#it's sickening how long it took to find all the footage and make this from only trailers/promos lol

[charcubed]

Challengers Throuple – "I Don't Wanna Talk, I Just Wanna Dance"

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[bbymunsonx]

The Last Time (Ted's Version)

Chapter Four

chapter warnings: language, implied sexual content, sexual tension hehe

word count: 2.4k

After embarrassingly crying to Ted about my sex life, I quickly had to run back to my flat before I embarrassed myself even more. 

When I get back to my flat, I took out my laptop and started to Google all the players on the team. Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent, Sam Obisanya. I even decided to Google Ted, purely out of curiosity. I thought I'd get a bit more caught up before our first official day of work. 

Jamie's results were what I expected. I'm definitely gonna have to work on his branding, I thought to myself.

Roy's results were pretty clean. Most of the articles just talked about how he should start to think about retiring because of his age and his supposed knee problem. 

Sam's results were about how he came to England from Nigeria to play for AFC Richmond. In every interview he does, he mostly just talks about how much he misses home. 

Ted's results made my heart drop. There were some positive things about him, but most of the things that people were saying about him online were sickening. 

Ted Lasso: Richmond's New Hillbilly Coach. 

One of the links had a video of Ted with the Wichita State Football Team. It looked like the team was in the locker room after winning a game, where they were all dancing with Ted. The football players all honestly looked like they adored that man. One of the football players in question, Julian Silva, my lovely ex-boyfriend. 

After getting to know Ted better, seeing footage of him and Julian together is enough to make my stomach churn. They are complete polar opposites. Knowing Ted, he was probably way too kind to him. A lot kinder than he deserved. 

***

The next day was our first "official" day at AFC Richmond. Naturally, Ted welcomed me at my front door with a coffee in one hand and a box of fresh made biscuits in the other. 

"What's this?" I asked while taking the box. 

"Just a little something. You gotta let me know how they are before I give 'em to the boss. Just take a little nibble." Ted eagerly waited for me to take a bite. 

"Holy shit-" I said with a mouth full of biscuits, "This is delightful. How the hell do you know how  to make this shit?"

"Google... and baking shows, of course." Ted answered. 

"The Great British Bake Off baby," Coach Beard chipped in. 

"I'm telling you, you two become more and more interesting by the day." 

When we arrived at the stadium, we all went our separate ways. Ted went to find Rebecca to give her his homemade biscuits, Coach Beard went out on the pitch, and I found my way down to my office. 

Being logged onto Richmond's socials and keeping an eye on all the comments, especially the comments revolving around Ted, was quite exhausting already. People on the internet could be so cruel. After moderating their socials for a bit, I found a livestream from Richmond's official page that they were doing a press conference, right now.

Shit, Ted probably had no idea they were dong this, I thought to myself. After reading the comments, it seemed like probably one out of ten people had something nice to say. Then it went down to zero after Ted had accidentally spit on the entire audience of journalists. Today was going to be a long day. 

After closing my laptop for a quick breather, someone knocked on my door. "Anyone in here?"

"Yeah, come on in." I responded. In came a girl that I thought looked vaguely familiar. She looked around my age, maybe a little bit older than me. Where have I seen her before?

"Hello! I just wanted to come and meet you in person! I'm Keeley Jones!" She came running up to me and giving me a hug. 

"Hi! I'm Lacy." I hugged her back, why not?

"I know! God, you're fucking fit." She took a step back and really stared at me for a second. 

"I'm not really sure what that means, but thanks!" I awkwardly laughed. "So what do you do around here?"

"I'm kinda famous for being almost famous, if that makes sense. I was with Jamie Tartt for a little, but we actually broke up a few days ago. I do a lot of PR work for the team, too, yeah?"

"Oh shit," I exhaled. Now I know where I know her. She came up when I was looking up Jamie earlier. Thank God I'm not a homewrecker. 

"But I'm not taking your job or anything. You're actually way more qualified than me." Keeley laughed. "We'll be working together, if that's alright. I do more of the 'getting them sponsorships' and shit and you're more of their public image of the players and the overall club. I have a feeling we're gonna be great friends, Lace." Keeley smiled.

"Me too, Keeley." I smiled back. 

***

"Lacy, come in here a second, would ya?" Ted called from his desk to mine. I'd been splitting my time evenly between being on the pitch with the coaches and the players and being in my office. I wanted to make sure I knew what they were doing, but I also wanted to make sure I was doing my job and moderating their socials. 

"Yes, Coach?" I said with my voice slightly raised and my lashes fluttered, obviously being facetious. Why not have some fun and spice up the day?  I decided to get comfortable and sit atop of his desk. 

After clearing his throat, visibly affected by my comment, Ted managed to say, "I wanna throw a birthday party for Sam. He's just feeling a bit homesick at the moment and he needs to know that we're on his side. So are you free tonight?"

"What makes you think I'd literally be doing anything else?" I raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, I didn't know if you had plans with a certain Mr. Ja-," Ted laughed as I cut him off. 

"No, Ted. I will be there."

"Great, see you later," Ted got up and touched my arm before leaving the office, causing my heart to almost fall out of ass as I looked over at Coach Beard, who of course, had his head in a book and didn't witness any of what happened. Ted always touches people in their arms when he talks to them. That's just his thing. 

"Are you gonna go to the party tonight, Beardo?" I asked. 

"Beardo?" I finally got him to put the book down.

"Is that alright?" I questioned. Maybe Ted touching my arm is causing me to act all weird. 

Beard took a second to think before responding with, "I'll allow it." He then got up and left the office, leaving me just sitting there on Ted's desk, all alone.

***

 After going back to my flat and getting ready for the party, I settled on a little cocktail dress that Rebecca put in my closet. 

Ted Lasso: You ready, spaghetti?

Lacy Watson: As ready as I'm gonna be.

Coach Beard: Can I bring a girl I met today?

Lacy Watson: When did you meet a girl? You were at work all day?

Ted Lasso: We're just gonna keep tonight a work casual thing. If she's like any of your other gals, we don't wanna scare Sam. Maybe next time, Bud. 

Coach Beard disliked " We're just gonna keep tonight a work casual thing. If she's like any of your other gals, we don't wanna scare Sam. Maybe next time, Bud."

