes looked closer.

“Are you sure? You’re...bleeding.” he gestured to her leg

“It’s chill. I’ll see you tomorrow” humiliation ate at Devi’s very being. She had majorly fucked up, in various departments and she was out the door before Paxton could utter another word.

Paxton was extremely bewildered and it showed on his face. With Devi gone the garage fell silent. Paxton stepped back from the door, considered his options. He could go after her or stay home and like she said, see her the following day. He weighed it and decided against trying to catch up to her. She really did seem like she just wanted him to think she was fine and to leave it alone, he wanted to respect that. His gaze swept the floor before it landed on the theorized perpetrator. It was sharpish, in a box on the floor, and sticking out in his direction; one of Paxton’s old swim trophies. He crouched down with a sigh as he picked up the award and rolled it around in his hands examining it. At the very tip was a trace amount of blood, where it had punctured Devi’s cafe. Paxton could not help but think about how strange that was, try as he had to make the whole interaction go as smoothly as possible there was no predicting that and therefore no thwarting it. With the knowledge that there was nothing Paxton could do to help the situation with Devi gone, Paxton shrugged his shirt back on and proceeded with his day.

~~~

Contrary to what Devi said and to what Paxton thought, Paxton did not see Devi the entire school day. He found himself expecting to see her somewhere but always fell short when she was nowhere to be seen. The end of the day came and once again no practice, coach explained it as a new regime he was trying out, sorting out on days and off days and said it would vary until he decided what worked. Paxton was restless after two days and decided on a run after he got home.

He was finishing up his 2-mile run when he saw Devi pacing in front of his house, he ran up behind her. “Sup,” he panted, her response was a scream as he had seemed to startle her. He smirked faintly, “I’m just finishing up a run,” Paxton began. He wanted to get her talking, particularly about why he found her in front of his house talking to herself. He was vaguely relieved to see her but ignored that.

“Okay, cool” she crossed her arms, her demeanor chill. “So do you need to stretch or something, or are you good to just go into your garage and have sex with me?” The words marched from her mouth clear and confident. Let us take a minute to appreciate both the awkwardness of that sentence and applaud the boldness of it.

“Um…” Caught off guard Paxton frowned deeply into his shrug, “I’m good to go to the garage.” She struts passed, her head held high, and as soon as she did Paxton swiftly lifted his shoulder to sniff his armpit, reassuring himself that he did in fact not smell. He pivoted and followed her inside.

Unfortunately, the blind confidence coming from Devi’s words did not translate well into action. That is how they found themselves sitting on Paxton’s couch, Devi’s arm along the back of it, their vicinity too close to not be at least talking and the tension was building. Paxton looked to her for a move and Devi jumped on it.

“So, here we are…” she weirdly stroked from his collarbone down, the tone from outside back on, “about to pleasure each other.”

Paxton did not know if he should be weirded out by her word choice but Devi was proving, with every meeting, to be not like any of the other girls he tends to interact with. He nodded vaguely but when she tapped his nose twice he couldn’t stop his eyebrows from coming together, what exactly was happening?

“But before I can rock your world, I need to freshen up.”

Paxton couldn’t decide if Devi did not see anything wrong with this whole situation or if she was choosing to ignore it, that decision would dictate how he would respond so he needed to figure it out and soon.

“Can you point me in the direction of the ladies’ room? I wouldn’t wanna pee in the middle of doing it.” One point for ignoring the problems, zero for not seeing them. There’s no way she didn’t realize how that sounded coming from her mouth but her face gave no emotion but certainty.

Paxton wasn’t sure if he should respond to the second part but did anyway although the words came slowly full of apprehension, as he lifted his finger in the direction of the bathroom. “Yeah, that’d be bad. First door on the right.”

“Thanks” With that Devi was gone.

Paxton breathed a sigh of relief, he couldn’t think properly with her here. She came back on a new day seemingly ready to have sex despite yesterday’s debacle. The odd opening word choice might have been endearing had it not been followed by a tense silence and more questionable sentence phrasing. It was quickly bordering on uncomfortable but awkwardness was a natural occurrence in sex so this was not a real reason to bail. He just had to wrap his head around her way of speaking and this would be fine. Paxton repeated this in his head, this will be fine.

Several minutes had gone by and Devi had yet to return. Paxton got up from his position on the couch to find her, she really should not have gotten lost. He checked the bathroom to no avail and stopped confused then he continued down the hallway when he heard voices coming from Rebecca’s room.

“I’m Devi. It’s nice to meet you.” Paxton turned glimpsing into Rebecca’s room to see her shaking hands with Devi. Irritation started to build in Paxton’s chest.

“What are you doing?” He directed at Devi but didn’t wait for a response before addressing his sister, “Becca, I thought you were at work.”

Paxton walked deeper into the room, “I switched with Lisa. She gets her braces off tomorrow.” Rebecca explained, satisfied with the answer he received, Paxton turned back to Devi.

“You said you were just going to the bathroom. What the hell?” The irritation was quickly turning to anger at Devi having met his sister. If people knew about Rebecca things could turn ugly, fast.

“Wait. Are you mad at me or something?” The disbelief Devi felt was clear on her face, what was the problem here?

Paxton simply didn’t respond, the budding anger brewing substantially at her attempt to play coy. He walked clear out of Rebecca’s room without a word, his expectation was clear, she was wearing her welcome thin, and she was to go with him outside.

“Why are you sneaking around my house and talking to my sister?” Paxton was comfortable to let his annoyance into his voice with his sister out of earshot.

“Was I not supposed to? I didn’t even know that you had a sister.” Her voice was soft as she tried to get him to understand the genuine misunderstanding but it was far from working and Paxton was too cross to see reason right now. Come on Devi, read the room. Paxton saw this as a jab,

“Oh, you think I’m hiding her now, because I’m embarrassed of her or something?” It was definitely a question but he certainly did not want a response. Seeing someone with his sister sent Paxton into a sort of panic mode. Devi was going to go to school and tell everyone all about his sister and hell if he wasn’t going to get in a lot of fights defending her.

“No, I didn’t say that,” Devi stated, slightly defensive at the attack.

“Okay.” He didn’t believe her for a second as he looked away trying to gather himself, he wanted her out now. He shook his head as the words came out his mouth spiced with venom, “I don’t think this is gonna work. All right, you should probably just go.”

Devi felt the air forced from her lungs leaving her speechless, she knew there was nothing more she could say and honestly couldn’t find the words either way. She gave him one last look before leaving.

Paxton went inside, not stopping to see her go, so many emotions flowed through him but most of all he was scared. Scared of what people would say and all because he didn’t think to make sure Rebecca wasn’t home before he invited Devi inside. He was scared because he loved his sister and could not deal with people and their ignorant words and dumbass opinions but he was helpless. Paxton could not stop people from talking, couldn’t stop Devi from sharing. And Paxton hated feeling this way, the powerlessness ate at him because he was meant to always take care of his sister. So he bundled the emotions up into something he could control, aggravation, and directed it at the person who triggered the emotions, Devi.

~~~

The day passed and Devi and the situation with Becca plagued Paxton’s mind. He was upset, yes but he was also rational enough to know that he couldn’t completely blame his feelings on Devi but he was at a loss. He had accused her and gotten mad entirely too quickly. He now felt stuck between his emotions and the urge to talk to her, to say what? Paxton wasn’t sure as of yet but he couldn’t speak to her, he didn’t know how to.

~~~

Morning classes were a bore especially considering Paxton’s mind was not exactly on task so he found himself once again immensely thankful for lunch’s social reprieve. Paxton was surrounded by his friends and he could almost forget that something was bothering him. That was until the person Paxton was consciously avoiding called to him.

“Paxton, can I talk to you?”

The liveliness among the group died briefly before light laughter spread between them. Paxton’s energy dropped but it did not climb with the rest of his friends’. Paxton looked over, face straight, his eyes met with the expectant Devi. She sort of looked how he felt but he couldn’t compel his body to make a move. His eyes dropped from hers unable to maintain the contact with shame stewing over his behavior. Without a word to Devi, Paxton turned to his friends and continued to converse.

~~~

There was a chance although slight that Paxton held on to that he would not run into Devi during lunch. That did not work out. There was no chance that he could go to their  shared  history class and not be at a close distance seeing as he sat in front of her. He sat in front of her trying to focus but his mind was racing and he was dumbfounded.

He still didn’t know what to say. The reasons to simply ignore her compiled, her meeting Becca, his anger, his reaction, and now him disregarding her at lunch. He was making this worse instead of better, he knew this but he couldn’t figure out how to fix it. He hated being mean to people, he hated to leave things unsettled, but this time was different. He couldn’t get a grasp on the words that would make this better, so he chose not to say anything at all.

~~~

That night Paxton laid down, progressively his pent up energy was coming to a head and it was coming out as restlessness. Once he had gotten home, Paxton ran until he was spent but still he was unable to relax. He had done a series of activities including various workouts, watching movies, and cooking but nothing was untangling the knot he felt in his chest. The complete stress he felt at being a jerk to Devi. Paxton had to do something. He felt okay at first but it has gotten so much worse in such a short span of time.

He had to talk to her, and not tomorrow, no he needed to apologize tonight, right now. So he grabbed his keys and started to walk to Devi’s house. Thinking about it in a way that makes sense, he would have reached her sooner had he driven but Paxton wasn’t thinking. He was going totally on emotion and that was causing him to act rashly. He made it to Devi’s house relatively quickly and he rang the doorbell before processing a thought. When his finger released the doorbell, he took a breath that finally felt like it entered his lungs. Within moments a woman was answering the door,

“Hello?” she began, despite the door being wide open. She appeared suspicious of the unknown young man who stood at her door at this hour. “Can I help you with something?”

“Um...yes I am sorry to bother you but is Devi home?” He realized at that moment the strangeness of his request and how it could be taken considering when he had shown up.

“Hold on” The woman disappeared, leaving her door open and Paxton again was left to wait.

Paxton took a breath to help calm himself then turned to face the door upon hearing the shuffling of footsteps and was relieved to see Devi at the door.

“Hey”

“Hi”

The greeting was short as they both caught sight of Nalini Vishwakumar, Devi’s mom, leaning along the top of the staircase, eavesdropping not so subtly. Devi could not have her mom listening in. Devi did not know what this conversation would entail but given the nature of her past talks with Paxton, her asking him to have sex with her after all, she could not have her mom hearing that. She would very possibly kill her.

“Let’s talk over here” Devi offered, walking outside and shutting the door behind her. Once they were at a safe distance, Paxton let what was bothering his mind spill out.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for yesterday. I’m just kind of protective of my sister. She used to get bullied pretty bad...even by people I thought were my friends. I guess I’ve always been a little too protective. Like, when my parents first adopted her, I used to sit by her bed every night with a Nerf gun. That’s why our cat only has one eye now.” Paxton finished slowly, slightly embarrassed that a funny story had turned into him admitting to mistakenly hurting their family cat.

Paxton did not know why exactly he was sharing so much with Devi but it felt nice. It started to seem to Paxton that he did not think about every word when it came to Devi. It was weird but it was nice to share this with someone.

“Paxton, I would never make fun of your sister. She’s super fashionable and way cooler than me.” They were sharing a laugh at that blatantly honest remark when Devi’s mom knocking on the window interrupted them.

“No laughing.” She warned

“Mom!”

Paxton had to interject, recalling something Devi had said in his garage, he lifted his hand in greeting. “I’m so sorry about your polio, Doctor Vishwakumar.”

“What?” Nalini shot back but she didn’t care for an answer and that showed when she let the curtain fall.

“Well, thanks for the apology. If we’re cool, should we meet in your garage tomorrow?” Devi’s tone was hopeful but Paxton had other plans. He made a face.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s a good idea anymore. It just got weird, you know?” He felt a lot better and his voice took on a relaxed feel.

Despite the disappointment Devi felt, she played it off, she scoffed “Yeah, sure. I was gonna say the same thing too.”

Paxton smiled and Devi gave a small one back, “Okay.” His words felt final and they knew their conversation was coming to an end. “Well, uh...I’ll see you at school.”

Paxton, pleased with the way the talk went, began his trek home and Devi dejectedly retreated back into her house. Paxton was once again walking away from Devi, but this time there was a difference. This time, Paxton looked back.

[psycho-slytherin]

Last words

You go undercover and encounter the last thing you’d expect as an assassin– competition.

Pairing: Spy!Jungkook x Assassin!Reader

Genre: Angst, idiots to idiots


Warnings: Strong language, violence, murder


WC: kill me 8.9k


|mlist|

“Please let me go. Please! I have a family! My husband, my daughters…” tears stream down your target’s face as he struggles with his restraints.

“Your family isn’t paying me,” you reply, finger twitching on the trigger. Why is he trying to evoke sympathy? You don’t do sympathy, and you certainly don’t let targets go.

“I-If it’s money you want, I’ll pay!”

You lower the muzzle. “How much?”

“Uh, twenty thousand? Please, just spare me!”

You suck on your teeth, raising the gun again. “No can do, they’re paying me more.” Maybe if he’d suggested an offer worth considering, you’d take longer to think about it. As it is...

“Wait-” But the man is cut off when you pull the trigger, and a neat hole appears in his head. His lifeless body slumps forward, but given that he was already on his knees he doesn’t have far to fall. The range was close enough that your bullet went right through him, and you pick it up with gloved hands. It’s always a good idea to collect whatever evidence you can. 

People seem to think that a person’s last words are thoughtful, deep, artistic. You’ve been present for a lot of last words, and they’re rarely beautiful. Usually wait or no or fuck you. There’s little glamour in your line of work– unless your clients pay extra.

You pad downstairs. The old warehouse you brought him to is scheduled to be demolished in five hours. Another clean hit, and some good commission.

~~~ Three weeks later

“What’ve you got for me?”

You can hear AD typing quickly over the phone. “You’re in luck. Where are you?” Code for new assignment. Are you alone?

“I’m safe.” You’re staying at a farmhouse, far from civilization as you wait for your next hit. No cameras, no mics, no company. 

“Alright, name’s Bang Si-Hyuk, he goes by ‘Hitman’ Bang ‘cause he plays dirty with his guards. He hires killers-turned-security, and he’s always surrounded. The man’s got half the underground– and way too many politicians– in his pocket.”

“Dude. Are you giving me an assignment or a goddamn death sentence?”

“It’s a forty-five thousand dollar job. What are you gonna say to that?”

You whistle. Your assignments usually range from fifteen to thirty thousand– above forty is halfway to ridiculous. “Yes sir.”

AD chuckles. “That’s what I thought. We’re gonna send an anonymous death threat his way so he starts hiring again– you’re playing bodyguard, got it?”

“I got it. Rough-and-tumble.”

“Yep. Your character is basically gonna be you, but lamer. We’ve got documents and ID waiting for you at the drop location. Your interview is this Friday, dress code is mean. I’m sending all the info to your phone.”

“Sounds good. How long will this take me?”

“However long it takes for you to get close to Hitman. Y/n, be careful, okay? You’re gonna be surrounded by a lot of professionals with your background. You have to confirm Hitman was your kill, so don’t let anyone get to him first. And you can’t afford to let your cover slip.”

You scoff. “When have I ever let my cover slip, AD?”

“Just take care. If you get hurt, I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces, figuratively or otherwise.”

~~~ Friday

“Next!” 

You stand and stalk into the gym. It’s empty, save for two men sitting behind a desk and a gigantic guy in the boxing ring.

“Name?”

“Kang Soo-Jin.”

“Yeah, we got her,” one of the men says, shuffling some papers. “I thought she’d be bigger.”

“I thought she’d be a man. So, Kang,” the first man looks you up and down from over sunglasses. “What’ve you got?”

“I was a killer-for-hire for five years,” you recite in a bored voice. You’re using enough of your real life to ensure your character’s authenticity, but not so much that they’ll recognize your reputation. “Forty confirmed kills. Turned to security after a jail scare. I’m fluent in six languages, and I can bullshit my way through four more. Trained in multiple martial arts– fighting dirty’s more fun, though– and ‘bout every weapon I could get my hands on. I’m educated enough to talk smarts and lived on the streets enough to talk shit. What else you wanna know?” Technically your kill count is sixty-two, but you’re supposed to have retired from the life you’re leading now. Like AD said– yourself, but lamer.

Sunglasses flips through your profile. “Can you fight in that outfit?”

You’re wearing black boots, sweatpants, and a longsleeve with a leather jacket. Gotta look the part, and the dress code was mean. “Better than anyone.”

“You’re confident, girlie. Prove it. Get into the ring.”

Thanks to AD, you knew this would be part of the interview. You’re not worried– you’ve been fighting men bigger and stronger than you since you were a kid.

“Are you armed?” Sunglasses asks as you shrug off your jacket.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Very funny, girlie. This is hand-to-hand only. No guns, no knives. No tasers or other bullshit.”

In view of the three men, you remove two handguns from their hidden holsters and a knife from a sheath on your hip. You’ve got another knife on your thigh, but they don’t need to know about that. You slip into the ring, stretching your arms above your head to loosen up. 

“Alright, Kang, let’s see what you can do. No killing, try not to break any bones– besides that, fuck shit up.” Sunglasses signals, and the giant in the ring stomps towards you.

He’s big and strong. You’re small and fast, and unarmed.

“If you can’t win, run. If you can’t run, hide. If you can’t hide, fight. If you can’t fight, lie.” Such is the assassin’s motto.

Wasting no time, the giant swings a fist at you. You jump backwards, ducking and weaving around an onslaught of blows. This guy is trained, well enough that you can’t afford to slip up. Still, you’re not one to go all-out unless you need to; you need to fight just well enough to get hired, and badly enough that you can take your employers by surprise if you must.

The next time he throws out a hook, you duck and roll forward, ending up behind him. He turns around, shifting his weight onto one foot as he steps, and that’s your chance. You swing your leg down and around, connecting solidly with the back of his knee. 

“Ugh!” With a grunt, he falls forward. Like any trained fighter would, though, he begins to rise right away. You know grappling is a big no-no for opponents bigger than you, but he’s right there, and given that you’re not allowed to put a blade in his back, it might be the quickest way of ending this performance. In the split second before he’s standing, you leap onto his back, scrambling until you’re sitting on his shoulders. You have to move fast– if you can’t neutralize him quickly, he can just fall backwards and pin you down, or grab your legs and launch you forward. You lock your legs around the giant’s neck and squeeze– it’s what you’ve nicknamed the Romanov chokehold, given how much the Avenger utilizes this inconvenient move.

The giant gasps for air, punching and slapping at your legs. You hiss, withstanding the blows of a struggling man. You can feel his strikes growing weaker as you keep up the pressure, squeezing your thighs tighter around his throat. 

Are you actually going to win a fight with the Romanov chokehold? You’re gonna owe AD fifty bucks, dammit.

Suddenly, you feel the man’s arms snake upwards and grab your hands, which were locked under his chin. He pulls hard, yanking you off– you land flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you. You can hear Sunglasses and the other man chuckling. Ugh. You don’t like embarrassing yourself, but whatever it takes to convince them you’re not a threat. 

If you can’t fight, lie.

You get up, chuckling ignoring your aching back. “Nice. I bet you win all your fights this easy, huh?”

The giant raises his fists, tensed, on guard. “You ain’t distractin’ me, girl.”

“Who says I’m trying to distract you?” You throw a quick punch, aiming right for the center of his face. Conventional deflections mean that he’ll parry to one side or the other. Lucky for you, he’s conventionally trained. As your fist glances off his block, you use the movement to grab his ear and pinch his earlobe between your nails. You’ve got a lot of experience with which body parts can withstand the most pain before there’s a protective reflex. Earlobes have one of the lowest thresholds, which means...

“Ah! What the fuck?” He claps his hand over his ear, forcing you to let go. Perfect. He’s right where you need him. With his arms raised to protect his sensitive ears, you have a chance to lunge forward. He might think you’re going for his eyes or throat, but you have another goal in mind. 

You open your mouth and bite down hard on his bicep, your canines grinding together as though trying to meet through his flesh. You know from your training, and from personal experience, that biting this particular bit of skin and muscle hurts like a bitch. The giant roars in pain and stumbles in an attempt to pry you off of him, and you use his imbalance to grab his shirt and pull him backwards. He lands with a resounding THUD and, teeth still digging into his arm, you press your elbow into his throat, cutting off circulation for the few precious seconds that you need...to...win. As soon as his eyes flutter closed and his head falls back, you release your hold. 

You climb out of the ring to see Sunglasses and the other man staring at you.

“I broke skin, you’re gonna want to make sure he gets that disinfected,” you supply, reaching for your jacket.

“You… you pinched and bit him. What kind of fighter are you?” Sunglasses scratches his head, his voice revealing disbelief.

“The kind that does what she has to do. You told me not to break bones or kill. All I did was fuck shit up.”

Sunglasses whistles. “Welcome to the team, Kang. You’ve got the job.”

~~~ Monday

You’re dressed in your new uniform. Sunglasses, whose name you’ve learned is Agent Jung, introduces you to “the team”: Agents Kim, Kim, and Kim; Agent Park; and Agent Jeon. Of course you’re the only woman on a seven-person team. In your line of work, that’s not uncommon. 

“I’m in charge around here. That means I say jump, y’all ask how high, got it? Aight. Here’s the deal– three guards will be present with Mr. Bang at all times,” Agent Jung says. “The other four of you will be split into pairs to patrol the area. Six-hour shifts, and you will work two shifts per day. Agents Kim Taehyung, Park, and myself will take the first shift with Mr. Bang. Agents Kim Seokjin and Namjoon, take the east half of the estate. Agents Jeon and Kang, the west half. Stick together so nothing goes wrong. Meet back here in six hours to exchange posts. Dismissed.”

Dammit, how easy would it have been if you had the first shift with Hitman? It’s fine, you’ll just play along as a good guard until you can get closer to your target. 

You follow Jeon through the labyrinth of a house, which seems more like a castle. Where is this guy getting his money?

“Okay,” Agent Jeon says, stopping suddenly. “Let’s split up.”

What? “Jung said not to.”

Jeon folds his arms, raising a brow. “And you’re going to obey?”

You exhale sharply. “I’m going to do the job I was hired to do.” Splitting up and disobeying on your first day will cast you under scrutiny and suspicion. You have to play the good girl for now. 

“Whatever,” Jeon chuckles. “I’m going.”

“Really, dude? You’re gonna get me in trouble. At least wait for a shift when we’re not paired together.”

“Why should I care about a girl who can’t even fight?” Oy vey. Is he provoking you on purpose? “I can fight fine, man.”

“Prove it.”

Why is he challenging you? What is with him? “We’re on duty,” you snap. “Quit slacking off and let’s do the work we’re paid for.”

Jeon whistles. “Feisty.”

“Shove it up your ass, Agent. I don’t need another man telling me I’m in the wrong line of work.”