Rhythmic knocks rapped against my door. "Come in!" I yelled down. A few sets of footsteps came up my stairs when suddenly Ted and Coach Beard rounded the corner into my living room. A part of me panicked realizing this was their first time in my flat. 

"Look at you!" Ted called out to me, causing me to roll my eyes. 

"Let's just go." I groaned. 

I wore my sneakers during the walk so I wasn't suffering in my heals. When we arrived at the stadium, Ted had sent Coach Beard in while he helped me change into my heals that I brought in my bag. Ted, being the gentleman he is, knelt to the ground to help give me some balance. 

"Are you nervous about seeing Jamie? You didn't really see him today at training." Ted questioned, while letting me hold onto his shoulders while putting on my heals. 

"I'm not that bothered by it. Either way, tonight is all about making Sam feel at home. I have to put my stupid boy drama aside for the night."

"Panda?" Ted looked up at me. There was just something about this man knelt before me, looking up at me, that made my stomach do acrobatics. 

"I think we should choose a different word. There's just something about a grown man saying the word panda that's just a little funny," I joked to change the subject. 

"Whatever you want." Ted looked down and smirked. Just as he was about to say something else, Coach Beard came running outside, huffing all out of breath. 

"There you guys are! I thought you got lost!" He exclaimed. 

"You're such a smart-ass." I laughed. Ted got off his knees and escorted Coach Beard and I into the stadium. 

Football players were standing all throughout the locker room with drinks in their hand, deep in conversation. The locker room was filled with balloons, streamers, and miscellaneous birthday decorations. "Who did this?" I questioned. 

"Oh, that would be me." Nate came out of nowhere. 

 "You did an awesome job, Nate-dawg. It looks great." Ted slapped Nate on the back, to which he smiled. 

"Yeah, this looks awesome, Nate." I smiled at him. "If you'll excuse me, real quick. I'm gonna go find Sam."

After looking around the locker room, I found Sam deep in conversation with Colin Hughes. "Hi, Sam! Happy birthday!" I went to shake his hand since I didn't formally meet him yet. He pushed my hand away and gave me a hug. 

"Thank you, Ms. Watson! This is such an amazing surprise. It's been really hard being away from my family, so thank you for helping me feel less alone."

"Of course, Sam. And please, I'm only four years older than you. Please just call me Lacy."

"Yes, Lacy." Sam smiled back. 

"Enjoy the party." I gave Sam a side hug as he continued his conversation with Colin. As I went throughout the locker room, looking to see if Keeley had showed up, I saw the last person I wanted to see, Jamie Tartt. 

"Hi, Jamie." I decided to be civil, especially if I have to work with him. 

"Hiya, Lacy. Nice party." He took a sip of his drink, probably his second or third drink of the night. 

"Hm." I just nodded in response, not really knowing what to say. 

"Let's get you a drink." Jamie took my hand to get me a drink. I didn't really feel like a drink tonight, especially because I wanted to get some work done when I got back to my flat. 

"That's alright, Jamie. I don't really want to." I looked to my left and saw Ted staring daggers at Jamie. He was on the complete other side of the locker room, so he couldn't even possibly hear what we were saying. 

"Cmon, just one drink. For old times sake," Jamie winked at me. 

"How can that possibly be for old times sake, that was three days ago." Sometimes Jamie genuinely confused the fuck out of me. 

"Just have one drink with me and I'll leave ya alone, yeah? Let's just be civil." Jamie continued to persuade. 

As soon as I saw Ted start to walk over to us, I heard a deep voice come from behind me, "She's not having the fucking drink, so get the fuck out of here." Roy Kent. 

"No one's talking to you, Grandpa." Jamie looked behind me and stared down Roy. 

"Is there an issue going on here, fellas?" Ted finally made his way over, standing directly next to me. 

"No one's talking to you, wanker. I'm trying to give Lacy an opportunity with a real man, yeah?" Jamie laughed to himself. 

"I think you've had too much to drink tonight, Jamie. How about you just go home before we all do something we regret." Ted sternly said to him. If looks could kill, Jamie would be dead on the floor. 

"This party fucking blows anyway." Jamie threw his drink on the floor and walked out. Tears started to form in my eyes. I really wanted to be civil with Jamie, but he may be making that impossible. 

"Come here," Ted took my arm and I went with him but stopping him before we got too far. 

"Wait a second," I pulled away for a moment to turn around to Roy, "Thank you, Roy." I gave him a tiny hug, to which he grunted and walked away. I was gonna break through him. I could feel it. 

I ran back up to Ted as he was talking to Beard, "I'm just gonna take her home. You've got it from here?" 

Coach Beard nodded. 

***

It was a very silent walk back home with neither one of us knowing exactly what to say. 

Ted broke the silence first, "Do you want me to say something to him tomorrow?"

"No, Ted. It's alright. He was drunk. I don't think he's a bad guy, just stupid." I laughed a little, to which Ted nodded. 

"Alright, then. Just give me the word and he'll be off my team." Ted responded sternly. No hint of a joke behind his tone. I just nodded. 

When we made it back to the flats, Ted stopped at the foyer and as always, asked if I wanted to join him inside for a drink. 

"I think I'm gonna call it a night. I gotta catch up on all our socials and I don't even think I have the energy to do that." 

"Well, don't work too hard," Ted pointed a finger at me. 

"I make no promises. I gotta prove to the boss lady that I'm worth keeping around."

"Touche. Well, have a good night, Lacy Loo."

"Goodnight, Teddy."

He walked into his flat the same time I walked into mine. After the door shut, my back pressed against the door as I felt it difficult to catch my breath. All I could feel were the butterflies in my stomach, trying to pull me into his flat. Though it's only been three days, I had to stop lying to myself. I wasn't just being flirty for the hell of it. I didn't reject Jamie Tartt because he's not a good looking guy. 

No. I was falling for Ted Lasso. 

Fuck. 

authors note: these next few chapters are gonna get sooooo good I love writing jealous Ted and I wanna keep writing more of him hehe I cannot wait to write the gala ep I'll leave it up to your imagination for now. also!! lacy and roy's friendship is gonna be the end of me I swear <3 im gonna try to have a chapter out every other day :)

taglist: @nerdgirljen

[softquietsteadylove]

Hi can I request 2 parts for Spy/Special Force AU?