“Oh, so I’m just one in a long list of shitheads, huh?” Jeon leans against the wall. You remain standing straight up– you don’t know the last time you’ve let down your guard. 

“You wouldn’t make top twenty,” you reply. 

“Yeesh. I get the message. Well, since we’re gonna be stuck together for a while…” Jeon sticks out his hand. “Call me Jungkook.”

Unexpected. But okay. “I’m Soo-Jin. Are you new, too?”

“I’ve been here about a month. The longer you’ve been here, the more they trust you as one of the boss’s personal guards. Trust me, you’re gonna be stuck on perimeter patrol for a while,” Jungkook says, as though he knows what you’re thinking.

Dammit. This job is going to cost more time than you were hoping. Still, 45k, 45k, eye on the prize.

“So, six hours. Do we talk, or…?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Do you want to talk?”

“Not if you’re going to keep on with the misogynistic digs.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Sorry about that,” Jungkook says, laughing as he raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll be less of an asshole, promise.”

You smirk, turning to scan the halls. “It’s so empty.” Two cameras on the eastern wall. A big mirror at the end of the hall– is it a two-way mirror? Probably. The ceiling is well supported by strong beams. You could probably escape to the roof if you needed to, but how much of an escape is that? 

“So what’s your thing?” Jungkook asks suddenly, snapping you out of your stupor.

“What d’you mean?”

“I heard you’re an ex-assassin, and like, all of the best have a thing. Did you mark your bullets?” Jungkook taps his gun. “Were you a Robin Hood? Did you kiss all your victims?”

“Gross, man!” You laugh. Clearly the only experience he’s had with your line of work is through movies. Why’s this puppy working for Hitman? “No, I never kissed a dead body. Never stole from the rich and gave to the poor, unless the poor was yours truly and the rich were stubborn clients. And marking bullets messes with the aerodynamics.” You’re worried that you’re being too honest, telling him about your life– what if he’s an undercover cop? But Hitman’s men were double- and triple-checking applications, according to AD. Besides, Hitman has every police department in the area feeding from his hand. 

“So what was your thing then? Did you have a signature?” In Jeon’s eyes you can see the excitement of a child. 

“The best signature for someone like me is the lack of a signature. And what’s got you so happy?” You ask amusedly. 

“Oh, I mean…” And Jeon’s voice has dropped again to that of a seasoned guard. “I grew up thinking I’d be a cop. Circumstances didn’t work out, and I landed myself a security job. I always wanted to do what you did, though. Never had the guts for it.”

“Trust me, it’s nothing to be jealous of.” You think of cold evenings on rooftops, unnerving undercover work, hopeless spirals with the monster in the mirror. “It means a lot of lonely nights.”

“Well, you won’t be so lonely anymore,” Jungkook says, before turning red. “Wait- that came out wrong. I’m not hitting on you, I swear!”

“Good, ‘cause you’d be doing a terrible job.”

“I’m a great flirt when I want to be,” he replies, his tone dramatic.

You snicker. “I’d take a page out of your book and ask you to prove it, but I’d hate to watch you embarrass yourself in front of a pretty girl.”

Jungkook whistles. “Did you just insult me and compliment yourself in the same sentence? It looks like I’ve met my match.”

Oof, cute and funny. And he hasn’t called you ��girlie” once. You’d better end this before you let yourself get too carried away. It’s just a job, and he’s just an obstacle between you and your 45,000-dollar target.

“It looks like you’re slacking on the job, Jeon.” You’ve reached the end of the hall, and so you spin on your heel and begin marching back the way you came, scanning your surroundings. If another assassin got to Hitman first, your prize money and reputation would go down the drain. Play the character, don’t be suspicious, and don’t get attached. 

“Sheesh, don’t be so uptight,” Jeon says, hurrying after you. 

“Whatever, let’s just patrol.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeon replies sarcastically.

The rest of the shift is spent in relative silence. After several hours, you and Jungkook head back to the main room to meet with the other agents. This transition period might be the best time for you to strike, you’ll have to mention that to AD.

The next shift is your break, and after commenting about how tired you are, you head ‘home’. That is, you drop your things at a safehouse, along with any identification, and change into civilian clothing: baggy, boring, anonymous. You fit your earpiece in and contact AD.

“Y/n?”

“AD, hi. I’m gonna scout the perimeter of the estate now, alright?”

“Keep me posted, I’ll be on the line.”

“Yep.”

It’s well past midnight when you arrive at the estate again. You always spend the first night on an undercover job toeing the property line, so to speak.

“It’s like robbing a bank,” you murmur as the house comes into view. “Only harder, ‘cause at least in a bank the only armed murderer is me.”

“Eyes on the prize, y/n.”

“Yeah, whatever. Cameras on the southern and eastern walls. The gate’s heavy– I could climb it, but…”

“Hitman got one of the best security firms in the country to rig it, that shit’s electric.”

“Right. The grass is soft, not a great sign… maybe if I wore the work shoes they gave me? I’m leaving footprints either way.”

“Those shoes are your size, and it’s not amateur hour ‘round here. Did you manage to get the WiFi?”

“They didn’t give it to us. But there’s a network called ‘Bang 5G’ so at least you know it’s there– hey!”

“Y/n? What’s going-” you don’t hear him, you’re too busy sprinting after a black-clad figure. With gloved hands, the person gets a grip and vaults clean over the gate, landing on their feet on the grass beyond.

“AD, someone just scaled the electrified fucking gate,” you pant. Even with gloves, that’s crazy.

“Go after them! You can’t let someone get to Hitman first.”

“How do I get over the gate?”

“I’m not the legendary assassin with sixty-two confirmed kills! Figure it out!”

“Dick.” You look around wildly– the gates are connected at the corners of the estate by brick pillars. Good. That’s something. You run at the pillar closest to you and leap, scrambling up and over it using only the power of adrenaline and your poor fingertips. You land hard, sinking into the soft grass of the lawn, and look up in time to see the figure running along the edge of the roof. How did he get up there? And where’s his climbing gear? The walls are smooth, vertical, with no handholds to speak of on the lower fifteen feet. 

If you can’t get up, bring them down. You withdraw your handgun and line up your shot. You might not be an acrobat, but you can shoot.

You pull the trigger, the bringer of death a familiar weight in your hands. You don’t kill unless you’re paid for it, though. The bullet grazes your target and you see them stumble, clutching their side. With one backwards glance at you, they catapult themselves off the roof and land on their feet on the other side of the gate. What the fuck. What kind of strength does this person have?

“Y/n? I heard a shot, what’s going on?” AD speaks urgently into your ear.

“Abort.”

“What?”

You start running back to the gate. “Fucking abort, AD. We’re done for tonight. Someone else is after Hitman.” You launch yourself at the brick pillar and land hard on the sidewalk outside the estate. 

“Shit. But we knew this could happen, he’s not exactly popular.”

“Fine, but tonight was supposed to be a casing night. My footprints are on the grass!”

You hear AD mutter something like “amateur” as he types. “Did you get caught on camera?”

“Probably? I also shot a guy, if that’s relevant.”

“It’s really not. Okay, I’m gonna hack into their system– which would be easier with the WiFi password, by the way– and keep you off the footage. Your excuse for your next shift is up to you. Take a couple hours and sleep it off, y/n. It’s not like you to be this reckless.”

“Fuck you.”

~~~ Six hours later

“Agent Jeon, Agent Kang, take the east wing of the estate. Dismissed.”

“C’mon, this way.” Jungkook leads you down a long corridor as you begin your next shift.

“Right.”

“Hey, you okay?” Jungkook looks at you with concern. “You seem tired.”

“Six hours of sleep will do that to a person, dude.” Six? Try three, if you got any at all. You’re exhausted, yeah, but you’ve never let that stop you from doing your job.

“Heh, yeah. This work schedule is intense, but the pay is good.” 

“And not much seems to happen, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs, then seems to wince. “Not since I’ve worked here. We get trespassers sometimes, but they just leave when we tell them to.”

“You okay?”

Jungkook looks at the floor. “Yeah, turns out I fell asleep on top of my dog’s toy. The only time I get to sleep, and I wake up hurting like a bitch. How’s that for unfair?”

“Aw, poor baby.”

Jungkook pushes you playfully. “Hey!”

The contact sets your nerves on edge. Danger. You grab his outstretched arm and twist it behind his back, pressing hard enough to almost dislocate his shoulder, your vision is cloudy, tinged red–

“Ow! Kang– fuck! Soo-Jin!”

You blink once, twice. What… what are you doing? You release your hold on Jungkook; did you really just break character like that? No, wait, you can make this work. “I’m sorry– ah, shit.” You step back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Jungkook groans, rubbing his shoulder. “What was that?”

“Just an instinct. One of the leftovers from the person I used to be.” You avert your gaze, your body language ashamed. Jungkook seems to take the bait. But… how much can it count as bait, if it’s so true it hurts?

“Hey, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have startled you.” He flashes you a grin, and you feel your heart do something funny in your chest. “I can’t imagine the stuff you’ve been through.”

Why is he acting sympathetic? You don’t do sympathy. But yeah, getting closer to the other guards can’t hurt on a mission like this. You’re in this for the long haul, if last night’s acrobat doesn’t get to Hitman first.

“We’ve all got our own shit to deal with,” you reply.

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to…” Jungkook shrugs, wincing again. “Goddamn Gureum, leaving his toy on my bed.”

You laugh. “I’ll keep it in mind, but I don’t think therapy will add to my intimidation resume.”

The hours pass quicker once you allow yourself to talk to Jungkook more. You know he has to be cold-blooded, and a skilled fighter, if he landed the job. But every time he laughs, every time he stares out into space and seems to forget even to breathe, you wonder where he hides his bloodlust. 

“Damn, I never knew an assassin could have a sense of humor,” Jungkook says eventually. “None of the other agents here ever want to do anything except patrol.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes. “That is our job.”

Jungkook sweeps his arm grandly, displaying the estate. It’s empty, save several guards. “Ah yes, look at the multitude of threats we face.”

You think of the acrobat from last night. “Right.”

“Anyways, wanna fight?”

For a second you think you’ve misheard him. “Excuse me? Haven’t we been over this?”

Jungkook shifts his weight, cracking his knuckles. “I heard you bit your way to a win during your interview.”

“So what?”

“I want to see your fighting style– c’mon, how does a professional assassin take someone out with teeth and claws? You’re not a cat, there’s gotta be something else to you.”

“I hate to break it to you, but there wasn’t a lot of close combat in my work. A good assassin never fights fair. And, if you haven’t noticed…” you step up close to him, your eyes only level with his collarbone. You’re so close you can hear his breathing become ragged, shallow, as you continue: “I’m small. Shooting from a distance, backstabbing, incapacitating my targets– that’s what people like me do.”

In truth, you’ve had your fair share of combat. But letting Jungkook see that side of you? Not a good idea.

“Then why quit?”

“What?”

“I get it– you’re an assassin, not a fighter. But why go into security?”

“I almost got caught,” you recite automatically. “My skills aren’t super transferrable– I didn’t have a lot of options.”

“Speak for yourself, I think you’d make a great birthday clown,” Jungkook laughs, and you smile along with him. Too bad he doesn’t know the real you– or maybe it’s a good thing. No one could love a monster.

You knew what you were getting into when you started down your path. You accepted that you’d be a changed woman– what you didn’t know was that your eyes wouldn’t be the same as they were before. Each time you see yourself anew, you confront the humanity that’s drained from your face. Your eyes have begun to resemble your targets’– dull, unfeeling, dead. 

You’re a monster. A killer. You snuff out lives for money. There’s no going back to the girl you were, and no point in regret. And so each morning, you take a deep breath and lie. To yourself, AD, and everyone. It’s okay. I’m okay.

Fuck, maybe you should see a therapist. 

After your shift, you spend the next six hours staking out Hitman’s estate. The acrobat doesn’t return, and you grind your teeth together with anxiety. “AD, did you see him on the footage that you hacked?”

“Just the mask. His body language is right-hand and left-leg dominant. This guy’s training is super unconventional; I haven’t seen that climbing style anywhere.”

“Ugh, so weird.”

“Says you.”

“Shut up, asshat.”

AD sniggers. “Look, you did shoot this guy today. Have you considered that you’ve either, like, injured him badly or scared him off?”

“No. He’s still around, and he’s going to try again.”

“How do you know?”

Because he’s like me. “I just do.”

You can almost hear AD’s shrug. “Aight, trust your instincts. Your next shift is soon, though. Better get ready.”

You groan. “This work schedule is brutal.”

“And you’re spending your time off stalking a ghost. Are you planning on getting any sleep?”

You hesitate a second too long. “Yes.”

AD sighs. “Take care of yourself, idiot. You can’t guard the house 24/7. You’re spending half the day working, remember?”

“That’s what I’ve got you for. Keep an eye on the cameras.”

“Get me the Wi-Fi password and I’ll think about it.”

You roll your eyes before heading back to your safehouse, changing, and returning for your shift. Here we go.

And there you went. The next week passes much in the same fashion– patrolling the wings of the vast estate for six or twelve hours, sleeping the bare minimum you need to survive, and returning to your target’s house to make sure the mystery acrobat doesn’t get to Hitman first.

You spend most of your patrol time with Jungkook; it makes sense, you’re the two newest recruits. For a security goon, he’s pretty funny. You’ve dealt with security guards in the past for your jobs, but most of your interactions involved them trying to kill you– or vice versa. For all that you’re undercover as Kang Soo-Jin, you’re actually enjoying spending time with Agent Jeon Jungkook.

“Why are you working for Mr. Bang?” You ask him on Monday morning. You haven’t spoken with Jungkook in a couple days, as you were paired with Agent Park for your last several shifts.

Jungkook cocks his head as you stroll together along the west side of the estate, a route you’ve already committed to memory. “What do you mean?”

It’s been bothering you for a while. “Mr. Bang tends to hire killers, mercenaries, people like… well, me. Why did you take this job?”

Jungkook chews on his lip thoughtfully as he stares out of the window. “I mean… the pay is good.”

You shove him playfully. “C’mon, man, there’s gotta be something else.”

“Alright, alright!” Jungkook raises his arms in surrender, laughing. “You know I wanted to be an assassin. I was too chicken, and never knew how to get started. When I heard about Mr. Bang, and his reputation, I applied because I wanted to meet people like you. I told Agent Jung I had lots of experience and loose morals, and bada-bing-bada-boom, I get hired.” He does what you assume would have been jazz hands, if not for the gun held tightly in his grip.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re such an idiot,” you snort. “When most people try to meet their idols, they go to concerts, not to a den of killers.”

“What can I say? It’s one of my many charms,” Jungkook replies, winking. Your heart does another thing in your chest. It reminds you of the feeling of jumping into a cold lake– as though your whole body has come alive.

You hope that once you carry out your mission, you won’t have to hurt Agent Jeon along the way. 

“Hey, so…” Jungkook asks after several minutes of patrolling in silence. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“Huh?” For a second, you think you’ve misheard him. “You mean in the twelve hours until I have to be back?” You pulled a double shift– it’s nearing noon, and you’ve been working since midnight.

“Dummy, we don’t have work this weekend,” Jungkook says. “Mr. Bang is going on a business trip. Weren’t you paying attention during the briefing?”

Not even a little were you paying attention– you were too focused on escape routes. You might be able to drug his food? “Sweet.” And you mean it: With Hitman gone, you can catch up on sleep and plotting without having to worry about your competition.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out– y’know, outside of work? I really want to get to know you better.”

“Uh…” Huh? This isn’t part of your plan. You don’t hang out with targets during a mission. So you should say no, right? But… what harm can come from spending time with your coworker? After all, you are undercover. And if Hitman is leaving for the weekend…

You realize you’ve been silent too long when Jungkook begins to backtrack: “I mean- Soo-Jin, sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply– you know what, never mind-”

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Wait, what?”

You allow your lips to curl upward into a smile. “Sure, why not?” There’s no way it can endanger your mission.

“Awesome!” Jungkook returns your grin enthusiastically, and for the rest of the shift he walks with a spring in his step. It would be endearing, if your heart weren’t frozen and locked in your chest. “Maybe we can do lunch or something. Is tomorrow okay? Do you want me to pick you up at your place?”

“No, that’s okay,” You say hurriedly. Definitely not, no one can know the location of the safehouse. “Lunch tomorrow sounds good, we can meet there.”

“Ah- okay, yeah.”

As your shift comes to an end and the guards reconvene, Agent Jung calls you to attention. “Aight, everyone. As you know, Mr. Bang will be going to the city tomorrow morning for a business meeting– the organization is providing its own security forces, so your services are unnecessary until Monday at 6am sharp. Understood?” “Yes sir!”

Tomorrow morning? Wait, that means you might have a chance to strike in the few hours before he leaves. You know the best time to strike any target is during a period of transition. While everyone is hurried, packing and organizing, Hitman will have his guard down. 

Once you’re changed, you head out the door. Jungkook catches your eye and waves, and you feel your face heat up as you offer a cheeky salute in response. It’s not you’re fault, that toothy grin is so contagious.

Once you’re safely holed up at your base–

“AD, you there?”

“Sure am. What’s up?”

You walk calmly around the safehouse, marking things off your mental checklist. “I’m gonna go for it tonight.”

“Damn, that was fast. What’s going on?”

“We know the location of cameras and the guards’ schedules. Just cause I haven’t met the guy in person doesn’t make this too fast.” Ammo, rifle, scope, suppressor, stand– check. “He’s going on a business trip in the morning, and once he steps out of the house, that’s gonna be my best bet. Besides, now that I’m sure there’s someone else after Hitman, I gotta get to him first.”

“Sounds great. Where do I come in?”

“Can you get me satellite images of my cover options within, say, a kilometer of his door? I tried checking, but his house doesn’t show up on Google Maps. I need a roof where I won’t be interrupted.” You had hoped to pull the infiltrate-eliminate play, but if you have a chance to snipe the Hitman, you’re gonna take it.

“Classic. Yeah, I can do that. I’ll get his schedule too, lemme send that to you.” You hear AD typing quickly on the line. “There’s a car scheduled to pick up Hitman and Agent Jung at 5:30 in the morning.”

You glance at the clock. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon, which means you’ve got sixteen hours to plan your highest-paid killshot of the year. 

Your security uniform shines like a beacon, draped over your chair. It’s a shame you won’t be able to make your lunch appointment with Jungkook tomorrow. You’ve got to be out of the city before Hitman’s body is even cold. Maybe in another life, you could have spent more than a week with the man whose company you find yourself enjoying increasingly each day. 

“AD, let’s take a bit of a break after this one, okay?”

AD chuckles. “With a 45k job, you can take as long a break as you want. Good luck, y/n.”

You spend the afternoon organizing the hit, with AD’s help.

“Jeez, his security on this trip is a fucking brick wall,” AD groans in frustration. “Y/n, if you don’t make the shot when he’s leaving, you’re not gonna have another chance.”

“Mm.” You’re distracted, measuring the angles from a printout of your rooftop perch. AD secured you entrance to a quiet office building three blocks from Hitman’s estate. You’ll have to set up at the southernmost corner of the roof to have the biggest advantage. You’ll go there around midnight– you don’t want to give Hitman a chance to leave early.

Hours pass, and the clock ticks closer to midnight. “I’m headed out,” you say, hoisting your equipment over your shoulder.

“Cool. I’ve got one of my men on the door to the building– give him the password, and keep your head down. Take the stairs, the elevator is monitored. There’s a fire escape on the roof if you need to get down fast. Good luck, y/n.” 

“Thanks.”

You arrive to the building with little trouble, your high-powered rifle concealed in pieces within a worn-out backpack. 

You knock three times on the back door to the building, and immediately a man opens the door. “What do you want?” he growls. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Sorry, I’m lost,” you reply calmly. “I’m looking for the post office.”

The man gives you a quick once-over, eyeing your backpack appreciatively. “You can send letters from here,” he says, stepping back to let you in. You nod, pulling your hood lower over your eyes as you make for the stairwell.

Ten stories later, your legs are burning and your shoulders ache from the weight of your weaponry. But at least you’re on the roof, with a perfect view of Hitman’s brilliant estate. 

“AD, come in.”

Your earpiece crackles to life. “Wassup?”

“I’m in position,” you reply as you unload your backpack and begin to fit your rifle together. “It’s gonna be quiet for a couple hours. Take a nap, man, you’ve earned it.”

At your words, you hear AD yawn. “Good idea. Talk to you later.”

The line goes dead as you finish setting up the rifle stand, careful to aim it so your bullet will strike Hitman as he leaves the house. 

Deep breaths. It’s just another kill, just another target, and more money than you used to make in a year. 

You settle in by your rifle for the five-hour wait. The cold bites deep into your bones– but at least it keeps you from dozing off. 

Around three in the morning, you’re half present, half floating off into a world of your own creation, when a blur of motion darts across your line of sight. What? What? Something’s going on, what–

You press your eye to the gun’s scope, magnifying your vision. A figure creeping down the block, dressed in all black, their movements strong and familiar– the acrobat is back.

“AD?”

Silence on the line. He must still be asleep. You’ve got a couple hours before Hitman leaves, enough time to get this guy and return to the roof. 

Grabbing your handgun and a dagger, you race for the fire escape, skipping steps, practically flying down the stairs. He’s got a headstart on you, but he’s injured. If your earlier bullet hit true– and it always does– too much exertion will reopen his wound. You’re a hyena, stalking your prey, wearing him down until there’s little work left for you to do. 

Your target slows to a walk, still a block ahead of you as you reach the sidewalk, closing in on Hitman’s estate. Finally reaching the ground, and with your heart hammering in your chest, you duck behind a parked car and peek out. Has he seen you? You don’t have a mask, just your hoodie. He’s wearing a crude ski mask– covered except for his eyes and mouth. How unprofessional.

He continues walking, his body language relaxed. How can he be relaxed right now? You move from behind the car to the middle of the sidewalk, hiding in plain sight. You jam your hands in your pockets, letting your hair fall in front of your face as adopt a drunken stumble. If you can’t run, hide. You sense your target turn around and spare you a glance. All he’ll see, though, is intoxicated, unthreatening idiot. Your opponent ignores you and keeps walking, his left hand going up to clutch at his side. Bingo. 

You continue trailing him, hanging back just far enough to not arouse his suspicion. Once he gets to Hitman’s estate, and to that electrified fence that he can somehow scale, you’re going to lose him. 

You need another advantage. 

You secret the knife from the sheath on your hip, subtly increasing your pace until you’re about twenty feet away from your target– about the farthest you’ll trust yourself to throw a knife accurately. He’s close, so close…

You whip your arm around and send the knife sailing. It flies through the air, headed right for his midsection, when suddenly… what?

Your target’s arm reaches out almost in slow motion and grabs your dagger by the handle, stopping its flight mere inches from his flesh.

“I haven’t forgotten your other present,” he growls as you close in on him, his voice inhuman. “Leave now. You’re not going to win this fight.”

This bitch…

In your mind, you hear every girlie, every sweetheart, every condescending chuckle. You see the disrespect in a thousand eyes, the endless doors closed in your face. And you snap.

Your body seems to melt into the shadows— you’re made of fire, of darkness. Energy courses through your veins, and you suppress the urge to laugh. It’s been a while since you’ve gone all-out. If you can’t hide, fight.

The acrobat cocks his head. “You’re not running?”

In lieu of a response, you make a show of withdrawing your handgun. On seeing the weapon, the acrobat flashes his own gun, leveling the barrel at you.

What he doesn’t know, you think, running your other hand over the military-grade smoke grenade in your pocket, might hurt him.

The acrobat’s arm twitches, the kind of twitch that’s been burned into your memory. You see the path of the bullet before he pulls the trigger; you drop to the floor, his bullet missing your head by inches. In the same movement, you pull the pin on the grenade and launch it at him. With a loud hiss, thick plumes of smoke begin to pour from the capsule. You hear the acrobat curse. His mask proves to be his downfall: he’s blinded and coughing, although his covered nose means he can still breathe. You don’t have a mask with you, but you do have excellent hearing— and so you drop your gun and charge towards him, your eyes shut tight. 

Time seems to slow down. The smoke burns your lungs even though you’re holding your breath, but all you can focus on is your opponent’s heavy footsteps, unsteady and pained. His earlier wound must still be bothering him, which is probably why he’s still on the ground. With his skill set, you’d have scaled the fence and been gone by now. 

Wait. The fence. No matter his skills, the guy isn’t immune to electricity. And you’re right in front of Hitman’s estate.

Your lungs protest— you’ve been holding your breath too long. You need to end this quickly, while you still have the advantage of your smoke cover. Your ears pick up a tiny shift in weight in front of you— he’s a smart assassin, he managed to stop coughing. But it’s not enough to save him, not when you’re in your element. You circle around silently until he’s in between you and the fence.

“Come on, man,” your opponent speaks suddenly, his voice distorted. A voice mod? “We can spar later, I got shit to do.”

Fucking asshole. You barrel forward, lowering your shoulder and catching him right in the gut. You hear a metallic skitter; your attack forced him to drop his gun. He’s unarmed. 

“Oof!” The acrobat grunts in pain, stumbling backwards even as his gloved hands snake forward to wrap around your throat. Shit. He starts squeezing, and you gasp for air, your tortured lungs protesting further abuse. He’s almost right up against the fence– you just need him to take one...more...step. You can hear his labored breathing right in front of you. He must still be blinded, which means you can take him by surprise. Perfect. 

You plant your hands on his shoulders and, instead of pushing him away like he surely expects, you pull him close and press your lips to his, kissing him with all the desperation of a girl with her life on the line. The move is a double-edged sword: if you can’t distract your target sufficiently, you’re close enough to be KO’d. But if you do your job well… it’s practically a given win. Your opponent’s grip on your throat loosens and you feel him relax into the kiss– and return it with fervor, biting lightly on your lower lip. Well, he’s certainly distracted. You use the opportunity to shove him backwards, and with his guard down, he takes that last crucial step to steady himself.

ZZZAP!

You wince at the crackle of electricity. It’s not enough to kill, but that’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker. He collapses without another sound, just as the smoke begins to dissipate.

“Did you hear that?” You hear a shout from inside the estate.

“Someone set off the fence!”

“Well, go check!”

Oh, Christ. You can’t leave your opponent there; his injuries will prove that someone else was with him, they’ll check the footage before AD can edit it. You bend down– grabbing your discarded gun while you’re at it– and pick your opponent up in a fireman’s carry, lugging the dead weight several buildings down and into a back alley. By the time you get there and set him down, you can hear him groan. He’ll be coming to soon. You touch your earpiece to contact AD.

“AD? You awake?” You rasp, your throat still hurting.

AD sounds groggy. “Good morning to you too. Yeah, I’m here.”

“I caught our acrobat.”

“No shit! Is he dead?”

You peer at the groaning, half-conscious figure. “Almost.”

“You’ve got the go-ahead to neutralize him. I’d recommend doing it fast, though.”

“Yeah, I will.” You check the clock: 3:44. This guy’s taken up way too much of your time. Glancing down at your fallen opponent, you see his hand begin to twitch. Let’s see what kind of amateur assassin almost took my kill. You sit on your heels in front of him and reach out, pulling off the ski mask with ease.

“Oh…shit.”

“Y/n?”

“Uh…” sitting in front of you, a trail of scarlet blood dripping down his chin, is Jeon Jungkook. “AD, I’ll call you back.”

“Wait, what’s going-” Click.

You rub your eyes miserably, wishing that the smoke was still blinding you. Jeon Jungkook. Agent Jeon. The dork from work. An assassin?

Then that means… you tug up his shirt, exposing sculpted abs that you wish you didn’t notice along with thick bandages wrapped around his midsection. You can see dark blood seeping through on Jungkook’s left side– where you’d shot him last week, where he said he’d fallen asleep on a dog toy. And like an idiot, like a sentimental amateur, you believed him. You believed that he actually liked you, actually cared. But he’s a liar, a monster like you. The realization that it was all an act hurts more than your bruised throat ever could.

“Ngh…” your heart seems to drop into your stomach. The voice mod must’ve been in his mask, because now you can recognize Jungkook’s groan as the one you’d heard so often during dull shifts. “Hey… hands off the goods.” He swipes weakly at your arm and you pull away, letting his shirt fall back down over the wound that you caused.

Half of you wants to laugh, and the other half wants to… what, cry? Why did it have to be him? 

You pull back your hood and tuck your hair behind your ear. “You’re such a fucking idiot, you know that?”

At last, Jungkook’s eyes snap open and he stares straight at you, his face betraying a mix of horror and fury. “Soo-Jin?”

He’s going to die anyways. You might as well tell him the truth. “Actually, my name is y/n.”

“No.” Jungkook gapes, seemingly at a loss for words. “No. Dammit. Fuck! Fucking anyone but you!” He tries to get up, but he doesn’t get very far before he falls back and slumps over, his expression heartbreaking. For once, you can do nothing but watch him. “I knew it was one of the guards,” Jungkook continues, clutching at his wound. “Namjoon has good aim. Jimin, he’s fast. I didn’t want to hurt you, Soo-Jin–” his voice breaks. “Or, I guess, y/n.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you either,” you admit, the gun in your hip holster feeling heavier by the minute. “But I had to do my job.”

“Wait a second…” Jungkook hesitates. “Y/n? As in y/n l/n, the master assassin? Sixty-two confirmed kills? You’re that y/n?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

Jungkook nods as much as his weakened state will allow. “Everyone in the business has. Your aim is unmatched. They say the only time y/n misses a killshot is when she’s trying to miss– oh.” Jungkook smiles sadly. “I’m just postponing the inevitable, huh?

You nod, smoothly withdrawing your gun and pointing it at his head. Sure, midsection is more of a surefire hit, but a headshot will end it quickly– and for the first time in a long, long time, you realize that you care about his suffering. 

Jungkook looks up at you, his eyes revealing a softness you can’t understand.

“Y-you’re not scared?” You ask. Why isn’t he trying to escape? If you can’t win, run. It’s the assassin’s motto. But… he’s not running?

Jungkook shrugs, groaning in pain. “I lost. You won. We had the same target, so killing me is your right. Besides, if it had to be anyone…” Jungkook winks. “Might as well be you. Even if you are a dirty liar.”

You draw yourself up, affronted. “Excuse me?”

He laughs and then coughs. “Miss I don’t kiss my victims went and pulled that? Sure, Jan.”

You suppress a giggle. “You’re postponing again. I have to get back to Hitman.”

“Right, sorr-” BANG!

You pull the trigger, the gun so familiar in your hand that it’s like an extension of yourself. And your aim, as always, is perfect.

Jungkook is shaking. He looks up at the black mark where the bullet struck the wall, not half an inch above his head. “Y-y-you missed.”

“I’m y/n l/n,” you reply, holstering your gun. “I never miss.”

“Wait, so you saved–”

“Someone’s gotta fix this bandage, shit,” you interrupt, kneeling down and examining his wound, which has continued slowly bleeding through its dressings. “Goddamn amateurs, I swear, ruining the trade–”

Suddenly, Jungkook reaches out and cups your cheek.

“W-what are you doing?” You squeak, embarrassed. He’s so close you can feel his body heat, so close it feels like you’re the one who’s disarmed.

“Making sure you won't regret sparing me,” Jungkook mutters in response before capturing your lips with his own. You didn’t notice the first time, but he tastes like cherries. 

You know you should pull away, a good assassin never lets down her guard, but– “Fuck you,” you mumble against his lips, linking your hands behind his neck. Heat courses through your body as you kiss him back. Maybe, for once... you can just relax. You feel a bit of something hard pass from his mouth to yours. A hard candy? Who cares, you’re kissing him and kissing him and you really like kissing him, fuck.

Eventually Jungkook pulls away, a bright smile on his face. “Look at me, the amateur that tamed the expert.”

“You didn’t tame shit,” you reply, getting up. For a second your vision swims before you. Damned iron deficiency. Checking the time, you start. “I gotta get going.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jungkook responds, standing up. What? His injuries should have kept him down.

“I’ve still got a target to off, hon.” You salute him, your head aching. You wish you could spend more time with him, but it’s not your path. You’ve got a job to do.

“I said,” Jungkook replies, walking forward. “You’re not going anywhere.” His gait isn’t casual anymore, it’s threatening, and all your instincts are screaming danger.

“Or what? Do the math. I’m armed, you’re not. You can’t do anything.”

Jungkook smiles coldly. His eyes– they’re dark, emotionless. The kind of eyes you see in the mirror everyday. The eyes of a killer. “Oh, but I can. And I did.”

“W-what?” Your heart feels weak, and your breathing becomes labored. Your chest is unnaturally tight. “What did you do to me?”

“All the best spies kept cyanide pills in their mouths,” Jungkook replies with a shrug as you fall to your knees, too dizzy to stand. The world is spinning, tilted, and your chest feels like it’s burning. Jungkook leans down, his tone malicious. “And I’m one of the best. After all, I killed y/n l/n, didn’t I?”

Cyanide. Poison. How can you fight against poison?

Jungkook is still talking. “If you can’t win, run, right? Guess what, girlie? Guess why I didn’t run?”

You can’t breathe, it feels like you’re drowning, you lost.

“I didn’t run because I could win. And I’ll win again, once Hitman is out of the picture. You’re not the only one with money on the line. Though I have to say, it’s really a shame.” He flicks your forehead, but you can barely feel anything anymore. “You were cute. Oh well, any last words?”

This is it. The end of y/n l/n, master assassin. Your eyes flutter closed– he won. “Fuck you.”

[graciebirdie]

*slides onto your dash like i didn’t completely disappear for a week* good evening. please enjoy the first chapter of another fic in my personal series titled “how many different ways can i rewrite teen wolf seasons 1/2/3?“ (hint: it’s a lot)

***

"Yes or no?" Peter asked, staring Stiles down intently, leaning closer and closer to Stiles' wrist.

Peter's little speech about how Stiles could be just like Scott, or even better than Scott just showed Stiles that as smart as Peter seems to think he was Peter also doesn't understand Stiles at all.

Stiles has never wanted to be like Scott. Scott might be Stiles' best friend but Stiles wasn't blind. Most of the time the only thing Scott has going for him was his perpetually confused face and innocent crooked smile.

Stiles knew that since Scott had been bitten all of his high school outcast dreams had come true but his odds of dying before he turned eighteen had risen exponentially.

For Stiles, an entire new world had opened up. Suddenly humans weren't the scariest things out there. There were literal monsters. And Stiles was woefully underprepared for it. He needed to know everything about everything but he knew that he needed a foot in the door first.

No self respecting creature of the night would go around telling a rando human all their secrets but… they might be more willing to tell another creature.

So Stiles carefully shrugged so as not to pull his hand away and said "Sure, why not?"

Peter blinked at him, looking startled. For a long moment nothing happened and Stiles started to think Peter had only been fucking with him when suddenly Peter grinned at him, showing off his huge mouthful of fangs.

"Why not indeed." he slurred and ripped the cuff of Stiles' shirt open to bite into Stiles' skin.

It stung but Peter pulled away after barely a moment, not even a hint of blood on his mouth. He let go of Stiles with a pleased looking smirk.

Stiles pulled his arm back to inspect his wrist. There were tiny little pinpricks of blood in crescent shapes on both sides of his wrist. It was like Peter had barely applied any pressure at all. After the horror story Stiles had heard from Scott about what his bite had looked like the differences were stark.

Stiles glanced up at Peter and found him staring very intently at him. It was actually a little creepy. "I have to go check up on Lydia." Stiles said wanting to get away from Peter as quickly as possible as the full extent of his decision hit him.

Peter smirked at him. "You do that." he said it like he thought Stiles was pulling a Scott or something.

Stiles refused to actually run away and give Peter the satisfaction of having scared Stiles.

Once he was safely inside the hospital he allowed himself a moment to panic that Peter might be able to pull that alpha mind trick bullshit he'd tried on Scott before he suddenly remembered that Scott was a goddamn idiot sometimes and he hadn't listened when Stiles tried to explain werewolves to him and he'd had no idea that Peter was messing with his head. Stiles hoped his foreknowledge would help him where it didn't help Scott.

Well, if Peter did try to mess with Stiles he would... figure something out.

***

Stiles made Jackson drive his own car to the Hale house because it didn't actually matter if Jackson showed but if he did Stiles didn't want to have to drive him back to his car or have to rely on him to get out of the woods. Jackson was a big enough asshole that if he got the chance he'd leave Stiles on his own.

Stiles had debated making some more molotov cocktails but he'd quickly dismissed the idea. Peter might be a murderer but he'd already been set on fire once and Stiles was positive that that was most of the reason he was so crazy. So Stiles wasn't going to be setting Peter on fire again anytime soon. Or possibly ever.

Stiles watched Peter rip Kate Argent's throat out. After her pathetic attempt at an apology he didn't really feel all that bad about it. He was probably going to freak out about it later but in the moment all he really cared about was that a mass murderer was dead.

Peter didn't seem very satisfied with the last part of his revenge but Stiles wasn't surprised. Everyone who had been responsible for the fire was dead but Peter's family didn't suddenly come back to life and now Peter was going to have to think about what else he could do with his life.

He started to advance on Allison and Stiles knew he should step in and do...something. Maybe try to appeal to Peter's human side by pointing out when the fire happened Allison had been like ten and if she had been involved she hadn't known what she was doing. Not that Stiles thought she was involved because he was one hundred percent sure she hadn't been. But Peter wasn't done with being angry yet and Stiles hadn't turned into a werewolf in the last two hours so he just let Chris Argent shot Peter with enough bullets to get him to his knees.

He didn't try to stop Derek when he stepped up to finish Peter off. Peter had sort of brought that onto himself by killing Derek's sister.

Stiles stayed long enough to watch Peter fall down dead and then he climbed back into his jeep and drove home.