I have been craving for some angst and drama, so I am really sorry for this.

So for the 1st part. We always see Gil in dangerous situation but now...what about Thena was caught. Gil didn't know that it was Thena not until they presented her to him. He had to watch her getting interrogated and tortured and he can't do anything about it because he's undercover. He tried to negotiate with them without getting suspicious, but it didn't work.

"So, what do ya think, new guy?"

"Ask about the arms deal happening at the end of the week."

Gil took the instructions coming through his earpiece silently. "Not a bad place, but do you guys really have the stuff necessary to secure all this square footage?"

He got a couple of looks and tried to remain calm; using 'secure' like that would definitely get him suspected of being an undercover Agent.

"I know a guy with both hands under the table, I mean," Gil shrugged, keeping his arms folded and tight to his sides. He didn't manage to sneak anything in with him weapons wise. His fists were weapon enough.

"Don't worry about it," one of the ones who had been showing him around for the last week shrugged. "We've got more incoming."

Gil nodded. It was as much of a confirmation on the weapons trade off as he was going to get, and he wouldn't risk asking about it further. His brows furrowed as they reached their destination: a control room in the basement with the window smashed out. "We catch something?"

"You could say that." His grin gave Gil a bad feeling.

They turned on the singular light bulb that lit the decrepit little space. There was a small figure in a chair, ziptied to the armrests and legs by the wrists and ankles. They were visibly too tight, drawing blood no matter how still they tried to remain.

Gil's heart stopped.

He tried to stay still. He would know that figure anywhere, as much as he tried not to. The slight frame, the slope of the shoulders and the prominence of the clavicle under the buttoned work shirt. The stockings were torn, probably from getting dragged to and fro. Shoes were probably the first thing taken from them.

He knew it was Thena before they pulled the burlap off her head.

As soon as it was off they punched her square in the jaw, whipping her head around and making the chair screech on the concrete floor. It was just heavy enough not to topple over with her in it.

Gil kept his face as neutral as he could--their lives depended on it. They were watching him, checking to see if they had found the weakness they thought. If they had found their mole. "Where'd you find her?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the worker bees around him snickered as they watched the show.

Gil kept his fists clenched under his armpits, digging his short nails as deep into his skin as he could. His teeth were clenched so tight he could barely see straight.

Thena didn't utter a word as they laid into her, taking every slap and punch with little more than a grunt or a burst of air. She kept her eyes shut as they hauled her head up by her hair, still pulled back into a ponytail.

They hadn't gotten her at home, she was still dressed for work, whether they got her coming in or going home. Gil felt sickened to wonder how long they'd had her captive.

"We got a tip that there was a real pretty blonde hangin' around," the one doing the beating said to Gil, giving Thena's head a shake by her hair. He turned his face into hers, inhaling against her cheek. "Had to go and find 'er for myself."

"Don't move a muscle, Agent. Stay on target."

Those fuckers. The brass knew Thena had been captured and were still ordering him not to move? How far were they planning on letting this go? How long had they been listening to Thena get hurt?

Eyes were still on Gil in the room, monitoring how far they could push him. He still hadn't let a crack show, yet. "Y'know, someone let us know that she was with the Fed."

Of course someone had tipped them off. How else would they have been able to get the drop on the Goddess of War?

"Y'know what they say, big guy," another one slapped him on the shoulder before strolling into the semi-connected interrogation room. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

Gil wiggled his fingers against his palm, feeling the blood he'd drawn. He was nearing his limit. Thena pried her least swollen eye open and looked at him, managing just a little twitch of her lips. No one else would be able to recognise it as a smile--they'd sooner assume it was a flinch.

But Gil could always tell.

Thena shut her eyes again as they wrenched her head back, exposing the length of her neck.

"She is a pretty thing, huh?" the new one looked back at Gil, trailing a finger along her throat.

"Agent, do not move. I repeat: stand. Down."

Gil watched the hand trail down her neck to her collarbone, just barely peeking out from her blouse. He pulled out a knife, cutting off one button, then another.

The two in the room grinned at each other as the third button popped off, exposing just the hint of a white bra with floral lace. "Should we see how pretty?"

If the window weren't shattered before, it certainly would be now. Gil grabbed the head of the first one, slamming it down on the table so hard it only took the one hit to incapacitate him.

The other one reached into the back of his jeans, "fuckin' mole-!"

Gil turned his shoulder out to him, ramming him against the wall with his shoulder driven directly into his solar plexus. The wind left him and he slumped down the wall. For good measure, Gil kicked his teeth in.

"Hey, what the fuck-"

Gilgamesh was by far the strongest on the special forces team--probably one of the strongest agents in the field, if not the strongest. He grabbed the creepy one by the hand, twisting it all the way around to pop it off the wrist.

The creep screamed and howled in pain.

The one who had been doing the beating held up his hands, backing away from Thena on the chair, who was swaying faintly in her attempt to remain conscious.

"Agent! Stand down, this is a direct order!"

Gil tore the earpiece and its connected mic out of his ear and crushed it under his foot. He kept his eyes on the man with Thena's blood on his knuckles.

"H-Hey, big guy," the idiot was at least smart enough to try and barter his way to safety. "Look, we both know you're not gonna kill me-"

"Says who?"

The smaller of the two men shrank a little. Maybe his life wasn't as insured as he thought it was. "O-Okay!--okay, look, I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry, man! You want info?! I'll tell you--I'll tell you everything! Who tipped us off, how we scoped out your headquarters--everything!"

Gil grasped the bastard by his shirt, slamming him up against the wall, black in the eyes. "You've got a lot of nerve bartering with me after what you did to her-"

"Gil."

The beater hit the floor like a sack of bricks.

Gil moved in front of Thena, lifting her chin as gently as he could. She'd have one hell of a black eye, and her naturally sharp cheekbones were split and swollen. "Hey."

Thena blinked her good eye, lifting her head shakily as Gil cut open the zipties slicing her wrists and ankles incrementally.

"Backup better be on the fucking way," Gil growled as he get her freed. Her body naturally folded in on itself in its injured and vulnerable state. Gil shirked off his jacket, pulling it around her and even zipping it up over her exposed chest. "Or those old fucks are next."