~~~

Peter had asked Stiles if he wanted the bite on a whim. He would have left him there in the parking garage but Stiles had to go and poke at him and Peter hadn't been able to resist.

He'd thought rubbing how much Scott's life had changed with the bite in Stiles' face would make him back down, really Peter just wanted to see how Stiles would react to that.

Stiles had just seemed calculating.

Weighing the pros and cons in his head before he'd agreed.

Peter had paused for a moment to see if Stiles would suddenly change his mind but Stiles had just stared him down.

So Peter had bitten him on the wrist.

No doubt if Peter had bitten him in the traditional place on the side Stiles would have run but he'd made his choice and having a third tie to the mortal plane was better than two.

Peter had bitten him quickly but carefully. the other two times he'd bitten someone had been bloody and messy but neither of them had agreed to the bite. Stiles had so he deserved a bit more care.

Only moment's after Peter had let Stiles go he was obviously second guessing himself so Peter let him go. Stiles had already told him where Derek was, which would lead him to Kate and really that had been all that he wanted.

If the night ended as badly as he thought it would Stiles would have some time to come to terms with his choices and hopefully be ready to face Peter again.

And if the night went well than Peter would let him have some time to deal with it. He'd handled Scott so well that Peter had no doubt he'd be able to handle himself too.

~~~

The night had gone exactly as badly as Peter had been expecting.

The only thing that surprised him was Stiles' lack of reaction.

He had just watched.

Obviously he was going to let Peter dig his own grave. But his complete lack of reaction to anyone else there was facitinating.

Not that Peter had much time to think about it.

***

A week after Peter had bitten him and Stiles was still human. The little pinpricks had healed and turned into teeny tiny white scars most people won't notice.

Stiles thought that they'd scared over too fast for something not to have happened but he had no idea what. Peter had only said that if the bite didn't turn him it would kill him and Stiles felt totally fine.

Better than fine really. He felt pretty great for having experienced a lot of horrible shit and having his entire world view up ended.

But he was pretty sure he didn't feel werewolf great. He didn't suddenly have enhanced senses or strength. He didn't feel the urge to run in the woods naked and howl at the full moon.

He suspected he was going to have to ask Derek for help. Not that he wanted to. If Stiles was going to turn into a werewolf and he was just being a late bloomer than Derek would probably try to convince him to join his pack and Stiles wasn't all that interested.

If Scott could handle himself without an alpha while Peter activly tried to fuck him up than Stiles was pretty sure he could handle himself without an alpha too.

He decided to try a little experiment first. At school, before first period started he leaned close to Scott and asked "Yo, do I smell different to you?"

Scott looked at him like he was crazy. "No?" he said hesitantly.

Stiles nodded seriously. "Cool. Just checking I didn't get bitten by a were-mosquito in my sleep or something."

Scott rolled his eyes and turn away from him in exasperation.

Stiles fought back a sigh. Looked like he would have to go find Derek after all.

***

Derek was a weirdo that either didn't have a job, savings, or any valid ID because he was living in an abandoned train station.

"So how many homeless people did you have to kick out to get these digs?" Stiles asked with a sneer.

Derek sneered right back. "What the hell do you want? Scott already told me I wasn't his alpha so I don't have to deal with you or him."

Great, that was definitely not something Stiles wanted to deal with. Sure, he didn't want Derek to be his alpha but he didn't want to cut ties with him completely.

"I'm having a little problem and I was hoping you could give me a bit of advice." That should work. If Derek didn't think Stiles needed him to actually do anything he'd probably help.

"I have enough problems of my own, I don't have time to deal with yours too." Derek growled.

This was ridiculous and Stiles was surrounded by incompetence. "You really think I'd come to you with a normal problem?"

Derek didn't even blink, just continued to glare at him, not seeming to notice something off about Stiles at all.

Stiles threw his hands up in exasperation. "Fine! Fuck you too than!"

Derek was obviously not going to be any help. Stiles was going to have to go find someone actually smart to help him. And it would help if that someone also happened to have the same problem that Stiles was having.

***

On Lydia's first day back at school after being released from the hospital she and Allison sat apart from the rest of the student body and Stiles jumped at the opportunity.

Allison and Lydia were sitting across from each other at a table in the back of the cafeteria so Stiles sat down next to Allison so that Lydia didn't feel like he was trying to be creepy or crowd her.

She and Allison both stared at him like he was insane but he just smiled.

He knew Lydia liked to play her mind games but he decided he didn't want her to think he was messing with her so he just jumped right in. "So Lydia, you know how you got attacked on the lacrosse field? Will I saw what happened and I was wondering if you wanted to know what I saw."

She looked furious. From next to him Allison made a strangeled sound and when he glanced over she looked like she wanted to murder him.

He turned back to Lydia in time to watch her look between Stiles and Allison and for her expression to become thoughtful. And deadly. "Okay Stiles, you tell me your version of events."

"A werewolf attacked and bit you."

Lydia's smile instantly fell and she sat back in her chair to look at Stiles in disgust.

"Stiles what the fuck!" Allison hissed and Stiles turned to glare at her.

"She has a right to know what happened, don't you think?" he challenged Allison.

"Leave her alone!" Allison growled, obviously furious at him.

He pointedly turned back to Lydia to look at her seriously. "Lydia, if you want proof Scott can show you. He's a werewolf, but not the one who bit you." he added hastily.

Lydia was looking a little blank. "Scott... McCall... a.... werewolf?"

"No!" Allison yelled. She looked around quickly and lowered her voice. "No, Stiles is just being an asshole."

Lydia started to frown at Allison. "The movie rental place...." she said slowly.

Stiles winced and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ah, yeah I deleted the video of it off your phone, sorry."

Lydia instantly whipped her phone out of her purse and started to scroll through it.

Stiles and Allison both watched her in confusion.

"Holy shit." Lydia whispered. "I thought I'd had a bad trip."

Allison shot up and tried to pull Lydia's phone out of her hand but Lydia was faster than her. "What the hell are you doing Allison?"

Allison looked a little panicked. "Lydia that's not-"

Lydia went completely still. "Scott McCall is your boyfriend, Allison."

Allison looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "We broke up..." she said faintly.

Lydia turned to look at Stiles. "You said Scott could prove it?"

Stiles swallowed. This was going very well. He hoped Scott would actually help him. He quickly pulled out his phone to check his copy of Scott's work schedule. He grinned and said "Yep! He's closing the vet clinic tonight, if you come by around six I can let you in."

Allison made a strangled sound but Lydia and Stiles both ignored her.

Lydia nodded decisively. "Okay, I'll be there." she paused and looked at Allison. "Sit down Allison. Stiles you can leave now."

Stiles didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed his stuff and booked it for where Scott was staring at Allison dejectedly.

He flopped down next to Scott and said "Woah boy I do not want to be there for that dressing down. I think Lydia can murder people with just her eyes."

Scott frowned at him in confusion. "What did you guys talk about?"

Stiles shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh you know, just about what happened to Lydia and how she's coming over to the clinic tonight so you can prove werewolves are real. The usual."

Scott opened and closed his mouth several times before he squeaked out a strangled "What?"

Stiles grinned at him threateningly. "And if you don't do it I'm damn sure not going to help you with whatever it is you're planning on doing to win Allison back from her crazy dad."

Scott tried to pull out the sad puppy dog eyes but Stiles ignored him. He'd been immune to those for years.

***

"I don't get why you want to tell Lydia." Scott whined for the third time. Stiles was tired of it.

"I don't get why you don't want to tell her." he shot back in annoyance.

"She's not a werewolf so she shouldn't have to deal with them." Scott said with a stubborn look on his face.

Stiles stared at him in bafflement. "What part of her knowing what happened to her would mean she'll have to deal with werewolves now? Maybe she'll find out and want absolutely nothing to do with werewolves." Stiles said, even though he wanted the exact opposite of that to happen.

Scott didn't look convinced but before he could protest again his head did the tilt thing it did when he was listening for something. His expression instantly got sappy and he said "Allison's here."

Stiles rolled his eyes but let Scott go open the front door for Allison and Lydia.

Lydia swaned in looking beautiful and furious. She eyed him and glanced over her shoulder into the lobby, probably saw Scott and Allison making out, and stepped right up into Stiles' space.

In a whisper she said "Allison seems to think that the only reason you told me is because you want to get into my pants but I have a feeling you want something else."

Stiles fought back a swoon. In an equally quiet whisper he said "It was entirely selfish on my part to tell you. But we'll have to talk about it somewhere else."

Lydia leaned back with a satisfied look on her face and Stiles was realized to see he was still handing her the right way.

In a normal volume of voice he asked "So how'd you get that video back?"

Lydia sneered at him as if he was an idiot and rolled her eyes. "Who doesn't have their phones set to automatically back up to the cloud?"

Stiles actually felt a little impressed that he hadn't thought to delete any copies but he could admit to himself that he had been a little distracted at the time. "My mistake." he said trying to look chagringed but probably failing.

Lydia turned to look back out into the lobby and yelled "If either of you two are missing clothing when I come out there I'm going to murder you both and then Stiles for good mesure."

Stiles grimaced at the thought. He fought back a laugh when he heard something crash and Scott and Allison both swearing.

Lydia smirked at him and he didn't even try to stop himself from smirking back.

***

A few days after they'd given Lydia a crash course on the werewolf bullshit she cornered Stiles at his jeep after school.

"Okay I've processed some stuff so we can talk about your ulterior motives now." She said, pointedly tapping her fingers against the passenger door, no doubt waiting for Stiles to unlock it and let her in.

Stiles grinned at her and eagerly unlocked the door. She hopped in and primmly smoothed her skirt out.

"So." he said as he started up the jeep. "You pick where you want to talk."

She sent him a look that said she knew exactly what he was doing but he pointedly ignored her.

She hummed in thought for a moment before she said "If your dad's not home we can go to your house."

Stiles was surprised but he wasn't about question her choices when he didn't have a problem with going to his house.

"Coffee first?" he asked, since he figured she deserved something for even being willing to listen to him.

She smiled. "Of course."

***

They sprawled out on the couch in the front room with coffee and tacos because Lydia had been hungry and Stiles never said no to tacos.

She waved her hand at him and said, with her mouthful because apparently Stiles didn't deserve her good manors "Spit out what it is you want to ask me already. The suspense is killing me."

Stiles snorted but pulled down his shirt sleeve to show her the little tiny scars on his wrist.

She leaned forward to look, eyes narrowing in thought before they widened in surprise.

"Did he-?" she pointed excitedly at his wrist.

"Yep." Stiles said with a nod.

"But you're not-?" she curled her fingers to look like claws.

"Nope."

"Huh." she said, leaning back against the couch and eating more of her taco thoughtfully.

Stiles left her to it and ate his own food. This was why he'd told her after all.

After a few minutes she asked "Have you talked to Derek?"

Stiles grimaced. "I tried. He kicked me out before I could tell him the whole story because since Scott doesn't want him as his alpha that means Derek's not going to help me."

Lydia looked furious. "That's bullshit."

"Sure is." Stiles said in agreement.

She turned to look at him curiously. "So how'd it happen?"

Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well that's the reason I haven't talked to Scott about it yet."

Lydia looked smug again. "Did you ask for it?"

"No." he paused and watched her pout at having been wrong. "But he offered and I said yes."

Her eyebrows shot up. "He... offered?"

Stiles sighed and told her the unedited story of what happened between him and Peter.

At the end she just said "Huh." again.

"So we're in the same boat." he said.

She frowned but nodded slowly. "Not really. But now I get why you wanted to talk to me."

Stiles was relieved she understood and he agreed that their situations were different.

"Let's compare notes." she finally said.

So they did and afterwords Stiles felt better than he had since he'd agreed to let Peter bite him.

***

The next day at lunch Stiles was outside on the bleachers hiding from Scott because he wanted Stiles to play messenger instead of just getting a pay by the minute burner phone like Stiles had suggested.

Lydia appeared out of nowhere and sat down next to him. "Hiding from Scott?" she asked, the look on her face half amused half fake sympathetic.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" he asked morrosly.

"Allison tried to rope me into passing notes between her and Scott. So I'm hiding from her." she said primly.

"I told him to just get a burner phone."

Lydia cocked her head in thought for a moment before she pulled her phone out and texted someone, hopefully Allison. She's probably listen to reason.

Very casually Lydia said "So have noticed that Isaac Lahey has been acting super weird?"

"Who?" Stiles asked, frowning as he tried to think of anyone that would being acting strange enough for Lydia to not only notice but also bring it up to Stiles.

"He's second string on the lacrosse team." she sent him a judgement look. "You sit next to him at most games."

"Oh." Stiles said shamidly. “That Isaac Lahey."

Lydia rolled her eyes at him. "He's been acting a lot like Scott did after he got bitten. Up to and including getting good at lacrosse overnight and hitting on me."

Stiles frowned. "Why didn't I notice?" he asked, more to himself than Lydia.

She rolled her eyes at him. "When was the last time you went to practice?"

Stiles frowned harder in thought. There hadn't been any practice during spring break but he'd somehow completely missed the practices he should have been to on Monday and Wednesday.

He had no idea how he'd forgotten about them or why no one had called him on it. Coatch and Scott would murder him if he missed practice.

Lydia saw the look on his face and very casually said "I guess you haven't noticed the way you've been kind of mopey lately."

He blinked at her. "Mopey?"

She nodded. "I know you're worried about what's going to happen with our bites but no one else does so to them you just don't look very good."

He made a mental note to tell Coach next time he saw him that he'd been feeling sick and stressed out and that was why he'd missed practice.

Or, maybe, if he did suddenly turn into a werewolf he should just quit the lacrosse team. If Scott and maybe Isaac were on the team that was more than enough werewolves to draw attention to themselves. Stiles didn't want any hunters that might be smart enough to look at small town sport news to get any ideas about him.

Lydia smirked at him. "I can see the wheels turning."

Stiles smirked right back at her. "You know full well how much of an advantage it is to be underestimated. If I do end up being a werewolf than I don't want to be showing that off to the whole school and anyone else that might be watching."

She nodded thoughtfully.

Deciding to change the subject to something a little more pressing he asked "You wanna go on a field trip with me to ask Derek if he's running around turning teenagers into werewolves?"

Lydia grinned at him. "I would absolutely love to ask him why the hell he hadn't come to check up on me."

Stiles grinned right back. Lydia was going destroy Derek and it was going to be beautiful.

***

Stiles and Lydia walked right into Derek's train car of depression and caught him in the middle of giving what looked like a Werewolf 101 class to Isaac and a girl and a guy Stiles was sure they went to school with.

Derek look furious and stalked over to Stiles and Lydia. "What the hell are you two doing here?" he snarled.

Stiles smiled sweetly at him. "We wanted to know if you were running around biting teenagers but I think this answers that question."

Isaac and the other two would be or maybe already werewolves frowned at them in confusion while Derek narrowed his eyes. "It's not any of your concern or hers." he leaned closer to Stiles to hiss "What the hell is she even doing here?"

Lydia leaned closer to Derek and made one of her patented airhead confused looks. "Geeze I have no idea why I should be here." she cocked her head to the side and put her finger to her chin thoughtfully. "I mean it's not as though I was bitten by a werewolf or anything."

Derek had the decency to blanch at the reminder. He pulled himself up and crossed his arms over his chest. "I checked on you in the hospital, you didn't change."

It was Stiles' turn to cock his head to the side, and said thoughtfully, "What the hell does that even mean. If she didn't change what happened?"

Derek glanced back at his would be betas for a moment, looking lost. And Stiles fought back a groan at the realization Derek had no idea what he was doing.

Derek cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Well, the bite didn't kill you so that means you're immune."

Lydia and Stiles stared at him in confusion.

"That means nothing to me." Lydia said with a frustrated shake of her head.

Derek looked equally frustrated. "It means you're not going to turn."

Stiles rubbed his hand across his face. "That's it?"

Derek was starting to look dangriously close to wanting to murder them so Stiles gently put his hand on Lydia's arm and said pointly "Come on Lydia, he's obviously usesless."

She huffed but let Stiles turn her back towards the door.

"Wait, hang on." the guy that Stiles couldn't remember the name of said, coming up to them, looking between them and Derek. "You didn't tell us that other people knew about this other than Scott McCall."

Stiles stared at him in horror. "Oh my god please tell me he told you guys about hunters."

The guy, Boyd, his name was Boyd, frowned some more but nodded. "Yeah he told us about hunters but not about you two." he gestured at Lydia and asked "Did he bite you?"

Stiles groaned deeply. "You don't even know about Peter?"

The girl and Isaac came over to Boyd and gave Derek mildly distrustful looks. Obviously Derek had been counting on them not asking very many questions and he'd definitely not factored Stiles and Lydia into his plans. A real dumb move on his part.

It looked like the lure of becoming a werewolf had been strong enough for them to trust Derek enough to let him bite them, the second he proved to have mislead them they were going to jump ship.

"Who's Peter?" the girl asked, staring Derek down intently.

Derek glowered at all of them. "My uncle. He killed my sister, took the alpha power from her and bit Scott and Lydia. I killed him after he killed several people."

The three betas turned to Stiles and Lydia for confirmation.

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other and then nodded.

"Yeah, that's basically what happened." Stiles said with a shrug.

Boyd was still frowning. "You said the bite would either kill you or turn you, you didn't say anything about a third option."

Derek's jaw clenched even harder. "It's very rare, usually only one in a thousand are immune to the bite."

Stiles and Lydia glanced at each other and when Stiles turned back to look at Derek he noticed that Boyd was watching them.

Finally Boyd said "I have to think about this some more before I agree."

That was interesting.

Lydia curled her hand around Stiles' arm and said "Well, if that's all you have to say Derek than Stiles and I will be on our way."

"Do you think you could give me a ride?" Boyd asked with a very slightly pleading look on his face.

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other again. Lydia shrugged so Stiles said "Yeah sure, no problem."

Boyd smiled before he looked at Isaac and the girl. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and the girl said "Uh, would you mind-"

Stiles waved his hand. "Anyone that wants a ride can have a ride."

He and Lydia turned away from them and walked out the door but not before Stiles caught the look of pure fury on Derek's face. Stiles would not be at all surprised if he showed up at Stiles' house and murdered him.

Stiles really had to look into getting himself some wolfsbane for protection.

Lydia opened the passenger door and pulled the seat forward so that Boyd, the girl, and Isaac could all climb into the back seat.

Once they were settled she hopped in and Stiles took off.

"Ugh." he said with a sigh. "He was so useless."

Lydia hummed. "Yes, but I don't think we were useless." she glanced pointedly over her shoulder.

He heard Boyd sigh and he said "Yeah, I was just about to say yes without even really thinking about it."

Stiles laughed and even to him it sounded a little hysterical. Lydia soothingly touched his arm.

"So..." the girl said "This is already not what I was expecting."

Stiles suddenly took pity on the three of them. After having to watch what Scott had gone through he figured he was in a good enough position to help them the same way he'd helped Scott.

"Do you three want to head to my place and we can go over what happened more in-depth?" he asked, glancing in the rearview mirror to watch their faces.

All three of them looked relieved and Boyd said "That would be great, thank you."

He looked at Lydia and asked "You in or do you want me to take you home?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Buy me coffee."

Stiles took that as her agreeing to come back to his place.

***

After Stiles had explained everything that had happened over the last two months Boyd, Isaac, and Erica were all visibly calmer.

Obviously the worry they'd felt over finding out that Derek was a murderer had lessened at hearing the whole story.

They were in the middle of eating pizza when Boyd suddenly leaned closer to Stiles and asked "I feel like you left out something."

Stiles raised his eyebrows questingly. "Oh? Like what?"

"Like how Peter bit you and you didn't turn." Boyd said, staring at him intently.

Lydia snorted in amusement and said "Oh, I like this one."

Boyd actually blushed while Erica and Isaac snickered.

Stiles sighed deeply. "We're trying to keep that on the DL guys." he said weakly.

Erica raised her hands in a do no harm gesture. "Hey, your secret's safe with me."

Isaac frowned. "But why is it a secret?"

Stiles chewed on his lip and glanced at Lydia. She looked empassive so he finally said "Scott didn't ask to get bitten and he kind of hates being a werewolf."

Boyd and Erica made matching noses of disgust.

"He sure doesn't act like he hates it." Boyd said.

Stiles shrugged. "Well since I agreed to it he'll... be very mad."

It was Isaac's turn to look disgusted. "If it was your choice, what he wants doesn't matter."

Stiles looked at him in surprise and was even more surprised at the nodes of agreement that Boyd, Erica, and Lydia were giving him.

He just shrugged again and focused on his pizza.

Erica and Issac's heads suddenly snapped up and the front door opened. His dad walked in and then instantly went still at the sight of five teenagers in his living room.

"Uh, what's going on?" he asked hesitantly.

"Uh..." Stiles said eloquently. He hadn't thought about what he would say if his dad got home before everyone left.

Luckily Lydia jumped to his rescue. "We have a history project and decided it would be best to meet here instead of the library, Sir."

His dad blinked at them for a few more seconds before he finally shrugged and came over to get a slice of pizza.

"Hey!" Stiles said half heartedly.

His dad didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of himself. "I am beat so I'm off to bed. You kids try to keep it down okay?" he took off after a course of "Of course, Sir." and only glanced back a couple of times as he left the room.

"Is that normal?" Lydia asked, eyes wide.

Stiles shrugged helplessly. "Maybe he recognized you and didn't wanna like, scare you off or something?"

Lydia rolled her eyes hard while everyone else sniggered.

"Please, if you were going to hit on me you would have done it when we were alone."

Stiles just shrugged awkwardly. He'd been so caught up with what had been going on with their bites that he'd sort of forgotten he was supposed to have a crush on her.

Erica sighed and said, "I should probably get home before my parents call the police." she winced and glanced upstairs. "That would be really awkward."

Everyone gathered up their things and threw away their trash and then piled into the jeep.

After Stiles had pulled away from Boyd's house and Lydia was the last person in the car with him he said "So, that went well."

She hummed and said "I do believe we accidently adopted two stray werewolves and a very curious human."

"Uh, we?" Stiles asked, sounding strangled.

She turned to smirk at him. "Were you planning on handling handling two new werewolves on your own?"

Stiles shrugged helplessly. "I was going to make Scott help?"

She rolled her eyes. "If the way he's been ignoring you the last few days are anything to go by you'd probably have a hard time with that."

Stiles winced at the painful reminder that Scott was still mad at him for not listening to Allison when she said she didn't want Lydia involved.

"I guess in the end it'll depend on if they decided to trust Derek or not." he finally said.

Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked at him. "After they saw us willing to share information and having an actual house to spend time in? There's no way they're going back to that walking disaster."

"They might not have a choice." Stiles said quietly, thinking of Peter’s alpha yelling trick.

Lydia shook her head. "If Derek tries anything like that they'll never go back to him and I'm sure he knows at least that much."

Stiles sighed as he pulled up to her house. "Well, I guess we'll just see what happens."

Lydia just smiled at him and hopped out of the car with a wave.

***

At school the next day Boyd, Erica, and Isaac didn't hesitate to talk to either Stiles or Lydia and Stiles figured if they hadn't have ended up with two baby werewolves they at least ended up with three new friends.

It was a strange thought for him to have, not only because it implied that he and Lydia were friends.

Werewolves sure had turned his life on it's head.

All morning Scott sent Stiles confused puppy dog looks and at lunch when Lydia grabbed Stiles and pulled him over to the table were Boyd, Erica, and Isaac were already sitting at Scott wandered after them and awkwardly sat next to Stiles.

"So Scott." Boyd said, giving Scott an obviously fake smile. "Do you notice anything... different about Erica and Isaac here?" he asked, gesturing at the betas.

They both smiled and waved at Scott who frowned at them.

"No?" he said hesitantly.

Boyd, Lydia, and Stiles all sighed while Erica and Isaac sneered at him.

"Wow, you're a shitty werewolf." Erica said.

Scott reared back away from the table in shock. "What the hell is going on?" he whispered at Stiles.

Stiles shrugged. "Derek decided to make some betas."

Scott gasped in horror. "We have to stop him." he said.

All five of them sent Scott identical looks of bafflement.

"Uh, it's a little late for that?" Isaac said hesitantly.

Scott looked stricken. "He can't just around turning people like that! It's wrong!"

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all looked mildly furious.

"Listen buddy." Erica said, leaning towards Scott. "It's none of your business if we gave consent."

Scott that mulish look on his face and Stiles sighed deeply already knowing what was coming.

"Someone needs to stop him." Scott said.

Stiles waved his hand to stop any protests the others might have. "Okay Scottie. You go right ahead and give Derek a big old lecture on what he can and cannot do without your say so."

Scott nodded decisively while everyone else just looked annoyed.

It was one thing for them to be mad at Derek for not telling them the whole story before they agreed to be turned but it was completely different for someone else to show up and claim that it didn't matter if they had agreed to it, their choice was the wrong choice.

Stiles could sympathize considering that was the exact reason he hadn't told Scott about his own bite yet.

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all turned to look at him with matching looks of understanding on their face. He was pretty sure none of them would be telling Scott about him behind his back.

***

Later that night when his dad got him he wiggled his eyebrows at Stiles and asked "So how'd it go with Miss Lydia Martin yesterday?"

Stiles shrugged. "Nothing exciting happened."

His dad frowned. "You feeling okay kid?"

Stiles smiled at him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

His dad didn't look at all convinced.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you about something." Stiles said.

"Go for it."

"I'm going to quite lacrosse." he said in a rush.

His dad looked surprised. "Quite lacrosse? How come?"

Stiles shrugged again. "I just realized I'm never going to get off of second string and I've been thinking that there might be something better I can do with my time."

"Like what?" he asked, frown on his face. Stiles was sure he wasn't dissuading his fears at all.

Stiles floundered for a few seconds as he tried to think up something believable he could say.

Luckily his dad took pity on him and asked "Is this really about Jackson and Scott?"

Stiles grabbed the convenient excuse. He gave a deep sigh and said "It's just that it's been made very clear to me that I'm not going to making first line ever and I'd just...reather not deal with any of it at all anymore."

His dad looked a little murderous but finally said, "It's your choice kid. I'm not going to make you do a sport you don't want to do anymore." he paused and frowned before suddenly grabbing Stiles in a hug. "Just remember not to let assholes like Jackson Whittemore force you to stop doing things you like."

Stiles flailed a little in surprise at the hug but he didn't try to pull away. He patted his dad's back. "Yeah, good advice. I'll try not to."

His dad sighed and pulled back. "That's as good as I'm going to get isn't it?"

Stiles grinned at him in answer.

***

It had been a couple of days since Lydia and Stiles had accidently adopted three new friends and Scott had finally taken Stiles' advice on getting a burner phone because, according to Lydia, Allison had told him to. Stiles tried not to feel too annoyed by that.

The only other interesting thing that happened was that Allison's creepy hunter grandfather had come to town and had apparently decided to become the school principal.

Stiles was pretty baffled. He had no idea why the guy would want to be a school principal of all things.

"Allison keeps talking about how creepy bad-touch his is and it's kind of worrying me." Lydia said with a frown.

"And her dad is putting up with that? After the way he kicked Scott's ass when he thought Scott was human?" Stiles asked, shocked.

"She said he seems kind of scared of him and that's freaking her out even more."

"Did you see how her mom's his new secretary?" Boyd asked. "Honestly she scares me a whole hell of a lot more than sad crusty old grandpa Argent."

Lydia smiled at him. "That's because you're smart enough to recognize a dangerous woman and give her the respect she deserves."

Boyd looked pleased about that.

"Why don't you tell Allison to talk to her mom?" Stiles asked. "Or..." he paused and frowned at Lydia. "Or, if worse comes to worse maybe you could tell her mom that he was being creepy with you too?"

Lydia hummed and nodded. "Only as a last resort though."

"You'd need back up with that." Erica said thoughtfully. She and Lydia had a kind of strange relationship. They seemed to get along okay and didn't try to out bitch each other or anything but they also didn't seem to be friends.

Stiles just choaked it up to girls being weird and left them alone to do what they wanted. Which, according to Lydia, was the smart thing to do.

Isaac was still obviously a little uncomfortable and Stiles suspected that there was a lot going on with him beside the werewolf stuff. At least Isaac and Erica had become fast friends.

Boyd was by far the most laid back and easy going of all five of them. He seemed sort of blown over by Lydia half of the time but went along with most of what she wanted. When he didn't agree with her, he argued. It was amazing to watch tiny Lydia go tow to tow with him but it was obvious from watching them that they both really enjoyed the verbal fights they had.

Stiles wasn't sure exactly how he fit in with all of them but he felt... good around them. He felt strangely content. He had no idea why but he eventually liked all of them and liked spending time with them.

Maybe it was all that time he had spent with Scott one on one and then having that suddenly ripped away by werewolves and Allison Argent that had made him be happy with just hanging out doing basically nothing with other people.

***

Stiles was home alone when he heard Lydia knocking on the front door. He wondered when he'd gotten so used to her coming over that he knew what her knock sounded like.

He opened the door for her and took in her slightly smudged make-up, red eyes, and grocery bag in her hand.

"Come on in." he said without even asking what was going on.

She went into the kitchen and pulled out some spoons and then went back into the living room to flop out onto the couch. She pulled out a gallon of Death by Chocolate ice cream and Stiles sat down next to her on the couch.

She handed him a spoon and said "Allison’s being a shit friend and I think I'm being haunted."

Stiles  stared at her as he tried to figure out which one he should tackle first. "Uhh...?" he asked awkwardly.

She glared at him and he gulped. "How articulate of you."

Stiles laughed awkwardly. "Yeah I know. I just have no idea what I should be saying right now."

Lydia gave him a slightly watery smile. "You don't have to say anything, just listen to me."

"I can do that!" Stiles said in relief.

Stiles listened as she told him about Allison not believing her about her haunting idea while Stiles spent a lot of time wincing in sympathy.

Once she was finished talking about Allison she said "As for the being haunted thing."

Stiles sat up more fully to listen because ghosts sounded like something he might be able to help with, girl friends problems.

"I keep seeing this guy around, he said his name is Peter and I didn't really think much about it until I blacked out and woke up without remembering what happened."

"Well shit!" Stiles said in surprise. "Blacking out and not knowing what happened to Scott when Peter was trying to get him to play murder sidekick."

Lydia nodded, because of course she already knew that, Stiles had told her about it.

"I think we should give Derek one more chance to be helpful and if he isn't we'll go off and find the kitchest new-age hippy bookstore we can and buy a bunch of crystals and books on how to expel ghosts."

She chuckled. "Obviously." Relieved that they had at least a tiny plan she picked up the remote for the tv and turn on HGTV reruns while Stiles went to grab his laptop to do research.

***

Derek had rolled his eyes the second the word ghost came out of Lydia’s mouth and had thrown them out of the train car with a quip about them needing to stop wasting his time. Considering the way they’d practically stolen his betas out from under him neither Stiles or Lydia could blame him all that much for not wanting to listen to them, but they were both still annoyed by it.

***

"So we're going on a little road trip this weekend to a bunch of book shops to see if we can find some real books on the supernatural." Lydia said to the cafeteria table at large.

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all looked interested.

"Is that the royal we?" Boyd asked.

"It depends on if any of you want to go with me." Lydia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder imperiously.

"I'm going." Stiles said, unnecessarily.

"It sounds... fun, I guess." Erica said, probably trying to sound uninterested but she was smiling.

"I'd love to go." Boyd said with a grin.

Isaac looked hesitant. "When you say weekend road trip you don't mean staying at a motel or anything do you?" he asked awkwardly.

"I do not." Lydia said. "I meant we'll be going like three hours away but we'll be back before midnight. Probably."

Isaac relaxed and smiled awkwardly. "Okay, yeah I'd like to go too."

"Great!" Lydia said, even though they'd already expected them to agree. "We're taking my car because I don't trust Stiles' jeep on a good day."

"Hey!" Stiles said, putting his hand over his heart.

"That thing needs an overhaul." Erica said in agreement.

Stiles pouted at her and then stuck his tongue out when Boyd and Isaac nodded along. "You all suck."

"The only one that sucks is you Stilinski." Jackson said, walking behind him and letting his hip hit Stiles' chair hard enough to push it forward.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "If you're implying that I give blow-jobs that's really not a great insult."

Jackson sneered at him. "No I mean that you're just awful."

Stiles stared blankly at him. "I think that might be the worst attempt at giving an insult I've ever heard."

"Why don't you fuck off Jackson." Lydia hissed, annoyance on her face.

Jackson reared back from her in surprise. "Lydia..."

She pointedly turned away from him and when he realized no one at the table cared about his presence he stomped off with a growl that Stiles thought sounded a little.... not human.

He turned to frown at the others. "Derek didn't say anything about biting Jackson did he?" he asked, suddenly remembering how much Scott said Jackson wanted to be a werewolf.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac all frowned and looked at each other in worry.

"He didn't, but he also didn't tell us about Lydia so who knows." Boyd said, frowning hard at where Jackson had sat down next to Danny.

"I hope he didn't because that would not be good." Stiles said with a shutter.

Everyone else nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

***

Lydia was driving her car and everyone else had played rock paper scissors to see who got to sit in the front seat. Boyd won and grinned smugly while Lydia judged everyone over the top of her sunglasses.

Once they were all settled in, Isaac and Erica in the backseat with Stiles squished in between them, junk food passed around, and drinks squared away Boyd asked "So are we looking for something specific?"

"Ghosts." Lydia said decisively.

"Ghosts?" Isaac splottered.

"Are ghosts a thing?" Erica asked.

"If they're not I'm losing my mind and I know which one I would prefer." Lydia said flippantly.

Everyone was shocked into silence for a few seconds before Boyd finally said "Could you explain that please?"

So Lydia explained her haunting experiences again and Stiles found he was relieved to not be the only other person to know what was going on.

Stiles didn't really believe in that whole adage about two heads being better than one but he did think having someone with fresh eyes look over a problem definitely helped so he was happy to listen to the others throw ideas around.

After a few minutes he said "What I want to know is why he's haunting Lydia and not me."

Lydia looked at him in the rearview mirror. "Hey, if you want him you can have him."

Stiles huffed. "I mean, what's the difference between us that he's haunting you?"

"Huh." Boyd said thoughtfully. "That's a good question."

Lydia frowned in thought. "Hm, you're right. There must be some difference. He bite you last, you'd think you'd be the one seeing his spirit running around."

"Derek said it was rare that you didn't turn so maybe you did turn, just... not into a werewolf?" Isaac suggested tentatively.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

He shifted uncomfortably and said "Well if werewolves exist who's to say other things don't exist too?"

Stiles' and Lydia's eyes meet through the rearview mirror, shocked that that hadn't thought of that.

Erica bumped her shoulder against Stiles’ and huffed "God, I wish Derek was more helpful."

Everyone sighed deeply in agreement.

***

The first three bookstores they went to were complete busts. They didn't even have any books that couldn't be bought online.

The fourth had some old books that looked like they'd seen better days but when Stiles picked them up they made his fingertips tingle strangely.

The woman behind the counter tried to sell Lydia a rose quartz pendant in the shape of an actual rose but the woman said it had to do with good health not ghosts so Lydia refused to buy it on principle. Stiles bought the books and Erica bought the pendent because “Better to be safe than sorry!”

The fifth book store, the one that was farthest away from Beacon Hills had a backroom with a beaded curtain over the doorway and a woman at a shawl covered table inside. She had a crystal ball. She looked up and smiled when Lydia pushed the curtain back, but the smile fell off her face instantly at the sight of her. She pointed over Lydia's shoulder and screamed.

"What are you looking at?" Lydia asked her, eyes wide.

"It's a monster!" the woman yelped.

"Okay..." Lydia said slowly, hiding her excitement in case this woman was messing with them. "What does it look like?"

"Like..." the woman stuttered. "Like.... a bad horror movie werewolf."

Lydia and Stiles looked at each other, eyes wide.

"So do you see ghosts or what?" Erica asked bluntly and the woman flinched.

"What kind of question is that?" she spat.

"A...reasonable one?" Isaac said hesitantly.

She didn't look impressed. She got up and brushed past them all, out into the main part of the store. The man behind the counter didn't even look up from the book he was reading so Stiles suspected stuff like what had just happened happened regularly.

The woman disappeared into the stacks for a few seconds before coming back with a box in her hands. She held the box out to Lydia.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Lydia said flatly.

"Ooh boy Lyds." Erica said sounding gleeful. "We're about to enter next level horror movie shit."

Everyone groaned but Lydia took the Ouija board box from the woman.

"If this summons the devil I'm siccing him on you." Lydia threatened.

The woman rolled her eyes. "As if I haven't heard that before.”

***

They took the ouija board back to Stiles' house and set it up on the kitchen table. They decided to leave the overhead lights on and forgo any candles, just in case it actually worked they didn't want to offend Peter by bringing fire where he might be able to see it and get offended.

They sat down around the table with Stiles and Lydia across from each other and Boyd with a pen and paper ready to write down anything the board might spell out.

Everyone reached out to put their pointer fingers on the planchette and Stiles suddenly realized he had no idea what to say.

Everyone just sat there for a few seconds before Boyd huffed and said "Guess none of you have younger siblings. Move the pointer around a little and then Lydia should call the name of the person we want to talk to."

The planchette slid around the board for a few seconds before it stopped and Lydia took a deep breath. In a slow and steady voice she said "I'd like to talk to Peter Hale please."

For a long moment nothing happened.

And then Stiles felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a cold chill go up his spine. He felt someone's breath against his ear and Lydia's eyes went huge and her mouth dropped open in shock as she stared over his shoulder.

He heard a familiar voice loudly whisper in his ear, "I can't believe you just tried to talk to me on a Ouija board."

Stiles swallowed hard but refused to turn around. He didn't even twitch.

Lydia's eyes met his and he nodded at her. She visibly pulled herself together and said "I'd like to know why the hell you're haunting me."

Boyd, Isaac, and Erica were looking back and forth between Lydia and Stiles. They looked confused but none of them said anything, waiting for the planchette to move.

Peter chuckled in Stiles' ear and whispered "I see why you like her so much. She has moxy."

Stiles rolled his eyes and relaxed a little. He was pretty sure now that this was actually Peter and not some rando ghost and Stiles knew how to deal with Peter Hale.

"Just answer the question Peter." he said in exasperation.

He heard Peter's breath catch, and how a ghost could breathe wasn't really something Stiles wanted to think about.

"Aren't you full of surprises." the words barely any sound at all, and for a moment it felt like he was touching Stiles' wrist where the bite scar was, which just happened to be the hand Stiles had on the planchette. Stiles jumped at the phantom touch but he refused to let go, having seen one too many horror movies about what happens when you broke the summoning circle.

Peter chuckled. Stiles felt Peter’s hand slid from his wrist up to lay across Stiles’ hand and he suddenly felt his mouth moving  "I need a little help getting back on my feet and I was hoping Lydia would do something for me."

Lydia's eyes narrowed. "Why would I do anything for you? You attacked me, remember?"

"And that's why I didn't just ask." Peter, or was it Stiles, staid in exasperation.

"If I do this favor for you and you 'get back on your feet' will you be leaving me alone?" Lydia asked shrudly.

"Sure, if you help me I'll leave you alone. But I could also explain to you why the bite didn't turn you." he said, obviously hoping that Lydia would be tempted into helping him.

Lydia pretended to think about it but Stiles already knew she'd accept. And if she decided she didn't want to help him than Stiles would. He almost desperately wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Alright, fine, I'll help you." Lydia said finally, trying to sound put upon.

"You really won't have to do much. There's really one one hard part." Peter said teasingly.

***

They were all spread out on the pullout couch and watching a very dumb horror movie about ouiji boards.

Boyd and Stiles were sitting shoulder to shoulder while Lydia sat in Stiles’ lap and laid with her head on Boyds thigh. Her legs were across Erica’s stomach where she was laying next to Stiles, pressing her knees against Stiles’ other shoulder, her head pressed against Isaac’s, who was laying spread out across the bottom of the pullout, ridiculous long legs hanging off the edge.

"It was so creepy." Boyd said. "It was like someone was using you like a puppet."

"It kind of made me want to throw up." Erica said casually.

Isaac still looked a little sick and had his arms over his eyes. "I'm never touching one of those things again." he groaned.

"I just don't get it." Stiles said absently. "Why could Lydia and I hear him but no one else could..."

"Maybe because he bit both of you but not any of us." Boyd suggested.

"That has to be it." Lydia said. “No, the weird part is him talking through you and not me.”

“Actually I think that was because you wanted to talk to him in the first place.” Stiles said, as confident in his answer as he could be, all things considered.

Lydia hummed thoughtfully.

"How the hell are we going to convince Derek to help?" Isaac asked. "That's going to be the real hard part."

Everyone groaned in agreement.

"Well, at least we have about a month to figure it out." Stiles said hopefully.

"But why does it have to happen on my birthday?" Lydia whined and everyone chuckled a little.

"We could celebrate the day before or after?" Erica suggested, sounding a little hesitant.

Lydia gave a huge put upon sigh but Stiles knew she was a little pleased by what Erica had said.

Stiles looked around at these people he accidentally became so comfortable with as to have, dare he say it, a puppy pile with.

He poked Lydia in the leg and asked her "How'd this happen?" arm waving around at the others.

She rolled her head to frown at him. She shrugged and said "Werewolves I guess."

"Huh." Stiles said.

***

All five of them were mostly asleep, and it was well past midnight but everyone except Isaac and Stiles had called their guardians to ask to spend the night so it didn't really matter.

Everyone had raided Stiles' closet except for Boyd, who had wisely brought spare clothes because he'd apparently used to be a boy scout.

They were all still sprawled out on the pullout couch but they were watching classic monster movies instead of awful B ones.

"You're dad's home." he heard Erica mutter from where she was painting Stiles’ toe nails. She'd found the nail pollish in Lydia’s purse and had painted everyone's nails to match, much to everyone's amusement.

He hummed in acknowledgement and when he dad walked through the front door, he sent him a lazy wave.

His dad went still the same way he had the last time he found them all in the living room and asked "History project going well?"

There were a lot of sleepy murmurs of agreement.

He nodded awkwardly and stepped closer to the couch. "Ah, Isaac right?" he asked and Isaac's head shot up in surprise.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, eyes slightly terrified.

"Will you come with me into the kitchen? I need to talk with you."

Isaac looked horrified. Everyone quickly shook off their sleepiness and sat up to look at his dad.

"What's going on?" Stiles asked, suspicious at his dad's 'talking to a witness' tone.

His dad winced. "I'm afraid it's bad news, Isaac."

Isaac made a soft wounded sound and grabbed at Erica. "Just tell me here please." he whispered but he obviously already knew what had probably happened.

He only had one family member after all.

His dad didn't look too happy but he said gently "Your father was murdered a few hours ago."

Isaac gasped in shock. "Murdered?"

His dad nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. Unfortunately we're still trying to figure out what happened so I can't tell you much." he paused and looked over all them with a frown. "I do have to ask you a question though."

Stiles knew what he was going to ask and jumped in before Isaac could get even more upset. "All of us have been together since seven this morning."

His dad's eyebrows went up. "Why so early?"

Lydia answered him. "For the history project, we had to go find some old books and one of the book stores we went to was several hours away."

His dad didn't really look very convinced but he nodded. "And none of you've left here alone after you got here?"

This time Boyd answered. "No sir, we got here and worked on our project and never left."

His dad sighed and gave Isaac an awkward pat on the shoulder that Isaac flinched away from.

His dad cleared his throat and gave Isaac a knowing, if sad, look. "Well, I'm glad you're all together. I have to go back to the station but Isaac you can stay here tonight, okay?"

Isaac nodded and Stiles started planning before his dad was even out the front door.

"Are you okay?" Erica asked quietly.

Isaac sniffled and said "The only thing I can think about is what's going to happen tomorrow."

Lydia gently reached out and touched his shoulder. "That's completely normal."

Boyd nodded. "It's the shock."

Isaac looked a little relieved and laid back down on the mattress, curling up and pressing up against as many of them as he could. No one pulled away, not even Lydia.

"There was a situation with the McCalls a few years ago." Stiles said quietly. "My dad got all the foster care paperwork and home vestest all done just in case we had to take care of Scott. He's kept it all up to date, just in case."

Isaac tipped his head back to look up at Stiles in surprise. Tears welled up in his eyes and he quickly hid his face in his arms. "I can't go live with strangers. What if I hurt them on the full moon or something?"

Stiles gently pet through Isaac's hair. "My dad's never seen your puppy dog eyes. They're way better than Scott's and he caved under the combination of them and my flawless logic."

Isaac sniffled again but nodded which was good enough for Stiles.

Everyone curled up and squished together with Isaac in the middle.

They slept off and on and all took turns soothing away Isaac nightmares.