The beater was trying to crawl to safety.

Gil slammed his heel down on his back.

The beater threw up anything that was in his stomach.

Gil leaned down, pulling his head up by the hair, as he had done with Thena mere minutes ago. "You're gonna tell us everything."

He nodded.

"You're gonna cooperate with every agent you see."

He nodded again, more vigorously.

Gil dropped him. If they did get some valuable information out of him it would be the only thing saving his job after this stunt. He turned, catching the creep trying to struggle to his feet. "And you."

Thena didn't even blink as Gil grabbed his shoulder, then his jaw, and twisted. She watched as the man's lifeless body fell to the ground. She looked up at Gil, "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."

Gil said nothing. He had no remorse for someone like that. He nudged his body out of the way, picking Thena up and sitting down in the chair for himself with her in his arms.

The sounds of their fellow agents storming the building started at the top of the building and travelled through its open, gutted remains. They would be with them soon enough.

Gil sat and waited. He would be lucky to be suspended and on probation. Much more likely, they would have internal affairs investigate him for his disobedience. Worst case scenario, they could find him in breach of protocol and fire him.

Thena shuddered in his arms.

He would accept any punishment they gave him--gladly. He turned his head, pressing his lips to her temple in the slim window of being alone with her.

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

You made such a great post the other day about a certain lonely blog on here.

They’ve been here for a long time (but have changed mods) and have changed mods but these two current mods. I have bones to pick with.

One mod I really really disliked for a long time and always felt they were extremely holier than thou and hell bent on being a “supporter of all women and all things feminism” and then at the same time, allow bashing and comments on the actual Celeb their blog was made about. They’ve since added disclaimers claiming they aren’t only a him blog and they’ll discuss all things. And this mod in particular isn’t a big fan of him anymore because of what she’s learned about him. She’s participated in the nasty comments about some of his exes (which of course she and the other mod claim they have outgrown and no longer treat these women with disdain because they have learned), yet for some reason seems to love being a supporter of this current nobody from southern Europe.

Of course, if anyone calls her out, she will say she’s not a supporter she just doesn’t want to waste her time hating on someone and she doesn’t care about that nobody anyway. Right. You don’t care about her but your blog and your two minion blogs are now dedicated to talking about her nunsense 24/7. Interesting how you basically forget about the man who’s the reason your blog got traffic in the first place. 🙄

Truly bizarre. It’s funny, holier than thou mod has always been about holding the celebrity man accountable for everything he’s done or hasn’t done, and ok to gossip and talk about his personal life in ways that I felt was disrespectful and crossing the line. But she refuses to shame the nobody from Europe and I just find that. Interesting.

What really crossed the line for me was when these two mods took it upon themselves to announce a couple’s engagement to prepare their fan base 😂 and when people called them out for this behavior, they doubled down on their high horses and continued to do it. It was quite sickening to me and I still can’t quite understand how these people can feel this okay to violate privacy just because they were given a tip and they felt it was legit. They already knew a good portion of the fandom was upset about this union and lots of impressionable anons were going to be crushed by it - they knew most people hate the European nobody - and yet they continued to talk about it.

Then later on, to try and prove a point against a crazy team PR blog one of the lonely mods posts a pic of doggy daycare footage just to prove they had access or were given this footage before.

I was sincerely shocked. Behavior like this coming from the one blog, whom, for years, had hailed themselves as the original and the most respected.

you are absolutely right to call them out and it’s disappointing because despite not liking one of the mods, I did feel for a while they maintained a reasonably healthy outlook on discussion. But the moment the wedding stuff started - they just did a 180. Became best friends with the same blogs who had literally pit most of the fandom against them just half a year prior.

Crazy how people can flip flop within a blink of an eye.

I love your blog and love seeing voices like yours pop up on here!

makes the question of "who do i trust with what information and to what extent?" a very important one, huh?

thanks for the love, nonnie!

[the-void-writes]

"I think I deserve a kiss for this"

heheheh (possibly Gazali and Frank? or maybe Val and Cyrus...but Will and Dante tho... I can't pick I love them all LOL)

@bloodlessheirbyjacques

@bloodlessheirbyjacques Sorry this took so long 😅 I was looking for the right inspiration. I heard Cyrus and Val were giving you brainrot, so that narrowed down my decision 🤣

Warning: they get a little suggestive at the end. Nothing graphic.

The garden felt as cool and refreshing as Val had hoped for. A heavy cloud of fog surrounded them, silencing the noises of the crew and staff enjoying breakfast inside. Ivy and roses crawled up the dull-colored bricks, out from the stone planters and remaining tiers of a century-old fountain. There was a dark little frog in the pond, and a silent raven in the old pine trees, the only other signs of life in the mist. That is, until a hand colder than the mountain air fell on Val’s neck, making them yelp and trip into the pond.

“Val!”

Cyrus pulled Val out and held them to his chest as they spat out pond water. Soggy weeds and mud clung to Val’s hair and skin, and the morning chill seeped into their damp sweater. That was when they heard the laughter of their crew behind them.

“We got that, right?” Angelo asked through his tears of mirth.

Their cameraman held up their thumb. “Yes, sir!”

“Perfect, that’ll be great for this season’s trailer.”

Val screwed their eyes shut to keep from crying. They were sick of being the subject of every behind-the-scenes joke; compilations of their endless stumbles or slip-ups that were only hilarious to the others because Val was “the nerd.” They didn’t look up at Cyrus, but they could hear the disgust in his voice.

“If you wish to keep filming here, I suggest you delete that footage, and never mock my friend again.”

“Russie, honey—” Angelo made his voice sickeningly sweet. “— it was just a joke.”

“You sicken me, Angelo. You and your affinity for mutilation.”

There was no response from the crew, and Angelo was beet-red. Cyrus rushed Val inside to dry off beside the fireplace in the library. It was an older corner of the manor, one that smelled of old books and years of dust, but Val adored it. Cyrus sat with them on a long embroidered rug and removed all the loose weeds. Servants came and went with towels and warm tea, while Cyrus cleaned the remaining debris from Val’s face.

“Forgive me, darling, I didn’t mean to startle you so badly.”

Val shifted under the pressure of the towel. “It’s okay, Cyrus.”