~~~

Peter was... somewhere. He didn't know where exactly but he had the suspicion he was in between places.

Strangely enough he’d always believed in reincarnation, no heaven, no hell, just a never ending cycle of birth, life, and death.

It was comforting to think that no one really died, they just ended up...somewhere else.

Of course, Peter had gone that extra step to make sure that he didn’t end up somewhere else so he shouldn’t have been surprised over the darkness.

It was entirely possible he’d been buried alive.

What a disturbing thought.

Peter would have been more worried if he couldn’t freely move his limbs.

There was nothing blocking his way, nothing above him, nothing below him, he felt like he was floating in water… Only there was no water and he could feel himself breathing in air.

If he was dead why would he need to breath?

He doubted he’d ever get an answer to any questions he had.

If time passed while he was… wherever it was, he didn’t feel it. One moment he was in nothing and the next he was standing in Lydia Martin’s bedroom.

It was a shock to the system.

He swayed on his feet and stumbled to the ground. He lay there for some time, struggling to get himself under control.

At least he now had concrete proof that his plan had worked.

And Lydia was fast asleep in bed had hadn’t realized he was in the room with her, hadn’t seen him struggling.

He could see sunlight come in from an uncovered window, watched it slid slowly across the carpet to cover his hand.

He couldn’t feel the warmth of it.

Suddenly Lydia was sitting up in bed, stretching out her arms and yawning wide.

She slid out of bed and...walked right through Peter.

Apparently ghosts were real.

All things considered for some reason Peter hadn’t considered he’d become a ghost.

~~~

Peter decided being a ghost was incredibly boring.

He couldn’t really...do much.

Sometimes he could follow Lydia around but he could never hear anything, never smell anything.

As a werewolf he’d known he relied heavily on his senses and to have them suddenly… just gone was terrible.

It was like he was consistently in a hazy cloud. Only worse because he could see everything around Lydia clearly, he just couldn’t interact with it in any way.

The times when he was with Lydia seemed random, and when he wasn’t with her he was back in the nothing ocean.

He wasn’t really sure which one was worse.

Finally, after time had seemed to pass for her but not at all for him he realized he could say words to her.

Sometimes.

That seemed to happen at random too.

The whole thing was enough to drive him crazy.

Again.

At least he’d decided it was more interesting than being trapped in his own motionless body.

At least as a ghost he could walk around a little bit.

And sometimes Lydia was interesting.

Or rather, sometimes she did interesting things.

Peter could not care any less about what a teenage girl did in her spare time or what she did in school but she seemed to have somehow become friends with Stiles and that...that caught Peter’s attention.

He couldn’t hear what they talked about, couldn’t even read their lips, no matter how hard he tried, but he could watch their body language.

Stiles didn’t seem to be doing very well.

He looked tired and stressed out.

It wasn’t what Peter had been expecting.

He’d thought that Stiles would relish being a werewolf, that he would take to it like a duck to water.

But he seemed to be struggling.

Peter found himself strangely annoyed that he couldn’t do anything to help him.

Peter certainly hadn’t wanted to help Stiles before he’d died. And while he’d had some vague ideas about what he would do if he didn’t die, he’d been fairly confident he would so he hadn’t felt the need to help Stiles even after he’d bitten him.

Maybe it was because he’d died before the bite could fully take, before a bond could form between them.

But then Lydia and Stiles did something interesting.

Peter found himself standing behind Stiles.

Stiles, Lydia, and their three new little friends that seemed to have come out of nowhere but were obviously in the know, although how they knew he had no idea, were sitting around the table in Stiles’ kitchen.

With a Ouija board.

Of all the ridiculous ideas.

Peter could feel the nothingness and something else creeping around them, the fluorescent overhead lights not nearly enough to keep it back.

He curled possessively around Stiles’ shoulders, staring down the room in general. He’d bitten Stiles, and whatever it was that was hovering around, drawn out by the summoning circle, half assed as it was, couldn’t have him while Peter was still interested.

He watched shadows roll and writhe around Lydia and the others at the table, slip underneath it and pool there, waiting.

Peter didn’t know shit about Ouija boards, outside of terrible teen horror movies, but he knew about summoning circles and he knew they should never be broken without taking proper precautions.

He murmured in Stiles’ ear, hoping that maybe, because Stiles had had a hand in calling him out he would be able to hear him.

And he could. He could feel him shivering under his hands, could suddenly feel warmth, could feel something, and it was amazing.

He wanted to bask forever in this break from the never ending nothingness.

Peter whispered in Stiles’ ear and his words fell from Stiles’ lips and floated to Lydia.

When Peter had bitten Stiles he had never expected that they would share such a connection.

Never thought that Peter’s...sprite? Consciousness? His very self could touch Stiles and use him as a conduite.

Just being able to physically feel anything, to hear Stiles’ voice, his heartbeat, to be able to breath in his scent.

It should have sent Peter spiraling.

Instead being able to so fully focus on one person in a way he’d never, ever done before grounded him.

He watched the shadows and the nothingness and the presence in the room slide away and for one moment he felt alive again.

And he knew when he was back, when was really truly alive, he wouldn’t forget how he had felt in that moment.

He tightened his grip on Stiles’ hand.

[lovelyparkers]

hard as nails (2)

summary: the second and final part to hard as nails! my 50k special!!! warnings: VIOLENCE!, a gross teenager, angst and fluff, um spiciness and swearing 2.5k words

peter parker left school that day with a hunch. he thought of the note, the knowledge that you attended the same school, the flirting, your voice...

and especially those red nails.

the same nails that belonged to you. the same ones that would pin his wrists down in several different places during fights. the same ones that stroked his cheek. it had to be you i mean, he had chills along with his spider sense. he knew it was you. and it kinda sucked. he liked you in school. he thought you were so cute and smart and sweet. and in the hero vs villain world? he thought you were mysterious and funny and...maybe a little sexy. your villain name, violet, flowed off his tongue so nicely and your hair when it blew in the wind on rooftops and your eyes that glistened under the moonlight. your signature red nails that could kill (my gosh) and your fucking party city mask.

it was y/n. it was you.

he bolted down the busy sidewalks of queens and changed into his spidey suit. his main and only focus was to track you down and find out what the fuck is going on. the only criminal he would catch tonight was you, no matter what.

you usually showed up in peter's path at some point every night, sharing some banter and flirting and the occasional play fight. but today was different. he couldn't find you. and sure it was new york but still, you always showed up and he started to worry. he swung around and around the proximity of queens several times for fun and on the lookout for you for hours.

meanwhile, you were at home doing some homework. sitting on your bed in your empty apartment writing down some notes and studying for tests. point being, you were trying to keep your mind off of daria at all costs even though she would probably find you and kill you if you didn't bring her peter. but you wanted to have a relaxing evening off your feet. maybe you would go out, maybe, you doubt it.

but you got bored, figured you'd head out on the town, steal some cash, buy yourself some treats before you get brutally murdered by a frightening middle aged woman. your victim was a kid from your school, total idiot who lived in your neighborhood and still went to midtown. you walked behind him on the sidewalk for awhile before grabbing his backpack and pulling him back into your arms.

"hey kid."

"oh my god," the kid hyperventilated, "you're that- you're that girl."

"mhm yeah i am. now give me your wallet and we won't have any trouble sweetie."

"okay," he stuttered our before reaching into his bag to pull out a wallet and hand it to you.

you dumped the contents onto the sidewalk, one hand still holding him in your grip. you fished through the items. there was loose change, a few twenty dollar bills, school id and a condom.

you held it up in his face, "really? you're that guy? you disgust me."

"i'm sorry!" he yelled.

"okay move along and get a life buddy."

you pushed him out of your path and headed down the street to a corner store which sold the greasiest funnel cake on planet earth that seemed to always be opened. you got the biggest order topped with literally everything they had and tossed a twenty on the counter pocketing the rest of your, well that kid's, cash.

you held your foam take out box filled with an enormous funnel cake and happily climbed you way up the fire escape to the nearest building. you were a little shocked you hadn't seen peter yet tonight but hey, maybe you scared him off. you sat down and enjoyed your funnel cake and watched the sunset over queens. what a nice night to be murdered.

you could still give peter up and save your own life but, deep down you couldn't. you had so much fun with him over the time you've been here and he never turned you in. he never hurt you. and you made a promise to him. he knew who you really were, a damaged kid who got caught up in the wrong crowd. but you were a shit head and peter was a hero. you stole stuff and he stopped the people who stole stuff. you couldn't risk his life for your own actions. it wasn't fair, and you realized that. now, it was time to be the good guy.

"violet," peter said, grunting as he hit the rooftop.

you turned your head to face him, "oh hey babe, want some funnel cake? i stole it sorta."

"no, i don't want stolen funnel cake. i wanna talk."

"about what," you said with a full mouth.

"about you."

"hey dude, you do this every night! i'm a bad person about to get beat and i'm trying to have a wonderful last meal."

"i'm not gonna beat you up."

"not what i meant."

"why?"

"why what?"

"why are you doing this? why are you protecting me?"

you paused, chewing and some powdered sugar fell on your leather pants, "because i know you're a good person. and i'm a shit head. and i realize that now. i just- i don't know if i can stop but anyways it will all be over tonight."

"what are you talking about," peter asked ripping off his mask.

you still faced away from him, eating, "she's gonna kill me."

"who?"

"daria. my mentor as one might say. she's gonna kill me since i didn't turn you in."

"i'm sorry what?"

"daria—"

"no i heard you just what the hell y/n, do you—" peter realized his mistake and covered his mouth with his gloved hands.

you groaned and chucked the rest of your funnel cake off the roof, "damn it man! how the fuck do you know?"

peter pulled his hands away, "the red nail polish, you should really be more careful."

you smirked, impressed, "says you."

"i'm learning," he said walking closer to you, "now whats this about getting killed."

you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in close to his face, "it doesn't concern you babe."

"seems like it does," he began, resting his hands on your waist, "since it's either me or you."

"don't worry, i'm doing you a favor," you laughed.

"yeah, that's your life. i'm not asking you to do this."

you stroked his hair, "i know. but i'm gonna."

"stop. i'll help you."

"no no no. look. i'll be at that run down place of 75th street. in two hours come and pick up my body. daria will be gone by then."

"violet- i mean, y/n, stop. i'm gonna help you."

"i don't need you to save me, hero. people need you more than they need me."

you squeezed yourself out of his arms and headed to the edge. you were about to get down to head to daria's when peter shot you with a web and pulled you toward him.

"woah there spidey, tying me up already? who know you were so kinky."

peter blushed, "listen to me. y/n i need you. i need you so so bad. you keep me grounded, i'm serious. you're a real pain in the ass sometimes but i love it. you're funny. and really really sexy might i add."

"ooh look who's flirting now."

"shut up," he laughed, "but i really need you. i'm not gonna let some middle aged woman kill you. that's not how you should go. i wanna get to know you. i can tell you don't like being a 'shit head' as you called it and i'll help you. i'll show you how to use your powers for good. we can be partners."

you smiled, thinking for a second, "i appreciate the offer but, you should just let me go."

"well these webs take two hours to dissolve."

"damn can you even last that long?"

"stop," he blushed, "i'm serious. i'm gonna help you. if you'll let me?"

you looked into his brown eyes filled with hope and slowly nodded, "okay."

"okay."

you both stood there on the roof, "so now what?"

"um we wait till my webs dissolve off you?"

"so what are you gonna do with me for the next two hours?" you smirked.

peter laughed, still blushing, "see this is what i'm talking about, a pain in the ass."

"but you love it," you laughed.

he did.

—————————

two hours later you were able to pull the webs off with the aid of peter. during those two hours you talked about all sorts of things. and you really wanted to change. you wanted to be good. and you devised a plan to take out daria.

peter swung the two of you over to daria's place and of course being you, you made several cheeky remarks which made peter almost drop you one or six times.

when you arrived, your body was almost shaking. you were actually terrified. peter put a hand on your back to calm you down and it helped a little.

"okay y/n are you ready? you go in first then i go in then we both kick her ass."

you nodded slowly.

"spidey?"

"violet?"

you grabbed his cheeks in both your hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, "see you on the other side."

you ran off, entering daria's apartment, leaving a blushing peter behind.

"holy shit."

you quietly entered daria's kitchen and called out for her.

peter came up to stand just outside the door to listen and be ready. he didn't doubt you, he just wanted to protect you. and goddamn he wanted to kiss you again.

"daria?" you asked into the empty kitchen.

"you're late," she said, "where is he?"

you said nothing.

"that's what i thought. i knew you could never do it deep down you bitch. it's almost midnight and no spider-man. you know what i said. you're going to suffer."

"what's your deal with him anyways?" you asked, steering away from the plan, "you're too lazy and fucking stupid to do anything yourself so you make me do dirty work. and you want me to rid off an innocent hero. fuck you."

shit. peter thought. this was gonna get real fighty real fast. but he nodded, it was kinda hot hearing you curse.

"don't play with me sweetheart, i protect you."

"i can protect myself. i'm done with you."

daria walked forward to you and slapped you across the face and kneed you in the stomach. you grabbed the side of your face.

"jesus what is it with you and slapping me?"

once peter heard the smack and busted right in the door and kicked daria square in the stomach. he ran to you in the kitchen to help you up.

"you okay?"

"yeah i will be babe, thanks."

daria got back up and tried the punch peter behind him but you swept her legs out causing her to pummel to the ground. she was too easy to beat. peter webbed her feet to the ground. and her hands together.

"oh c'mon taser web this bitch."

"no!"

you scoffed and walked to her side, "you're too easy to beat."

"so what, you're the good guy now?" she spat.

you looked to peter then back to daria, "yeah maybe. maybe i am."

then you pulled back your own hand and slapped her in the face.

"that's what you get bitch! you're done!"

peter grabbed your waist to prevent you from doing anything else and carried you out to the parking lot. he also called the police to get rid of that horrid woman.

"so now what?" peter asked.

"go to a rooftop? we have lots to talk about."

"you got it violet," peter winked, grabbing you again and webbing around to find a nice desolate roof.

he gently placed you down and sat next to you, taking off his mask.

"so," peter began, "what's up?"

"i'm sorry i kissed you."

"don't be. i...i liked it."

"really?"

"yeah. really. i like you, and not just violet, i like y/n, i like all of you."

you smiled, "i like you peter spider-man parker."

"good," he smiled.

there was a small moment of silence, both of you smiling over each other. and then you leaned into his side and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a passionate, well deserved kiss. it was long lasting and felt so good until peter pushed back your shoulder.

"so if i'm gonna teach you how to be good," he said licking his lips, "you have to know that i'm in charge."

"oh are you now, pretty boy?"

"mhm. now take off that mask."

you obliged, taking off your party city mask and throwing it on the roof, "there, how do i look?"

"hot as hell, babe."

"that's my thing," you reprimanded.

"hmmm i don't know."

you quickly swung a leg over peter's hips, straddling him tightly, and pushed on his chest till his back hit the roof and once again pinned his wrists down.

"babe, i think we all know who's in charge here," you whispered. peter left out a soft breath with his eyes closed, feeling you on top of him.

peter quickly brought his legs up and out pulling you up and then turning you so now your back was on the roof and he was straddling your waist.

"do we?" he asked, "because wow..."

he leaned in so close to your face that his messy brown curls were toxic hung your forehead.

"...you look even prettier underneath me."

you smirked, biting your lip, "you know, you don't look so bad on top. but if you're gonna teach me to be good, i'm gonna teach you to be bad."

"what no! i'm a hero!"

"no," you laughed, "like...dirty stuff."

"oh," he blushed.

"i can teach you so many things."

"can you now?"

"oh i sure can. i can show you a whole lot you've never seen before," you said.

peter's breath started to quicken and he just wanted to get at you right there.

"and you know, we're both pretty flexible," you joked.

"oh man y/n. you're gonna be the death of me."

it was his turn to kiss you. his lips moved against yours in a fiery passion, whilst still having you pinned down. it was the kiss of your dreams. he would groan into your lips every so often causing you to melt and when you hit his lip and just about lost it, letting go of your wrists and you took over the kiss.

who knew, a hero and an ex villain making out would ever be a thing?

[saltyspaceboi]

Just a Reddie thing

(I am still figuring out my writing style. Please be gentle with any criticisms you may have) 

Warning Angst-ish stuff. 

Part 1.

The first show Richie did after it happened was in Little Rock, Arkansas. He had performed there once or twice before never with much of a turnout. The local population tended to drift towards more Blue Collar comedy or would rather listen to that puppet guy tell the same ten jokes he’s been telling for the past decade. Although the arena he would perform at wasn’t small by any means, he figured he wouldn’t get much of a crowd.  Especially since he’d taken a nearly eight-month hiatus with no warning and had barely spoken to anyone let alone been active on social media throughout that time. 

As expected it was a small crowd. They laughed at his jokes and his impressions and he did his best not to make it obvious how much he didn’t want to be there.

His manager clapped him on the back and congratulated him as soon as it was over, so he figured he didn’t fuck it up too bad. He smiled and laughed and cracked his jokes over a fast-food dinner with his manager and some of the roadies, but looking closely would show you that a smile never reached his eyes. No one ever really looked closely. It wasn’t as if these people actually knew him. He was friendly with them, had been on the road with them too many times to count and yet... They couldn’t even tell anything was off.  

 There was a rock in Richie’s shoe. Just a small pebble, annoying and bothersome. Yet he didn’t stop to take it out. He ended up finding some use to it.  Anytime the conversation left enough room for his mind to wander and he found himself thinking about Derry at all, Richie would simply apply pressure to that pebble and have it dig painfully into his heel. Maybe he could train himself not to think at all. 

  No one asked any additional questions when he lied and said he had been gone on some emergency family business. He felt alone no matter who he was with anymore. 

It was nearly 3 in the morning when Richie finally gave up on trying to sleep in the hotel bed.  He threw on some clothes, not looking or caring what he looked like, and walked out. He decided he might as well explore while he was here.  It had looked gray and ugly on the drive in from the airport, but the thought of trying to sleep sounded as unappealing as going to the gym. 

There were only a few people dotting the streets. He could hear people laughing in the distance, music playing from some bar nearby, car horns far away. 

The air was cool and smelled like cigarettes and rain. He took a deep breath and started walking. Richie had no earthly idea where the hell he was going, but he felt like he had to go somewhere. Get away. He didn’t know what he was trying to get away from, but he had to get away. 

He came across a park alongside the river. There were some pretty neat sculptures that he paused to ponder over for a few moments. There was a little tunnel made of vines and plants that was interesting enough. He paused before walking into it. There were lamps on the inside so it wasn’t too dark or creepy. He just paused, looking into it. For some reason, it made him uneasy. As if things wouldn’t be the same on the other side. He shook his head and scoffed to himself, then entered. He could see glimpses of light from streetlamps peeking through the foliage.  He reached the other ended quicker than he thought he would, and again, he hesitated. Looking out at the dimly lit world from inside this well-lit tunnel filled him with some kind of anxiety that he couldn’t quite describe.

“For fuck's sake Rich, it’s just a stupid tunnel.” He mumbled to himself. Yet he still waited a few moments before he finally took that step to the other side. Nothing felt any different. The world was still the same on this side as it was on the other.  Richie rolled his eyes at himself. He could imagine Stanley rolling his eyes too if he were there.  Richie adjusted his foot and dug that pebble into his foot. 

“Stan’s not here.” He reminded himself. 

The voice in the back of his mind then cruelly reminded him, “Neither is Eddie.”

He dug that damn pebble deeper into his foot. 

He kept walking. Gotta get away.  

There was a jungle-gym on the other side. Richie didn’t even think, he just started to climb.  He looked out over the river from atop the jungle-gym and watched city lights dance upon the water.  For a moment everything was calm, quiet, almost perfect.  It was at that moment Richie’s chest heaved as he tried to choke back a sob. He took off his glasses and tried to wipe away tears that were suddenly flowing.  His heart ached and he cried until he caught his breath again.  Shutting up and regaining his composure as he heard a group of people approaching.

Richie dried his face with his sleeve and took several deep breaths before climbing down. It was just a handful of college kids, they smelled strongly of weed and alcohol.  Richie pulled up his hood, avoided eye contact, and started walking again. 

He eventually came upon an area next to the river, he leaned against the railing and shut his eyes, sighing deeply. 

“What the fuck is going on with me?” he whispered. He was so confused and felt so goddamn alone.  He stood there for a long time before he finally opened his eyes again. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at it, wondering if he should text someone. 

He could message Beverly. She was always the first person he thought of texting when he got like this. Richie missed her. She was always the one who knew what to say.  If Stan were still around, Richie would bet that he would be the first person he would have texted, but Beverly probably had better advice than Stan would have ever had anyways. 

Richie typed a message. 

“Hey, Bev” was all it said. Richie’sthumb hovered over the send key. It was late, maybe he shouldn’t.  He sent it anyway and for a moment felt selfish for doing it.  He moved to put his phone away but was surprised to have Beverly text back almost immediately. 

“Are you gonna make it down here tonight?”  It read. Richie squinted and reread the message. 

“What?” he sent back.

“You don’t know?” 

“Know what? You going crazy Bev?” Richie typed quickly. He waited for her to explain what the hell she was talking about. Maybe she thought he was someone else? Maybe she was in some kind of sleep delirium. 

“Call Mike.” She replied. Richie bit his lip and typed out a response. He didn’t send it. Beverly would probably just give him the same answer. She was stubborn like that. 

Richie rolled his eyes the way Stan used to do and dialed Mike Hanlon’s number.

All he got was a busy signal, so he sighed and hung up. He opened up messenger to text Beverly again. 

“Are you high right now? wtf is going on?” He typed out. Just as he sent the message, his phone rang. “Mike Hanlon, Do NOT Answer”  lit up his screen, Richie almost laughed as he had forgotten that was what he had set to be Mike’s caller ID.

“Hello?” Richie answered. 

“Richie? It’s Mike.”

“Yeah I know who you are genius,” Richie teased, “Is something going on, I texted Bev and she told me to call you. I’m not sure if she’s going wacko or if y’all are just partying without me or someth-”

“Richie.” Mike cut him off. The seriousness in his tone turned Richie’s blood to ice. 

The silence between them seemed to be an eternity long, as Richie tried to gather words to ask. 

“Is... Is it back?” Richie asked. 

“What? No! It’s not that.” Mike said. 

“Then what the hell is going on? Are you guys doing drugs or something?” 

“Richie... You need to get back down here.”

“Hell no!” Richie said. No way was he going back to Derry. He was fairly certain he never even wanted to set foot in Maine again. 

“It’s Eddie,” Mike said. 

Richie froze.  His heart lept into his throat. 

“Don’t fuck around with me like that, Mike. Tell me what the fuck’s going on before I hop on a plane just to come beat your ass.” Richie said through clenched teeth. How dare Mike try and use Eddie against him like that. How could he-?

“I’m not fucking with you,” Mike said, “They, found him. Please, I can’t explain it over the phone, you just have to come down here.” Mike begged. 

Richie gritted his teeth and hung up. He sank to his knees and started to cry again.  This time not caring if anyone saw and not trying to stop it. Sobs washed over him like a tide. He buried his fingers in his hair, trying to ground himself.  That pebble, that goddamn fucking pebble was digging into him again. 

In a hot fury, Richie ripped off his shoe and grabbed that little fucker. He reared back and threw the sucker as far as he could into the river. 

“He’s gone.” Richie sobbed, “He’s fucking gone, please just let me forget again! Why can’t I forget?” He cried. Begging whatever bullshit god might fucking exist. 

He drew in a shaking breath and tried again to stop crying. 

His phone was ringing. 

“Mike Hanlon, Do NOT Answer.” Flashed across the screen. 

Against his better judgment, Richie answered. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Richie’s voice broke. 

“Richie, Please listen to me.” Mike’s voice pleaded. 

“Don’t...” Richie tried to swallow the lump in his throat, “Don’t try and tell me he’s there. Don’t try and tell me we left him down there alone.  He... He can’t be,  He’s- Eddie he’s...“ Richie couldn’t speak further. He covered his mouth. He didn’t want Mike to hear him cry.  

“Don’t believe me, then come down here and see for yourself,” Mike said.  Richie hung up again. This time he didn’t answer when Mike called again.  Richie put his phone on silent and tugged his shoe back on. 

He adjusted himself and started walking briskly back to his hotel. 

It’s a trick. It’s some dirty trick. There’s no way. 

Richie wiped his eyes and adjusted his glasses as he walked. He headed straight up to his room and fell into his bed. He didn’t bother removing his clothes. He knew he wasn’t going to sleep anyways. 

Richie simply gripped onto a pillow and cried some more.  It must have been an hour before he looked at his phone again. 

17 missed calls.  15 from “Mike Hanlon Do NOT Answer”, and 2 from “Bev.” 

There were several text messages too. Richie shoved the phone under the pillow without looking at any of them. 

“It’s a trick. It’s some dirty rotten trick. It’s a trick, you bet your fur it is.” Richie kept repeating to himself. He got up and went to shower. Maybe it would help. 

It didn’t.  He got out of the shower and almost robotically put his clothes back on.  Then he packed his things up, went downstairs and checked out of the hotel, and got an Uber to take him straight to the airport. 

“It’s a trick,” He kept thinking, but that didn’t stop him from purchasing a red-eye flight to Tennesse, from there he could catch a flight to New York and finally go to Maine from there. He didn’t look at his phone until he got to New York the next morning. 

He had 8 more missed calls. 4 from “Mike Hanlon, Do NOT Answer” 2 from “Bev” 1 from “Ben Hanscom” and 1 from “Can’t write for shit Bill”

Richie had put that in as his contact for Bill Denbrough purely because Bill had been watching him do it and knew it would annoy the shit out of him. 

Richie was sitting in the New York airport terminal, waiting for the final flight, when he texted Mike. 

“Where are you guys?” 

Mike replied with the address and after a moment sent another message.

“Are you coming?”

Richie thought about making a sex joke, but instead just turned his phone off. Not wanting to look at any of the worrying messages Bev or anyone else had sent him.

“It’s a trick.” He said to himself. “It’s a trick and you’re probably gonna wind up dead.” but he never turned back, and didn’t hesitate when he boarded the next flight. 

“Well if it isn’t a trick, somebody owes me money for this shit.” he thought. 

He chuckled a bit at the thought.  Then as he strapped into his seat and waiting again for a final flight, he whispered, 

“Please don’t be a trick.”

[irronstarkss]

target.

pairing | derek morgan x reader

word count | 2627

warnings | none yet

part one | part two | part three | part four