He sighed and gently wrapped a clean towel around their shoulders. “If I had just spoken up, they wouldn’t have mocked you.”

“Believe me, they’d find a way.” 

Cyrus practically growled. “Wretched humans… No offense.”

They snickered. “I still can’t tell if you do that as a joke.”

“Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

“Until then, I’m calling you ‘Count’ Lockhart.”

They both laughed, but the sounding of arguing outside killed the mood. Val took Cyrus’ hand.

“Are you okay with telling Angelo off like that?”

Cyrus propped his head on his knee, his hand covering his mouth in a half-hearted attempt to silence himself.

“I…” He sighed. “I’m so sick of pretending to like him, especially when he treats you like that. I love you too much, Val.”

Val smiled and sat on his lap, making the young lord’s face turn pink.

“Thank you for everything, Cyrus.”

He smiled back. “Well, as your dashing knight in… anything but armor, it’s my duty to protect you.”

They chuckled. “And how shall I repay you, my dear knight?”

“I’d say I’ve earned a kiss for vanquishing such a dreadful beast from our lives.”

Val leaned closer, lips brushing against Cyrus’ ear. He shivered at the sound of their voice.

“You can get a lot more than a kiss, if you want.”

He smirked and kissed their neck. “Then please, my dearest, let me help you warm up a little faster.”

They locked themselves in the library for the rest of the day, fortunately undisturbed by the staff and crew members. A huge weight had been lifted from Cyrus’ soul after telling off Angelo. He was finally free to love Val as passionately, and as loudly, as they both desired. Now, only one thing stood as a genuine threat to their love, a secret that Cyrus would continue to hide for as long as he could. Val was the kindest blessing the universe had ever given him, and he didn’t want to lose it yet.

[blonde-in-charge]

Wildcard, Chapter Three

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve.

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Random Hydra guy, Sam Wilson

Warnings:  Mentions of blood/violence, brief unwanted touching, Cursing, Fluffy!Bucky, Flirting

Words: 2.6k

The table underneath you was frozen from the amount of stress you had been under. They just kept injecting things into you, hoping to get some kind of reaction from your body. You had stopped feeling the pain of the needle and experiments weeks ago, which just made everything worse for you in the long run. They were getting annoyed with the fact you had stopped reacting to whatever painful serum they had injected you with that day and it resulted in beating to get a reaction from you. You stared up at the cracked ceiling of your concrete room and counted each crack for the millionth time. You kept yourself company in your mind, getting lost in your thoughts to pass the time until your next beating. You shivered at the cold beneath you, the last serum made ice bleed from every one of your pores. You heard the shrill sound of the old iron door open from the side of the room, you didnt turn your head to see whoever came in anymore, they were all the same type of evil. 

“Your wounds have healed very quickly, you are replicating the progress of our last soldier.” said the thick voice. You hated to think someone else had gone through this hell before you had. You wondered if they escaped or died before they moved onto you. 

You felt a burn in the back of your throat, “What's on the menu today doc? Electro-therapy? Waterboarding? New superhuman power that causes injury to one of your minions?” The one fond memory in your head of this place, being your body set itself on fire as well as one of the more hostile minions of Hydra. You smirked fondly at the memory as the hydra doctor worked his way around you observing the healing process. Every wound that opened on your body disappeared within a couple of hours, which is apparently what they wanted. 

“Nothing on the menu today, we are going to start to prepare you for the memory wipe.” Was all the man said and you felt your heart jump into your throat as the man chuckled, “You will do great things for us, American Girl.” You started pulling at your restraints for the first time in weeks, trying to fight your way off of the table once again. The man gave you a sickening chuckle while watching you struggle and you glared at him. He reached up to run a dirty hand slowly up your leg, “Such a pretty girl, such a shame you must-” He ended his sentence abruptly as you lit your body on fire, burning the man's flesh. You grinned at him as your body started to fizzle out. He held his burnt hand to his body and looked at you with rage, “You stupid slut.” 

You continued to grin as he left the room, feeling somewhat accomplished. Your smile slowly faded as you thought back on the memories they would take from you. Y/N Y/L/N, you were a successful accountant in one of the most successful banks in Manhattan. You lived alone, you haven't spoken to your family since you lost your father. Your mom became an alcoholic after his death, the only thing you really regretted was leaving your little sister, Macy, behind. Your job would have already replaced you by now, and people would have stopped looking for you. You stopped fighting for an escape because you knew you had nothing to go back to. 

-

You woke up slowly to the sound of soft snoring, your body tensed up, wondering who was in your bed. Then you realized this wasn't your bed when you looked up into the face of the sleeping soldier. Your body instantly relaxed as you lay your head back on his chest. His right arm was slung over your waist and his metal arm was holding your forearm against his stomach gently. You closed your eyes, replaying the events of the night before in your head. Hydra had come back for you, but for what reason? Then your eyes snapped open and you looked up at Bucky gently shaking him. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at you, obviously confused about why he was holding you. Realization dawned on him and his eyes filled with concern, “You okay?” 

“Y/L/N.” Was all you said to him as you continued to stare into his steel eyes.

“Who is that?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I remembered my last name.” You said softly to him, “I remember my life before I was taken.”

He sat up quickly and looked into your eyes, “You remember now?” You nodded your head at him, unsure whether you should smile or cry. “Y/N, that's amazing.”

You looked away from him and sat back, “Is it?” you replied solemnly.

“Why wouldn't it be?” He tilted his head slightly, trying to read your thoughts. The sound of the door sliding open cut off your response as Steve came in. Steve stopped in the doorway and examined the scene in front of him. You were sitting to the side of Bucky, wearing his shirt with no pants on, with your legs strung across his thighs. Bucky had his metal hand resting against your calf and was leaning back against the headboard behind him. Bucky’s face turned a dark pink as he realized the situation before taking his hand off of your leg. You remained unphased as you looked over at Steve. 

Steve watched you both and cleared his throat, “The safe house is all set up, can you both be ready by 0300?” You nodded at Steve, who glanced back at Bucky before leaving the room.

You both sat in silence for a moment before you crawled over bucky to the other side of the bed, his eyes perked up as he watched you unmoving, “Where are you going?”

“I have to pack my bag, don’t I?” You stood up and raised your arms above your head to stretch out your back. 