criminal minds masterlist 

|

He’s targeting you, Morgan,” Hotchner warned him, eyes set and cold, “and he will not let up until you break.”

“With all due respect, Hotch,” Derek looked up at his superior and pursed his lips, “I will not break.”

“You don’t know that, Derek,” he said, eyes trained on the agent’s face, “I’ve experienced the lengths they will go to. I know what his kind is capable of. You put him away, so he wants his vengeance. And that means starting with whatever you hold dear.”

Morgan stayed silent, crossing his arms and clenching his jaw. He knew what Hotch meant, he understood every word that came out of his mouth, but he didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that it could be true. That meant that Morgan could be one-upped, that he could be beat.

“Has he tried contacting you? Usually this kind of unsub will call, text, or even mail something to you.”

“No, nothing,” Morgan moved forward and sat down in a chair in front of Hotch’s desk.

“Has he tried contacting y/n? Has she told you about anything strange?”

Derek shook his head, swallowing hard. What if he went after her? What was Derek going to do then? What was he supposed to do if he killed her? So help him God, if that man ever laid a finger on y/n, that would be the last thing he ever did.

“Morgan, if any type of contact ever happens, you have to let me know. Until then, we have to find out what we can, see if we can catch him before it’s gotten too far.”

Morgan just nodded, standing from the chair and wishing Hotch a good night. As he left the office, he pulled out his phone and dialed y/n’s number, putting it to his ear and listening to the dial tone. It took a few rings before she finally picked up, and when she did, Morgan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, “Hey, baby girl.”

“Hey, handsome,” she said, a smile evident in her voice, “where you at?”

“I’m leavin’,” he said, letting out a sigh, “everything okay at home?”

“Yeah, Clooney is goin’ a little stir crazy without you bein’ around, but, everything’s good. Why, what’s up?”

“I,” Morgan started. He stopped himself when he realized that he couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t keep this from her like that. She needed to know so that if anything were to happen, she could warn him. “I’ll explain it all when I get home. What’d you make for dinner tonight?”

“Your favorite,” she said, giggling a little at something else on her side of the phone.

“Say no more, I’m on my way. See you soon, baby girl. Love you,” he smiled, grabbing his jacket from his chair.

“Love you too, D, get home safe,” she pulled away from the phone and ended the call.

Derek walked down to his car and pressed the unlock button on his keys, climbing in and shutting the door. As he put the key in the ignition and started the engine, buzzing filled his ears. He flipped up the phone and saw the caller ID – just a number with a DC area code.

He silenced the call and shook his head, pulling out of the parking garage and getting lost in his thoughts as he drove home. He couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub – Rodrick Freeman, a serial killer with a demented motive to kill any and all couples who came across his path. In his life, the man had never been able to keep a partner, couldn’t even sustain a relationship to the second date.

This, along with the stressor of losing his last family members, brought him to the idea that the only way for him to get off, to get the attention he felt he deserved, was to kill. He started with older, married couples, then slowly moved his way down the spectrum to people who were practically on their first date.

Morgan was the one who caught him all those years ago. Morgan was the one who tackled him, saved a woman who he was about to shoot, and ultimately stopped him from killing ever again. After that, Freeman was the last thing on Derek’s mind. He met y/n maybe six or seven months later, got with her within the year, and they hadn’t broken up since.

In fact, it got more and more serious. Y/n lived with him, bore an engagement ring on her finger, and was the most important thing in Derek’s life, alongside his sisters and his mom. He cherished that woman with everything in him, and it pained his heart and mind to even think about her being hurt.

He shook his head and pulled into his driveway, turning off the car and heading into the house. He opened the front door, being greeted by his dog at the entrance, and hearing her voice come from the kitchen, “Derek, baby, that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he closed the door and locked it, setting his keys down in the basket and walking into the kitchen to where she was. His arms wrapped around her waist and his chin rested on her shoulder, giving a small kiss to her neck before sighing in content. “How was your day, baby girl?”

“Good, kinda boring,” she answered, scraping at the hamburger meat in the pan, “Kyra bothered Josh about getting together again, Emily wouldn’t stop talking about her mom, Damien and Meg broke up – again. Basically same old, same old.”

“Wait, again? Thought they never got back together,” he said, side of his mouth coming up in confusion.

“So did everyone else in the office, but apparently not,” she turned off the stove and then turned around in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. “She’s crazy, Der, I swear. And that man is no good for her, and everyone tells her that. But does she listen? Hell no.”

Derek laughed, kissing her lips and shaking his head, “Who would’ve thought that working with paralegals was so… drama filled?”

“Tell me about it,” she rolled her eyes, then let her palms rest on his biceps, “so, tell me about your day. How’s the BAU team?”

Derek felt himself stiffen, and he knew that y/n had noticed as soon as he did. Her eyebrows drew together and her fingers pressed a little into his arms, her own way of showing silent worry. “An unsub resurfaced,” he said quietly, “one that I put away a while ago.”

“Oh?” She was intrigued, still staring up at him with concerned and curious eyes.

“Yeah. He was a rough one. Serial killer that killed any couples he found, no matter how far along they were in their relationship,” he paused, watching the cogs in her head turn.

“Did he have a bad history with relationships? Maybe a guy with a quick temper and no types of attention or love?”

Derek pulled away from her for a moment, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, and offering her a something. She nodded, Derek pulling out her drink and handing it to her before he took a swig of his own. “Exactly that. But, anyway, he started targeting this one couple, showed up to their house. But we saw it coming. We got to the house just after he had, and got in just in time for him to tie them up and, uh, start his torture.

“So, I got in there as fast as I could, tackled him, and got the couple out of there safe. Guy got arrested, sentenced to forty years and after that, I just forgot about him.”

“But, what?” She asked, pushing off the stove and taking a drink of her beverage, “Why is he coming back up?”

“He’s out,” Derek said, looking at y/n with a defeated stare, “and he’s, uh, he’s after me.”

Y/n froze, blinking and starting to shake her head, “I-I don’t, I don’t understand. What do you mean, after you?”

Derek cleared his throat, “He killed someone, left a message for me at the scene. Hotch said that this kind of unsub would do anything to get what he wants, and that’s me.”

Y/n sat back, looking at Derek, then down at the floor, “Goddamn.” Her voice was a whisper, a tone of shock, disbelief, and fear lacing her words. “So,” she swallowed, “so what do we do?”

“Nothing,” he crossed his arms, setting down his water, “we do nothing.”

“Nothing? How can we do nothing, Derek? This man, he’s, he’s after you! We can’t just sit around and wait for him to act on you!” Her chest started heaving, and she looked like she was about to cry, “I can’t just let something like that happen to you, Derek. I can’t lose you because of some son of a bitch like him.”

“Baby, hey,” he pushed off the counter, reaching out and pulling her against his chest. Her hands rested against his shoulders, and Derek felt more helpless than he ever had in that moment. “I won’t let him hurt me. I won’t let him do anything to you, to me, to anyone else, okay beautiful? I won’t let it happen.”

She looked up, “Promise me that, Derek.”

He put his fingers underneath her chin, rubbing his thumb against her cheekbone, “I promise you, baby girl. I promise.”

She nodded, then sighed, wiping at her eyes and then smiling, “Okay, okay. How about we eat?”

Derek nodded, kissing her lips softly, then her forehead. “I could eat.”

The rest of the night, they did their best to avoid the subject. By the time the two were in bed, the conversation was in the back of their minds. Derek held y/n against his bare chest, Clooney at their feet, and they fell asleep.

The next morning, Morgan woke up to a cold side of the bed. He groaned, cracking one eye open and looking toward the bathroom. He could see her in there, standing in her bra and a pair of pants. Her hair was semi-wet, and Derek realized that he loved the sight of her getting ready in the morning. “Baby girl?”

She turned to him, “Morning, handsome. There’s still another couple hours before you have to wake up.”

He turned, looking at the clock beside his bed. There was a few hours until he had to get up, but why was she up this early? “Why you up, then? Don’t you go in later than I do?”

“Oh, yeah,” she put in an earring, looking back at the mirror, “got called in early today. Something about Anders needing a hand with a new employee? Didn’t know we were hiring, but I figured why not, right?”

Derek closed his eyes and nodded, his forearm falling over his face, “Ah, okay. I’m gonna go back to sleep, baby. Let me know when you leave?”

“Yeah,” she said. Derek fell back to sleep, waking up a little bit later to her kissing his forehead and wishing him a good day. “Love you, be safe.”

He mumbled back an I love you, too before he went back into his slumber. And, for the last time, he woke up to his alarm going off. He pulled out of bed, rubbing at his chest and stretching out his arms before going through his morning routine, and leaving for work.

His day went by like a blur, beginning in DC and ending in DC, filled with paperwork and random facts from Reid about various Russian historical practices and facilities. As he left the building, calling y/n and checking in with her (like he always did), and heading down to his car, he got a call from the same number as yesterday.

His brows furrowed at the number on the screen, so he answered it, “Hello?”

“Derek,” a man’s voice came into his ear, “SSA Derek Morgan. How are you, old friend?”

Derek looked around him, “Who is this?”

“Who do you think?”

“Freeman,” his jaw clenched, and he let out an angry breath. “What the hell do you want?”

“It’s not about what I want, Morgan. It’s about who,” Morgan could hear the sadistic smile in his voice.

Morgan stayed silent, choosing to listen to the man.

“That who, Morgan. She’s beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, no, you stay away from her, you hear me? Stay away,” Morgan gripped the phone tighter, climbing into his car and starting the engine.

“I haven’t done anything yet, Derek,” he spoke. “But, rest assured, I will. If this is the reaction I get by even mentioning her, man, what would happen if I actually touched her? If I made her–”

“Stop. Don’t you say another goddamn word, you son of a bitch,” Morgan was angry. Furious. He couldn’t contain the emotions, couldn’t keep himself calm, “You stay the hell away from her, stay the hell away from me.”

The line went dead as soon as Derek’s sentence ended, and he let out a grunt as he threw his phone into the passenger seat. He raced home, whipping into the driveway and practically jogging to the door. It was opened, slightly ajar, and that sent Derek’s heart soaring. His hand went to his gun, pulling it from the clip and raising it.

He walked in, “Y/n? Baby, you here?”

“Derek? That you?” He heard her voice, traveling from their bedroom upstairs. His eyebrows furrowed and he ran up the stairs, looking down the hallway and seeing their bedroom door open.

He walked quickly to the room, gun pointed upward. As he walked in, he saw her standing by the bed, laundry in her hands. She was folding a pair of her shorts, and she almost screamed whenever she looked up to see his gun. “Derek, woah, it’s just me. Put the gun down, baby.”

Derek sighed, placing the gun back in its holster and looking back up at her, “Why’s the front door open?”

“Open? I don’t know,” she let the shorts fall from her hands and land on the bed. “I didn’t hear anything in the house. I’m okay.”

Rubbing his hand across his face, he shook his head and laid on the bed in front of him. He looked up at the ceiling, and whispered, “Y/n, I’m scared.” It was like admitting a fault, a sin, but he couldn’t help it. He had to be honest with her, honest with himself. He was beyond terrified that Freeman was going to do something to her.

“Derek, talk to me,” she said, putting down the laundry and sitting beside him on the bed.

“This unsub, y/n,” he sighed, “he– he’s taunting me. He’s taunting me with you, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, look at me, Derek,” she gently turned his chin to her, “look at me. I’m okay, I’m right here, and I’m okay.”

Derek nodded, pulling her to his chest and pressing a kiss to her forehead. There were a few moments of silence, tense yet comforting silence, before she let out a sigh and said, “Now, you wanna help me with this laundry?”

Laughing, he nodded and then remembered the door downstairs, “Two seconds. Let me go get the door, I’ll be right back.”

Pulling himself up from the bed, he smiled as her hand slid away from his chest and he walked downstairs. Clooney greeted him at the base of the stairs and he gave a quick scratch to the dog’s ears before looking back up at the door.

It was closed.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

I am OBSESSED with this gif of Vincent Price trotting....

[cherry3point14]

ALONE | OH YES, THE PAST CAN HURT

DESCRIPTION: It’s not often you clean up a monster’s mess but neither is it often you visit Cold Oak.

SERIES MASTERLIST

[Chapter Five is drumroll, a flashback. Characters: Reader, OFC (Readers Sister) Warnings: mention of death, dead bodies, decomposition and feels]

Cold Oak, South Dakota. October 2007

Six months you'd been looking. Six grueling months with not a word, not a peep. You haven't hunted, barely slept more than thirty minutes at a time, only when your body absolutely refuses to drive another mile or take another step. Surviving on a diet of whatever is nearest the register when you fill up the gas.

But now you have a tip. If you could call it that. You hoped, beyond all doubt that it was, in fact, a cruel lie. The taunting of a demon bastard before he'd been sent back to hell. They're all such stellar liars you remind yourself that it can't be true. You just had to look harder.

You'd driven here anyway, white-knuckled.

Sixteen hours from Kentucky and you'd shaved three hours off of that with your foot down. Only pulling over twice to close your eyes before opening them just as quick. The demon's face was all you'd seen in sleep, his thin lips stretching over his teeth as they formed the words over and over again.

Your sweet little sister is lying in a ditch at Cold Oak.

You knew the lore about Cold Oak obviously. A lot of hunters did. The most haunted town in, well, anywhere. You almost smiled thinking about it remembering when Alex told you the story. He always whispered stories to you when neither of you could sleep, or when you were on a particularly long trip. As if he knew that he needed to pass it all on. As if he knew he knew that you'd outlive him. 

What you wouldn't give to have him with you now soothing your soul in that effortless way of his, without you even knowing.

Seeing the town felt more real than any muttered ghost story. Even from a distance, it looked like a place so steeped in darkness that you'd be surprised if it ever saw the sun. You could've sworn it wasn't this cold yet either, but you were still deathly chilled as you opened the car door. When your feet finally landed on the ground every hair on your body spiked. This was more than a story, this was the stuff of nightmares, hunter or not.

You only walked as far as the bell that sat in the empty town square. Even in the middle of the afternoon, you weren't sure what might try to come at you and you had no desire to stay longer than you needed to. Being here, ghost central, even the iron crowbar in your hands felt flimsy but you'd nodded to yourself as you begin to backtrack. A small slip of satisfaction. This town may have been haunted but there were no signs of this so-called ditch.

But of course, there wasn't. The ditch, if it existed, wouldn't be in the middle of town. 

So as dusk started to settle you wandered the fields set against the surrounding forest, the last vestiges of land between the town and trees. It didn't take long to find it. After all, a ditch is more than just a ditch when it's filled with dead bodies.

You've seen dead bodies before obviously but this? This is something else entirely. Bodies piled high like cast aside rag dolls. The smell assaults your nose. The sight is burned into your retinas, yet you cannot look away.

Some are twisted and broken beyond all recognition. Some have no fatal wounds on them at all and you might not think they were dead if they weren't already decomposing. You're surprised none are missing limbs, but you suppose even wild animals can sense the evil of this place.

Regardless of how they appeared to die they all have one thing in common, all of them were left here without a care. Every single one of them deserved better. For a few minutes, you don't know what to do but stare and mourn and curse the bastard responsible.

That goddamn yellow-eyed bastard.

You don't know what causes you to do it. It's not just to find her if she's in there, something deep in your gut drives you forward with a greater purpose. Unlike the monsters who did this, you are going to show these poor souls some fucking respect. 

You figure clinging to your humanity might be how you get through this. 

It's a quick trip back to your car for long industrial gloves you keep as part of your kit before you climb into the hole. It's more horrifying than you could have imagined, even while staring and looking at it. You search each one for a wallet or ID. Anything any of them might have on them. Anything that can help you find out who is being put to rest. 

It's backbreaking and after minutes you already have a thin film of sweat coating your skin. You work carefully of the distended dead, some already deep in the liquid stages of decomposing. But you grit your teeth and do it. Because nobody else will.

Eventually, you can't feel your jaw anymore for holding your flashlight between your teeth, so you make a temporary strap with your belt to attach it to your shoulder, using it and the moonlight to keep working. Every single body you move is checked, counted, salted and laid down with as much dignity as you can physically muster. You're turning what was a pile of castaways into neat rows of bodies, you figure it's the least they goddamn deserve.

A few hours in and you can't even smell the decay anymore even though it must be sticking to you like glue. The cold of the night is incapable of cutting through heat you’re radiating, due to the physical labor.  

It must be after midnight when you see it… her.

You're over halfway through your work when an arm tumbles out of the pile with a familiar watch attached. You bought it for her when she got accepted to Sarah Lawrence, her first choice for college. For you, time stands as still as the hands of that watch.

She'd thought she wouldn't get in, she'd worried and whined for weeks. So, when she did, like you'd assured her over and over that she would, you bought her the watch. It was the most expensive thing she owned but worth every penny because you were so damn proud of her that your chest nearly burst when she'd called you with the news.

As trembling, glove-covered fingers reach out and graze the gold strap you remember how whenever you'd ask her the time she'd respond with, "the fancy time is…" Somehow your lip curls at the memory even though your heart feels like it's drummed its last beat.  

The watch stopped at exactly 5:36 and there's a crack running through the glass of the face. You don't know how long ago but suddenly you know this small tidbit of information. The shining light that was your sister was snuffed out at 5:36. And like that you forget yourself, you forget your self-assigned task and the fact that you're standing in a ditch of the dead in the middle of the night. You push aside the body half covering her to look into her cloudy, lifeless eyes. They're still open, staring blankly into nothing. Not at you or the sky or anything. Your vision finally blurs as hot tears roll over your cheeks. They come silently and fast, mingling with the sweat that’s slicked on your skin as you hold your sister to your chest. No thought spared for the state of her, rigid and frozen in your arms.

There's no amount of time that you kneel there. Time is nothing anymore. You just stay there, stroking her cheek, her messy hair, running a finger over her rosebud lips like she might swat your hand away. You cry until you physically run out of tears. Until your own lips are chapped and dry from whispering rushed secrets and lengthy apologies. You're a hunter. You kill ghosts and ghouls and demons. You should have told her. Maybe she would have been better prepared for a world that did this to her. Maybe she'd be alive. You're so endlessly sorry.

But sorry isn't enough.

You carry your sister out of the open grave and lay her gingerly on the flat earth next to the pile of ID's you've collected so far. You close your eyes and press a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the feel of her mottled skin and instead remembering the last time you kissed her, while she was warm and golden and alive.

She was twenty-two years old. She'd barely taken her first steps into the world. 

You pick up the pace with the rest of the bodies, suddenly wanting to be done and out of this place forever. You don't bother to wipe your face or slow down when your muscles cry out in fatigue. When you've finished you sprinkle more salt, then lighter fluid, and then you light a match. One match for 137 bodies. Not that you watch them all burn. As soon as the fire is lit, and the job is done you collapse on the ground next to your sister. Gloves peeled off, torch ripped from your shoulder.

Just the moonlight and the dying fire illuminating your matching heart-shaped faces.

You sit with her until long after the fire dies down and the sun begins to rise.

Hours and hours. Like there might be something you'll forget if you rush. You tell her about Alex, the man she'd met as your friend, but you knew as your hunting partner. You tell her everything he taught you. That first case where he saved you and you, as stubborn as you were, refused to let him leave. Insisted he took you with him once you knew about the things that go bump in the night. You tell her about how he died and how you’d been there and again sorry falls from your lips for not being here for her. You talked until your throat protested and then some. Leaving no stone unturned, no story untold. Everything laid bare to the person who was, while living, your slice of normality, and would be, in death, the keeper of all your secrets.

You kissed her one more time before you started digging her grave, your lips whispering how proud you are of her. Telling her that she will always be loved. Never forgotten. 

Your shoulders protest as you dig but you're determined she will have a resting place all her own. It's harder than you thought it would be to put her in the hole. Tough to know you'll leave her in this dirt grave you've carved out for her. Your fingers are stiff as you liberally pour salt and lighter fluid over your baby sister.

But you will not allow her to become another twisted spirit in this godawful place. None of them will be.

Your nails cut into your own palms, enough to draw blood, as you watch the fire lick at her skin. She was too young. She was the best person you'd ever known. She was your anchor to your life before all of this. Before you were the sort of person that carried salt and guns and shoved knives into hearts on a regular basis. 

You could go crazy blaming yourself and Lord knows you'll spend the rest of your life, however long it is, carrying this burden. But with each shovel of earth that you pack on top of her ashes, you feel those aches in your muscles tighten. After watching two fires incinerating the innocent the only one left now is the burning fury in your gut. 

You want to rip and shred and burn your way through anything you can. You want to cause the kind of devastation that had been so carelessly bestowed upon 137 families, and you. The lone survivor of yours. 

And you know just where to look for justice because you've been surrounded by the smell all night. Amongst the death that taints the air is the answer, sulfur. The bitter perfume tainting the place like it’s imprinted on every blade of grass. 

You will get their justice. You will get your explanation.  

But while you stand at the foot of her grave with your fingers wrapped around the gold watch in your pocket the unavoidable truth crushes you. 

You won’t get your sister back. 

Continue to Chapter Six

Tagged for updates: @otterskies (let me know if you want in)

[woods2006gal]

Chapter 08 - Greenback Boogie

“Zoey. Zoey.”

Zoey opens her eyes. She didn’t remember what had happened after leaving her friend’s house. She was in the back seat of the car. Her dad was driving.

“Zoey.”

Zoey climbs over the seat. Her dad wasn’t moving. Blood covered his face. “Daddy,” she asks, touching his shoulder.

“Zoey.”

She turns and finds her mom staring at her. Her mom was covered in blood too. Shannon reaches out an arm. “Zoey, come here.” She climbs onto her mom’s lap. Shannon places a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

Zoey nods. “Mommy, what happened?”

“We were in an accident, sweetheart.” Shannon coughs. Blood lands on Zoey’s hair. It was the same bright blonde color as Shannon’s. Shannon lets out a groan.

“Mommy?”

“Sweetheart. I will always love you.”

Zoey buries her face in Shannon’s neck. “I love you too, Mommy.” She doesn’t see the tears fall from Shannon. She hears Shannon gasping for air. Then silence. “Mommy?”

“Max, this is not the time do this,” Austin says as they climb out of his Range Rover in the Smallville Sheriff’s office parking lot. Zoey’s frantic call to him that morning about Jonathan being arrested for attempted murder had caused him to rush over to the small town. It just happened that Max had arrived in town early to help Zoey get ready for the annual Wayne Foundation Gala.

“It’s the perfect time,” Max argues. “He can’t actually touch me.”

“We both know that Jonathan wouldn’t actually hurt you, Max. He cares too much about Zoey to do that. Besides, it’s best that we bring this up with Martha and Jonathan at the same time.”

Max stops and turns to his friend. “Austin, none of us saw how drunk Zoey was at her birthday party. If Oliver hadn’t said anything, I would have never known.”

“Max, she’s a teenager. A rich one. You can’t tell me that you didn’t do the same thing at her age.”

“I didn’t. And you know that. You also know that Shannon did her first stint at fifteen. Then twice more. The only thing that actually caused Shannon to become sober was getting pregnant with Zoey. My dad, my grandparents. I can’t let this continue to pass through my family. I can’t let it destroy my family.”

Austin sighs. He was very aware of the addiction issues that the Carmichael family had a long history with. He had been alarmed to hear from Max just how drunk Zoey had been at her birthday party. He had been the one to pay a visit to the head of security and get the video of Zoey making out with Oliver in the hallway. He knew how worried Max was about his niece. “Look, we’ll get it figured out, Max. I promise.”

The make their way into the sheriff’s office and are quickly escorted to the cell that Jonathan was being held in. “You look like shit,” Max greets, when Jonathan stands from the threadbare bed and walks over to the bars.

Austin forces a smile. “We know you’ve had a rough night and morning,” he clarifies. “Zoey says that you’ve been accused of attempting to murder Lionel Luthor.”

“Well, if you’re going to attempt to kill anyone, then why not go big,” Max jokes. He receives two unamused looks.

“Look, Mr. Wells, I can’t exactly afford—” Jonathan begins.

Austin shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just tell us what happened.”

Jonathan sighs. “I was out running some errands and I stopped by the Wild Coyote for a beer. The next thing I know, I’m out on the side of Highway 91, I’ve got the police spotlight shining in my face, it’s raining…”

Max frowns. “You had just one beer?”

“Half a beer,” Jonathan corrects.

“Half a beer and you don’t remember how you got from the bar to being on the side of the highway?”

“When I got in my truck, everything started to go woozy on me.”

Max turns to Austin. “You need—”

Austin holds up his Blackberry. “Already on it. Jonathan, I’m gonna get someone down here and they’re gonna do a blood draw. Hopefully, whatever they roofied you with is still in your system.”