Bucky started to climb out of the bed himself before he stood next to you, “I’ll go with you.” You laughed softly and chose to not object to his company. He followed you down the hallway to your room and you stopped in the doorway to survey the damage. Your bed hung off the side of the bed frame as if the mattress had been thrown. The drawers in your dresser were all thrown open and all of the clothes were spread around the room on the floor. You sighed quietly and started picking up articles of clothing. You searched around for the SHIELD duffle bag you had before shoving clothes into it. Bucky’s eyes raked across the room, he walked towards the bed and adjusted it to its correct position before picking up shirts and folding them neatly into the bed. You smiled slightly to yourself as you found a pair of leggings on the ground and started pulling them on and up over your thighs. You struggled slightly and then looked up to see Bucky staring at you. 

He stilled, realizing he had been caught and looked down at the tee shirt in his hands, “Sorry, guess I got distracted.”

You laughed softly and patted him on the arm, “It's okay Buck, it's not like I don't stare at you sometimes.” You were unashamed of the confession. Sometimes while training you'll watch Bucky in the gym and sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll be able to see him lift his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. You would never apologize for that.

Bucky looked utterly confused as you packed the last of your things and zipped up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. He stood up with you and looked down at you. You weren't a short person, you were taller than most girls but still shorter than all of the male avengers so you barely had to crane your neck up at him. His steel blue eyes looked so much lighter in the moment. You turned away from him and started walking towards the door, looking back at him. “Ready?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, go meet with Steve, let me grab my bag.” You nodded at Bucky as you walked into the living area, ignoring the shattered glass on the floor you followed the voices to the kitchen.

“So she just hopped up on this man's shoulders and took him down like that?” Sam snapped his fingers together to get the point across, “Did Natatsha teach her that?”

Tony shook his head and bit the fingernail of his thumb, replaying the 30 second hallway footage from the night before, “Natasha hasn't moved past the basics of fighting with her, we have been focusing on figuring out what she can do power wise.” Steve stood silently with the three, his arms crossed watching the looped video. 

Sam shook his head at the screen, “This chick is a total wildcard.”

You dropped your bag on the ground behind them making them all turn around quickly. You stared at the projection in front of you, you barely recognized yourself. You have never been able to put Sam on his ass in the ring and now you're swinging your body weight around on some random guy? The temperature dropped a couple of degrees in the room as a result of your anxiety. The three men stared at you as you took a step back, you made eye contact with Steve, “Y/L/N.”

Steve looked confused, “What? Who’s name is that?”

“Mine.” You said quietly, “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I had a dream about it. I know my name.”

-

You sat at the table along with Steve and Sam. You were staring off at a wall while shoveling cereal into your mouth. You had only been at the tower for about two weeks now and had a good routine with the two men in front of you. You still didn't have a name. You have been going by kid, kiddo, chick, and rescue. You have been searching your brain for a hint of what your name would be. You tried making up names but none of them suited you the way you wanted it to. You listened to the two men bicker over different work out strategies. You stared off at the wall and thought about how you planned on changing your hair color to maybe platinum blonde. You reached out to grab your glass off the table and grunted when it wouldn't budge. You looked up at the two men staring at you with wide eyes before following their gaze to your hand. The liquid in the glass was frozen solid and the glass stuck to the table in a block. You removed your hand and looked at your palm, which was tinted blue, “Well that's new.” 

Sam tapped on your frozen glass, “Holy shit, Elsa.” You rolled your eyes and rubbed your hands together trying to maintain heat.

Steve watched you, “Has this ever happened before?”

You shook your head and reached out to grab your glass again. Your strength became too much and the frozen glass shattered in your hand. You remained still as Sam hopped up from the table. 

“Jesus fucking christ, kid.” Sam started picking up the larger pieces of glass

“Language.” Steve went into the other room to retrieve a handheld vacuum 

You looked down at your hand and saw little cuts leaking blood in the palm, today just wasn't your day. You stood up from the table and walked over to the sink, running your hand under the water. You were getting really sick of this superpower thing. You have broken so many things so far due to the super strength you can’t control. You sighed as you watched the small cuts on your hand knit themselves back together, you would never get used to that. On the brightside, it didn't hurt. You have not felt the pain of anything you have broken or ran into, the only pain you ever felt was the headache that never went away. You dried your hand off and ran your fingers through your hair.

“Sorry guys… Still getting used to,” You held up your hands, “this.” 

Steve smiled knowingly, “It's okay, kid. I remember when I received my serum, it took a minute to adjust.”  

You gave him a small smile, “Why do you guys keep calling me kid?”

Sam and Steve looked at each other. Sam was the one who spoke first, “You don't really have a name right now.”

“Oh it's Y/N.” You shrugged at the guys and returned to your seat at the table as they stared at you. 

“Did that just come to you?” Steve asked while looking at your seated figure, “It kind of suits you.”

“I think it's my name? It just came to me at the sink and its the only name that doesnt make me want to kill myself.” You smiled as the two men started chuckling at you. 

“I think I will stick to ridiculous nicknames if you don't mind.” Sam said, smiling at you and ruffling your hair. 

-

Tony wasted no time typing your name into the database to pull up a missing persons profile. A photo was pulled up onto the hologram screen and you silently stared at it. It was you, well at least a version of you. You looked so young, your face was effortlessly smooth with a light layer of makeup, and your mouth was pulled in an easy grin. Your hair was pulled back in a sleek low ponytail and you were wearing a white collared shirt with a blazer layered over it. You started into your eyes on the projection, it felt like looking at someone else. 

“You were an accountant? That's boring.” Sam started while eye the photo of you

Tony scanned the photo and then started typing something into the projection. An article pulled up next to the photo, “Y/N Y/L/N, missing for two years, stopped coming into work and her apartment was empty… blah blah blah.” 

“Tony.” Steve warned, coming to put a hand on your shoulder. You looked back at him before shaking off his hand and picking up your bag.

“We should go, right?” You ignored the look Steve gave you before you walked to Bucky’s room, knocking on the mangled door

Bucky met you at the threshold of the door, sensing your discomfort, “You okay, doll?” He raised an eyebrow at you

You raised your own eyebrow, “Doll?” Heat rushed to Bucky's cheeks and you smirked at him, “Grab your bag Buck, it's time to go.” You winked at him and turned away to walk to the elevator door. You rested your nag on the ground as you waited for Steve and Bucky to join you. You leaned back against the wall and sighed loudly, your headache returning.

The two men walked together side by side to meet up with you. Steve pressed the elevator button and debriefed you both about the agents who would escort you to the safe house. You and Bucky both nodded in understanding before stepping onto the elevator. Steve made eye contact with you before the doors completely shut.

“Be safe, kiddo.” You smiled at his words as the doors shut completely.  

[shirophic]

close nights | mm!naegiri fic

here’s the mastermind!naegiri fic i promised  BAAHAHAHA VERY INSPIRED BY SONGS AND THERES A FAMILIAR QUOTE AT THE END IM PRETTY SURE MOST OF YALL HAVE HEARD ngl i feel like it went too quick but honestly idc give me feedback warnings: mentions of death, blood, stabbing, major character deaths

The night was cold, colder than usual.

Kyoko Kirigiri entered the security room, sighing as she sat down in the cool, blue chair. As she scanned her eyes across all the different cameras, quite a few things were on her mind. The 4th trial had ended, with alter ego’s death replaying in the minds of the students. Despair rotted within the students as fear shook them. Alter ego was their only hope, and now they were crushed.

Kirigiri watched as Asahina sobbed in her pillow, Hagakure trying to calm himself down, Togami reading as if nothing happened, Fukawa having a panic attack... Kirigiri bored her eyes into each of the footage from the cameras. Careful trying not to miss anything. Up until she reached a certain CCTV footage caught her eye. 

A boy holding up a sign. The boy was Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Lucky Student. Kirigiri knew better than that, she was the Ultimate Detective for a reason. She knew that talent was a deception, after all, what kind of talent is the “Ultimate Lucky Student”?

Kirigiri knew his real ultimate was despair, a sickening depth of darkness, tearing down others. 

To put it down to simpler words, It was his specialty.

Kirigiri never really understood the reason for despair. Sure, without despair there is no hope, but what was the real meaning behind it? Her ultimate was the Ultimate Detective, aren’t detectives supposed to be fighting against despair in the name of hope? Oh well, she was pretty much forced into this.

Turning her attention back to the green-eyed boy, she noticed there were words on the sign, with a grinning Naegi as he tried to stand tall enough to show the message.

“What an idiot. How did he become the Ultimate Despair again?”

The sign said “Come meet me in our special spot! Wear something pretty!” with a lopsided smiley face.

Once holding it for about 10 more seconds, he ran with the sign. Kirigiri had no idea what he had stored in that deceptive of a mind, but probably something not good.

- - -

As Kirigiri strode over to their “special place” Naegi was setting up something. Something like a room filled with candles and roses.

Rose petals and rose vines adorned the walls and floors. Candles were set up as yellow light shown in the darkness. Vodka and other drinks were lined up on a table, all set up for the night. Sure, it was cheesy, but something he put too much effort in. About a minute passed until Kirigiri arrived, Naegi staggered to fix his tie and suit, waiting at the entrance. As he looked up to meet with her eyes, he paused in amazement.

Kirigiri was wearing a deep purple dress that went just above her ankles with long gloves. Purple heels allowed her to have a little more height against Naegi. And her hair was up in a ponytail, with a purple bow to match. In all words, she was stunning. Naegi stood there agape as he looked at Kirigiri (respectfully of course.)

“Well? Are you just going to stand there looking like a reincarnation of Kuwata’s hair? Or are you going to explain what this is?” smirked Kirigiri, Naegi could have sworn he saw Kirigiri blush.

“Ah yes of course..” Mumbled Naegi as he looked down. “I.. I wanted us to take some time alone with each other, seeing as we get too caught up with the killing game and making sure none of them finds out about… about us..” spoke Naegi, softly.

Kirigiri’s smirk softened, seeing a side she saw many times, but not like this. Was this a confession? Perhaps a prank? She had known the boy for far too long to just not expect this wasn’t one of his other little pranks.

“Well then… In that case, let us take some time with each other.”

With that, Naegi and Kirigiri spent time talking and letting out their struggles. “It’s hard to keep track of what I've said and what I've not! It’s like I have to create a mental script..”

“You.. don’t have a mental script?” “You do!?”

As the night went on, Naegi played some music.

“Oh.. Isn’t this Lacrimosa?” questioned Kirigiri.

“Yea! Sometimes it calms me down when times are rough for me,” exclaimed Naegi.

Kirigiri didn’t respond as she looked like she was lost in thought.

“You’re thinking about your past again, aren’t you?” whispered Naegi.

Kirigiri turned to glance at Naegi, a stoic but slightly saddened expression on her face, “You.. You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle myself perfectly fine, just some… memories.”

Naegi examined Kirigiri for a while before standing up and lending Kirigiri his hand.

“Hey, I’m no doctor or therapist but, maybe a waltz will get it off your mind,” suggested Naegi.

Kirigiri opened her mouth for a bit, but completely drew a blank. Eventually, she surrendered and took Naegi’s hand.

They danced to Lacrimosa until it came upon an end.

Naegi slightly lifted his head to Kirigiri’s lavender eyes, yet couldn’t make out what was in them, sadness? Regret? Anger? He’ll never know.

-

Kirigiri had many thoughts as she slowly danced with Naegi, but she held them off for the time being, as they both wanted time together. And she didn’t want her depressing thoughts to ruin it.

-

Kirigiri and Naegi made eye contact as their thoughts disappeared, only focusing on each other now.

-

Kirigiri suddenly stopped, being aware of her surroundings and what she was doing - dancing. And with whom she was dancing with. “I.. Don’t you think it’s a bit… well, late for this?” Kirigiri questioned, “I wouldn’t want to be caught, god knows what they’re up to…” Naegi paused and chuckled for a bit. “We’re the ones in charge, aren’t we? Where is their god now?” Kirigiri looked down, not saying anything. “Where is their god now?” typical Naegi…” “if you don’t want to do this right now, why not grab a drink with me?” Kirigiri looked at Naegi with slight amusement, “why the niceties now?” but gave in, as her throat ached with thirst.