“GHB tends only stay in your system for about twelve hours. At most.”

“We’re in a race against the clock. I’m gonna see if we can get you a bail hearing for this afternoon.” Austin steps closer to the bar. “Jonathan, don’t say another goddamn word to the police. I mean it. I don’t care if you’re old high school buddies or you fucked their sister or whatever. Do not say another word.”

Max runs into the emergency room waiting area. Austin follows after him. He makes his way up to the security desk. “My niece was brought in. Her parents were...in an accident. They told me she was brought her.” Getting a call at three in the morning from the Star City police and being told of the car accident that had killed his sister and brother-in-law caused him to get on the first flight out of Boston. It had taken all day for him and Austin to make it to Star City. The police had let him know that Zoey had been taken to Star City General Hospital.

The security guard stands up. The hospital had been hounded all day by the press. Photographers were camped outside the entrance. He knew exactly who Max was. “Mr. Carmichael, I have to check your ID. It’s hospital policy.”

Max yanks out his wallet and thrusts it at the guard. “Please. Where is she?”

The guard stands up. “She’s in the back. I’ll escort you,” he says. He glances at Austin. “Family only.”

Max shakes his head. “He’s family.”

“Max, it’s fine,” Austin tells him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Go. I’ll wait out here.”

Max is led through the busy emergency department by the security guard to a curtained off corner. He steps behind the curtain and finds Zoey curled up on the bed. A plastic bag sat in a chair. She wore a hospital gown. Her hair was covered in blood. “Zoey,” Max softly says, placing a hand on her shoulder. Zoey looks him, pain filled in her green eyes. He sits down on the bed and she immediately craws onto his lap, burying her face in his shoulder. He feels her tears streamed down his neck. “I got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Max grabs Zoey’s arm and leads her into a corner of the kitchen. The sheriff’s department was conducting a search of the Kent farm. He had made sure to remind the sheriffs that Martha had legal representation and that they were not to question her without a lawyer present. Max knew how much pressure the sheriff would be under to ensure that whoever shot Lionel was put behind bars. “Oliver told me about how drunk you were at your birthday party,” he quietly says.

Zoey lets out an annoyed breath. “Uncle Max—”

“No. Don’t Uncle Max me. You just turned sixteen. Not twenty-one. You are not supposed to be drinking. So, it ends now. If I catch you with another drink in your hand, your ass is going to rehab so fast that the other alcoholics there will be fighting to get that drink.”

Zoey sighs. “Yeah. Fine. No more booze.”

“Tomorrow, we’re going to see your therapist.”

“Uncle Max—”

“This isn’t a negotiation, Zoey. I saw the security footage. You’re lucky that it didn’t leak to the press before Austin managed to get it. And you’re damn lucky that it was Oliver who ran into you and not someone else.”

Zoey looks down. Max never chastised her for anything. “I’m sorry,” she softly says, blinking back tears.

Max draws her into a tight embrace. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he whispers. “You know that i grew up watching your mom doing everything under the sun. You know that she went to rehab three times. I refuse to let you go down the same path.”

“Martha, can I have a word with you,” Ethan, the sheriff, loudly says.

Max pulls back and they walk over to where Martha was standing with Clark. “Martha, I’m advising you to not answer any questions,” he tells her.

Ethan holds up a back with a watch in it. “I found this watch on your bedroom floor. Is it yours?”

“Do not answer that.” Max looks at Ethan. “Anything that was said between Martha and her husband is spousal privilege.”

Ethan shoots Max a frustrated look. “I don’t know how they do in Star City, Mr. Carmichael, but here—”

“Laws are pretty much the same, sheriff.” Ethan shakes his head and walks away, knowing that Max wasn’t going to let him talk to Martha or Clark. “It’s weird doing this without wearing a three piece Tom Ford.”

Clark frowns. “Mom, maybe you should talk—”

“Clark, I didn’t realize you graduated number in your class at Harvard law school or were the first openly gay man to be editor of the Harvard Law review. Do you also take pro bono cases? I know a legal clinic in Star City that could some more volunteers,” Max interrupts. He looks at Zoey. “You’re joining the debate team. None of my pro bono clients actually make it to a court room, so I don’t get verbal thrown down or show off my skills often.” He turns back to Martha and Clark. “When I say don’t talk to the police, I mean it. They are not your friends right now. They will fuck you over in heartbeat.”

Max stares at his lawyer with disbelief. He was expecting to get custody of Zoey. He had already been looking at schools in Cambridge and talked with a couple of different ones. He had even started searching for a therapist. “Shannon and Matt had it specified in their will that Zoey will live in Smallville with her godparents,” the lawyer says.

“Who are these people?”

“Jonathan and Martha Kent. Jonathan was an old friend of Matt’s. Apparently, they played on the football team together and took the team to the state championship.”

“What the fuck does that have to do anything?”

Austin covers Max’s hand with his. “Is there anything we can do,” he asks.

The lawyer sighs. “Well, you can engage in a custody battle. If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll get the started on the paperwork.” He slides an envelope across the table. “Shannon left you this letter.”

The lawyer walks out of the room. “You read it,” Max softly says.

Austin picks up the envelope and opens it. The letter from Shannon explained why she had agreed with Matt’s request to have a couple that Max had never met take custody of Zoey. She had felt guilty, for the cheating and for the drug abuse. For needing to appease Matt. And not wanting to burden him while he was in law school. The public didn’t know about Shannon’s problems. The elder Carmichael sibling had a lifetime of experience at hiding everything. Max had been shocked to hear about her cheating. Neither of them had taken sides while Shannon and Matt had fought; they had focused on Zoey while a paternity test was conducted. They were both thankful that Matt had turned out to be Zoey’s father.

“You should read it,” Austin tells him.

Max shakes his head. “I can’t. She...Shan is fucking me over.”

“She was trying to apologize to Matt. He requested and she wanted to make him happy.”

“He was a good guy. And she nearly ruined him.” Max wipes a few tears from his eyes. “I talked with the M.E. Shannon had cocaine in her system when she died. She was high. She would have lived if she hadn’t done so much cocaine.”

“I’m sorry.”

Max sighs as he shifts on the couch. The therapist’s office had views of the river. The session had barely started and he knew that it was going to be a hard one. “My dad died of liver disease,” he begins. “He would drink a bottle of Jim Beam in two days. My grandparents weren’t much better. I’m pretty sure they were very unhappy with my dad for deciding to raise me. He had an heir to the business. And I was an...accident that should have been gotten rid of. But Shannon and my dad didn’t see it that way. They loved me. They had their problems, but they loved him. They accepted me for who I am, for who I loved. I miss her. I will always miss her.”

“If Shannon was here, what would you say to her,” Dr. Specter questions. Caroline Specter had been Zoey’s therapist since she had moved to Smallville. Martha would drive Zoey to the sessions once a month. Max had made sure to always be there for he sessions.

“I would ask what drove her to do so much cocaine that night. The car accident isn’t what killed her. The cocaine killed her.”

Zoey stares at her uncle. “Wha-what-what do you mean, Uncle Max?”

“When I went down to claim the bodies, I asked what the cause of deaths was. For Matt, it was blunt force trauma to his head and chest. For Shannon...it was an overdose. Her injuries were severe, but she would have survived the crash.”

Dr. Specter turns to Zoey. “Zoey, how does hearing that make you feel?”

“Uncle Max, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to protect you. You have an enough trauma from that night. You don’t need more added to it,” Max answers.

“You should have told me!”

“Zoey,” Dr. Specter begins. “What do you remember from that?”

“I remember...I remember listening to my mom take her last breaths. Waiting for someone to arrive. Then being woken up by a firefighter.”

“What do you remember about your mom? In general?”

“She was very loving. She would always make breakfast on Saturday mornings. And she always told me a bedtime story. She was very protective. Of me, Uncle Max, and Ollie.”

“Do you think Max was just trying to protect the memories you have of your mother?” Zoey nods. “What made you decide to start to drinking?”

“I felt lonely. And guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha have money problems. I...I don’t have to worry about money. I know that whatever college I get into, that paying for it won’t be a stressful thing. I don’t fit in there.” Zoey wipes away a tear. “I hate that I feel so different. It took me two years to make a friend there. Then Mike moves away. It took eight years for me to finally feel like I belong. And I barely feel like I belong now.”

“I’m going to talk to Jonathan and Martha about you coming to live with me in Star City,” Max says. He sees Zoey shift. “Zoey—”

“I don’t want to start high school all over again,” Zoey interrupts. “I don’t want to be the new kid. I did that once.”

“You can’t stay somewhere where you feel so miserable.”

“What if Zoey became emancipated,” Dr. Specter suggests. They look at her with surprise. Dr. Spector closes her notebook where she had been taking notes. “Zoey, this is not the first time that you brought up feeling guilty. And while Mike did move away last year, you’ve also told me that you’ve become friends with Lana and Lex over the past year. I can see why you don’t want to leave when it took you so long to carve out a place in Smallville. But if your guilt over the financial situation has put you on the path to being an alcoholic at the age of sixteen, then it’s no longer healthy for you stay with your godparents.”

Max frowns. “But she needs someone to stay with her. She’s done this drinking without anyone noticing.”

“Instead of making these sessions once a month, we can make them once a week. I can also arrange for Zoey to attend some AA meetings. I’m sure Austin can be able to check up on Zoey once a week, in person. And you can still do your monthly in person check ins, Max. If not more frequently over the phone.”

“Would a judge even sign off on that,” Zoey asks.

“I believe so. You get straight A’s in school, have extra curricular activities that you participate in, you have the means to be financially independent. There’s no reason why a judge wouldn’t signed off on it.”

“But what about Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha? They won’t go for it.”

Max sighs. “I will take care of Jonathan and Martha.”

~*~

Zoey sighs as she rolls in the bed. Everything that happened in Smallville over the past week had been weighing on her mind. Lips press against her shoulder. An arm settles on her waist. “In the past week, my godfather was framed for attempted murder by the sheriff, Uncle Max is convinced that I’m an alcoholic, and I learned that my mom…I learned that she would have survived the accident if she hadn’t taken a massive amount of cocaine that night,” Zoey softly says. She blinks back the tears. “Neither of them would have been in the car in the first place if it wasn’t because of me.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything. He just tightly embraces her. He understood the guilt she was feeling. The guilt of being responsible for your parents death. Being afraid of bats drove his parents out into the alley that night. Having a nightmare at a slumber party drove her parents to killed by a drunk driver. Even if Shannon had been high, it didn’t do anything to take away the guilt that he knew Zoey was feeling in that moment. He doesn’t say anything. He holds her; listening to the sobs she was trying to keep buried.

See the money wanna stay, for your meal Get another piece of pie, for your wife Everybody wanna know, how it feel Everybody wanna see, what it’s like Baby wanna be a queen, well alright We all deserve the finer things, in this life

So working on a little job, in the night It’s forty dollars an hour when I, see the light The boss say you got a little time, and oh my He’ll be working in a small box, till he die Me, I gotta be free, all my life I want a little cream cheese, in my pie

Alright…

Yeah! I’ll step back, while you go dance The greenback boogie Motherfucking boogie

[meanwhileinoz]

911 Operators Share Ridiculously Stupid Calls Ever Received That Are Too Funny To Read

911 is a guarantee of safety

You have an emergency, you call 911 and a police officer will be there soon. It means that the moment you hit those three digits on your phone and call, you will be safe. To avoid people thinking that they can handle it themselves, we often tell ourselves that 911 can handle any emergency.

It would seem that we did it too well. A lot of people call the emergency help line for very peculiar and almost dumb reasons. Some are even heartwarming. But either way, just kick back, relax, and read these amazing conversations.

#1

Not an operator, but my boyfriend who called in. He usually worked a late shift, walking home about 2 am. This shift he got off work a few hours late… BF: I’d like to call and report a fire. [We live in a fire prone area and it was the season.] 911: Where is it located sir? BF: On the hillside just East of [City]. 911: Can you be more specific? [Typing away in the background.] BF: Yes, [gives a more detailed location]. Oh god, it’s getting bigger! The whole top of the hill is on fire now! 911: Stay calm sir, we’re sending somebody out. BF: It’s getting bigger! Doesn’t anybody else see this?! It’s lighting up the sky around it…it’s huge! Oh god! Oh…oh, wait… 911: Sir? BF: I am SO sorry…I’m not usually out this time of night, I just got off work late…that’s, that’s the sun… 911: … BF: I am so, so sorry for wasting your time, there is no fire, that’s just the sun rising. Never mind. I’m really embarrassed… 911: That’s fine, Sir. I will cancel the call, thank you for calling.

LunarBerries

#2

Had another woman call saying her cat was stuck in a tree. I just knew she wanted the fire department to come save the cat, so I got my “that’s only in movies/TV” speech ready. Then she said “…so my husband climbed up to get the cat and now he’s stuck too.”

arjayim

#3

A quite pregnant (don’t remember exactly how far along, but definitely past 30 weeks) woman calls to say that her doctor told her to refrain from having sex for the rest of the pregnancy and she didn’t understand why. I looked at her file, and saw she was having pre-term contractions, so I explained that sexual activity can cause contractions, so it was safer to abstain so the baby could stay inside as long as possible. She tearfully exclaims, “But how will I feed the baby?!?” Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, could you repeat that?” Patient: “How will I feed the baby if I can’t have sex?!?” The patient was convinced that her baby was living off of her boyfriend’s semen, and that it would starve if they stopped having sex. I explained about the umbilical cord, etc. but she refused to believe me until I asked her about single moms, lesbian moms, etc. and asked how she though their babies fed and grew. After a moment of silence, she thanked me, and started to hang up the phone, but not before I heard her screaming her boyfriends name. That man had a good thing going for a while there. I honestly wasn’t sure if I felt more sorry for him, or a baby growing up in that household.

nursejacqueline

Just after I got cut loose from training, I received a priority one (meaning immediate response) animal ordinance call. Usually, this call is reserved for animals in traffic or vicious animals, where there is the potential for immediate threat to life. The reporting party was a parent attending a school function. Caller advised there was a raccoon loose in the school. I dispatched two officers to the call and they made it on scene. The officer then broadcasts the “suspect” description via radio. “Suspect is small, fast, and wearing a bandit mask. May have robbed a couple of trash cans. We lost him in a foot pursuit.”

infinibelle

One woman called because she thought her house was being shot at. Turns out she forgot about her eggs boiling on the stove and they exploded. I wanted to give her a hug though, she was just a little old lady.

mayaseye

A woman dialled 999 to say there were men in her house trying to take her away. The men in question were police officers who had come to arrest her

MrBarwell

One guy called FRANTICALLY saying that he saw the dead body of a young woman, early 20s, wearing nothing but shorts. He gave a detailed description, hair color, skin color, body position, the whole bit and said she was by the side of the interstate (in the middle of an affluent suburban area at rush hour) so we figured this had to be a really fresh crime scene. We started scrambling together officers to get there ASAP, a big hassle considering it’s rush hour and they’re all dealing with accidents and stuff like that. On top of that, we can’t say what the issue is on the radio is because we have too many busibodies who monitor police radio, then call us to try to get juicy details, or othewise meddle. So we have to get these officers to their cars to read the computer, leaving other issues, etc. And these are suburban cops in the Midwest, a murder is a damn big deal. The guy calls back a few minutes later. “Uh, I checked again, it’s a dead deer.” Peeved, I announce on the radio that the trip is cancelled, “it was a deer”. An officer sarcastically calls back: “With shorts on?”

fludru

The best story I have is a guy who called about a bobcat in front of the library. He called up out of breath and said there was a wild cat intimidating people so they could not enter or exit the building. I was fairly close so I started to run over. I asked if anyone was injured and he said no. I was expecting a group of people held up at the entrance by a huge cat hissing at everyone. I told him to keep away from it and stay on the line. When I got there I found a tabby cat perched on a bench. I verified the caller and the cat he called about. I went over to the cat with him and started pet him, he rolled over and let me scratch his belly. The guy was shocked and said “oh, someone has domesticated it.”

miraclerandy

“911, what is the address of the emergency?” “I need an ambulance” “What’s going on?” “I just, I need an ambulance” “Can you tell me why?” “My dick is stuck in the wall OKAY?!” “Please stay on the line for Fire/Rescue”

AweBeyCon

Me: 911, where do you need assistance? Drunk guy: At the convenient store. This guy won’t sell me beer. Me: Ok, why not? Drunk guy: I can’t show him my ID because I am not 21. Me: Without an ID the clerk can not sell to you, especially if you are under age. Drunk Guy: But other clerks let me bribe them before. I told him that and he still won’t take my bribe and sell to me. Make him take the bribe! Me: We won’t force the clerk to accept your bribe. And definitely won’t let him sell to a minor. Do you want to wait there and I can have an officer come talk to you in person? Drunk Guy: Yea, I will sit outside and wait for you.

Venethos

Not a 911 operator, but I do work for a kids helpline. I recently got a call from a panicked 11-year-old boy who thought he had locked himself in a wardrobe while home alone. I was on the phone with him for a while before I suggested sliding the door instead of pushing it out like you would when entering or exiting a room. I heard a few sniffles on the other end of the line and then a quiet “Oh yeah, I forgot the door went like that.”

labyrinthiner

Paramedic here, Once we had a young woman call 911 around 2am saying that her legs were turning blue. Turns out she had worn a new pair of jeans to the club that night.

Buzkill

One of my personal favorites was someone who called and it went like this: “I know this is not an emergency, but there is a person in a giant monkey suit running down the road humping all the fire hydrants” I had to hold back my laughing as best I could – turns out he was right, when I sent the police there there was a kid in a monkey costume humping every hydrant he came across.

Beer_

I’m not a dispatcher, but back in my EMS days I was dispatched on a call of a child being poisoned. Upon our arrival we find a 14 year old male and his mother. The mother was insisting we take them to the hospital so he could have his stomach pumped because he had swallowed chewing gum. The child was looking at us as if to say, “I’m sorry my mother is crazy.” One year later, same address, same family, called for poisoning. Upon arrival we find the same kid and mother. The mother wanted to be taken to the hospital because the kid had admitted to his mother that he had taken a hit of marijuana when he was visiting friends the week before. The kid had the same look on his face.

EdwardStarsmith

Guy who called to swear out a complaint against his roommate because the guy stole his heroin. Yes, they both got a ride.

legotech

Long story short. Helped a little girl do her math homework.

Foreversingleandsad

My uncle was a dispatcher in a suburb of Minneapolis/St.Paul, and would tell me stories whenever I saw him. My favorite goes like this: Uncle: 911, what’s your emergency? Caller: Yes, I’d like to report two suspicious vehicles passing something back and forth in Potawatomi park. Uncle: Ok, we’ll send an officer out to assess. Uncle: Dispatch to car 45, two suspicious vehicles in Potawatomi park, passing items back and forth. Car 45: Uhhh…car 45 to dispatch, that’s me and Officer Somethingerother, passing Cheetos… Uncle: 10-4

Igoe_yougo

One woman called saying that every time she went outside the frogs said mmm pussy.

mayaseye

One time, some guy called 911 because he had multiple women in his bed that he didn’t know and who refused to leave.

HeyDep

“911, what’s your emergency?” “THERE IS A GODDAMN ROCK ON MY LAWN. A ROCK.” “Um… A rock?” “DID YOU NOT F*CKING HEAR ME? THERE IS A ROCK ON MY LAWN. SOMEONE DID THIS ON PURPOSE. A GODDAMN ROCK IN MY LAWN. I HAD TO DRIVE AROUND IT ON MY LAWNMOWER. A GODDAMN ROCK.” “What’s your address?” “You’re f*cking 911 and you don’t know my goddamn address? What the f*ck are my taxes paying you for? F*cking useless. Goddamn rock.” “Sir, what is your address?” “LOOK AT ME ON GOOGLE EARTH YOU CAN SEE ME BECAUSE THERES A GODDAMN ROCK IN MY LAWN!” At this point, the map finally correlated with his location and he was in the next county. I let them deal with it. I don’t know how it turned out.

reineluxe

I’ve had someone call 911 to wish me a merry xmas when I was working at 3am on on Christmas Morning.

Stepside79

A friend who used to be a police operator once told me she had a hysterical call from a Chinese lady, who was unintelligible but clearly distressed. They sent an officer round, apparently she’d found a hedgehog in her garden and had no f*cking clue what it was – assumed it was an alien or something and freaked out.

blinky84

Me: “911. What is the address of your emergency?” Caller: “Turtles…in Georgia” M: “Yes, ma’am. Turtles are an indigenous species to the state of Georgia.” C: “Really?” M: “Yes, ma’am.” C: “Huh. Well what do you do when there is one in your yard?” M: “Leave it alone.” C: “It’s driving my dogs crazy!” M: “Is the turtle endangering your dogs?” C: “No.” M: “Are the dogs endangering the turtle?” C: “No. They’re on the other side of the fence.” M: “Well then just leave the turtle alone and he’ll go along on his merry turtle way.” C: “Ok. I guess so.”

IcebergSlimD

Caller: A deer just swam across the river behind my house. Me: Okay? Caller: Well I am worried it might be cold. Me:…….Well there is nothing we can do about a deer being cold. Didn’t it run off after swinning the river? Caller: Yes. Me: Well ma’am it’s a wild animal and I’d guess it’s going to be fine. Caller: ok

NodePoker

“I want to report an attempt murder. I asked them not to put mushrooms on my pizza, as I’m allergic and they forgot, so it’s attempted murder”

EccentricCock

Someone called 911 about a “machine gun mounted on a car”. It was the Google maps car…

CoonCreek

6:30 Christmas morning. 9-1-1 goes off. “9-1-1. what’s your emergency?” Breathless, panicky voice “How do I get the cranberry sauce out of the can without it coming out in chunks?” “Open the other end and slide it out on a plate.” “OH! THANK YOU! You are brilliant!” I wasn’t considered so brilliant once I had to dispatch an officer over there to educate her on proper 9-1-1 usage. Merry Christmas, here’s your citation. source: 4 years as 9-1-1 dispatcher/supervisor in rural Alaska

malloryparker

Got a call from a man that someone vandalized his snowman.

jwagg82

My mom is a 911 operator, she gets some insanely stupid calls. I remember a few years ago, there was a huge pileup involving several cars and fatalities. Clearly it caused miles of traffic. A woman called 911, insisting that she get escorted out of the traffic by a trooper, because she “had to get home”, and it was “ridiculous that she should be stuck like that”. Like, people are dead, lady, sorry you’re not gonna make it home for Jeopardy.

ddeevv

Also had one a couple of years ago where a dad called to ask for an ambulance because his 17 yr old daughter had a candle stuck up her anus. He tried to explain that she said she had gotten out of the shower and slipped and fell “butthole first” onto the candle… Medics said they found KY jelly with the candle so I think we all know what was going on there.

flipit2mute

Entitled rich brat demanding an officer drive her back home because she spent her travel money partying; she felt since her father was a well-known surgeon, and a “higher taxpayer” she should get a break and get a ride. I told her no and hung up on her.

milkcustard

Guy calling to argue that his crystal meth is legal because he made it with store-brought products with his own hard-earned money.

milkcustard

Caller: My boyfriend took my dog! Me: And why’d he do that? Caller: Because he’s an asshole! Me: No, I mean what possessed him to take the animal? Caller: Cause he’s a f*cker! Me: …… Why does he have the dog… Caller: Cause he’s a piece of shit! Me: ……… Alright, I’ll send an officer out to talk to you.

Rodge_Von_Dicksonbut

Had a guy call asking if it was legal to shoot his neighbor because his hedges were hanging over his property and he considered it tresspassing.

Reddit

I had someone a few months ago call 911 to ask if a tablespoon was the big spoon or the little one.

Dues1987

Got a call from a guy wanting the police to come to his address because the guy he sold a bag of weed to wouldn’t pay him Gave me his name, address and date of birth and the name, address and phone number of the other guy as well. Both got a visit from unit soon afterwards.

Cameron McManus

I have been in the 911 biz for over 22 years. If a caller starts the call with “I swear I’m not crazy” then you need to buckle up for some insanity. A guy started a call with those words after escaping from his apartment and running to the closest 7-11. He swore that his roommates were turning into giant crabs. The was going to show the officers that they were currently in giant cocoons transforming. As you might expect he was tripping balls.

erczilla

Had a drunk person call to report he was being harassed. Truth was….. He was being arrested by our officers for throwing pizza at people. All I heard in the background was one of my officers saying to him “that better not be our dispatcher on the phone” followed by some muffled talking and my officer taking the phone and saying “he will be taking a ride with us now” and hung up.

tkokilroy

Me: 911, Whats your emergency? Lady: My smoke detector is going off, and I think there is a HAZMAT GOING ON! Me: Is there fire or smoke in your home? Lady: No Me: Is it chirping? Maybe it’s a low battery sound? Lady: No! Me: Did you damage the detector at all? Lady: NO!!! I took it off the ceiling, unplugged the hard wires and took out the battery….It’s still alarming! Me: Ma’am how is that possible? You are telling me that it it’s alarming with no power source…? And what were you mentioning about a Hazmat? Lady: UGH!!!! THE NUCLEAR POWER SOURCE, DO TO MERCURY INJECTION FROM THE POWER PLANT IN THIS DETECTOR, IS MAKING THIS THING GO OFF! IT WONT STOP! HEAR! HAVE A LISTEN! Me: ….(hears no sound but her heavy breathing)…. Lady: I WANT TO TALK TO THE KING NUCLEAR EMPORER HOMER SIMPSON OF SPRINGFIELD. Me: …(Holds mic away from face laughs uncontrollably)… Lady: HELLO!? SIR!? ARE YOU LISTENING?!?! Me: Yes ma’am, total emergency, the Fire Department is on the way to help assist you… Night shift at 911 always got the best calls.

WDer

Caller: I’ve been poisoned. Me: Ok, we’re sending an ambulance. Tell me what happened. Caller: I’ve overdosed Me: What did you take? Caller: Pot Me: Marijuana? Caller: Yes. I’m dying. Please hurry. Turns out. She was just super high.

throwitallawayyy2016

http://ift.tt/2eGyCYR