Naegi laughed quietly, then led Kirigiri to the food and drinks stand. Naegi grabbed a bottle of vodka and poured 

“Hm, don’t you think we’re too young to be drinking?” “We’re 18 now, did you forget? Oh yea, Junko erased your memories as well.”

Kirigiri got lost in thought as she remembered the previous ultimate despair Junko Enoshima was the previous despair. Keyword: previous. Naegi and Enoshima had been partners for quite a while, a feared duo. After “The Tragedy” and after class 78 got converted to a new school for a safe shelter, Enoshima and Naegi were already putting their plan into action. They made sure everything was sealed and “safe” and after about a year, Enoshima forced them into the killing game. Unbeknownst to the other 15 students, Naegi was also in this plan from behind the scenes. And after the first death (Ikusaba), Naegi and Enoshima got into a fight.

- - -

An angry Naegi burst through the doors of the security room, opening to a gleeful-looking Enoshima.

Naegi never had any thoughts on Ikusaba, she was just another pawn in Enoshima’s plan. But she always had to make things complicated for him.

“Enoshima!” Naegi yelled, “How could you just let Ikusaba die like that? Do you know how risky that was.. If they found out-”

“Which they won’t, honestly Naegi you’re too paranoid,” Enoshima said unbothered. “And If they did I’m sure you can just kill them off like a fly.” 

Naegi had a dark look on his face, “And what would be the explanation for that? Tell me.”

“I-”

“Oh! Togami just pissed me off! So I killed him in cold blood, upupupupu!”

Enoshima took a stand, an annoyed look displayed on her face. 

“Look Naegi, if you’re just going to argue about the past, fuck off, it can’t be changed and you know that.”

Naegi quietly chuckled, which turned into full-on laughter.

“AHA- HAHAHAHA, you think I’m just going to accept giving up like that? Well unbeknownst to you, Enoshima, I have a few cards up my sleeve as well..”

Naegi swiftly threw a card at Enoshima’s face, giving a fresh cut to her cheek. Enoshima looked at Naegi in disbelief, gently touching her face.

“H- How dare you,” Enoshima said, bewildered.

Naegi looked at her in amusement, “Was that not entertaining for you enough, Enoshima?”

Enoshima growled, spitting at Naegi. 

“Fuck you,”

“Pay me.”

Naegi quickly moved behind Enoshima, slicing the back of her neck, then putting her up against the wall with a knife under her chin, complimenting her facial features.

“Well now, the shorty finally decided to grow some balls, huh?” Enoshima teased, wincing as the cut behind her neck burned.

“You know damn well I grew some balls ever since I even started our little plan. Have a nice time in hell, Enoshima.” Naegi sneered, looking up at the despair twin.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be saving you a seat.”

Naegi then sliced her neck, pink blood dripping from the knife and onto Naegi’s hand.

Naegi hummed, dropping Enoshima on the floor, disgust filling his senses. “As much as I love bringing people into despair, the stench of blood is disgusting.”

Naegi then washed his hands and ordered monokuma to clean the mess up before heading towards his dorm room, pretending as if nothing happened.

- - -

“Hello? Earth to Kirigiri?” Naegi waved his hand in front of Kirigiri’s face.

Kirigiri was brung back into reality, realization striking her that she was lost in thought. 

“O-oh, Naegi. Sorry, I was lost in thought… again.” Kirigiri said rather embarrassingly, glanced at the shot she was holding, and gulped it down.

“It’s okay Kirigiri,” Naegi spoke as he had doubt in his eyes. He then took a shot, shaking his head.

“Hey Kirigiri, I know I invited you here myself but, there’s another place I wanna show you, care to join me?”

Kirigiri pondered for a minute, should she really go with a murderer who killed the ultimate despair only just to become the ultimate despair himself? Kirigiri sighed, he couldn’t kill her because of her secret anyways. Kirigiri remembered how desperate he was to know the secret.

- - -

(beginning of chapter 3)

Naegi whined as he followed Kirigiri around pleading. 

“Oh Kirigiri pleaaase!” he begged, “Let me know your secret!”

Kirigiri stopped and looked at Naegi, “why do you want to learn my secret so much?”

Naegi scoffed, “Well obviously because you’ve mentioned it once before and never told me! I thought I was your best friend..”

Kirigiri shook her head and continued to walk towards the physics lab, a click in her steps.

- - -

Oh well, it’s not like she has much of a choice.

Kirigiri sighed and followed Naegi, hoping that it would mean something good.

- - -

Naegi led Kirigiri up to the roof of the school, looking back from tie to time with a smile on his face.

Once on the roof, Naegi invited Kirigiri to sit down. The area was outgrown, plants growing everywhere. Fires all around the building, blazes and flames of fire all around the base of the school, the sun setting with a red aura.

Smoke filling Kirigiri's senses, she coughed. “W-Where are we Naegi?” she said as she looked at Naegi. Naegi’s face was lightened with red, orange, and yellow hues as he grinned down upon the world, eyes sparkling with delight.

“We’re.. We’re at the top of the world,” Naegi smiled.

Kirigiri glanced at Naegi with a confused expression but stoic eyes as she looked Naegi up and down.

“Quit the act, why did you bring me here?” Kirigiri demanded.

Naegi turned around, surprised. “Kirigiri, I just wanted to spend time with yo-”

“Stop, I know you’re lying to me. Spit it out.”

Naegi sighed with an annoyed tone and looked Kirigiri directly in the eye.

“I want to know your secret.”

Kirigiri was disappointed, but not surprised. Naegi was an awfully ambitious person and would go to extraordinary heights to get what he wanted, but Kirigiri was awfully stubborn.

“And exactly why should I tell you? For all I know, you could kill me instantly after.” Kirigiri doubted.

“Well for one, you can get out alive!” Naegi laughed, “But you’re not getting away this easily, Kirigiri.”

Kirigiri carefully examined the options she had; A: make a run for it, B: punch him and run, C: tell him and live. She knew with plans A and B he could easily either send monokuma after her or just kill her himself. And with plan C he could also be lying. So in all, it’s a win-lose situation.

Kirigiri sighed and made up her mind.

“I’m not telling you, whether you kill me or not. And besides, even you don’t know the secrets of this school, you need me.”

Naegi examined her closely again, then swiftly took out knives, throwing them all at Kirigiri. Which she dodged them all, even catching one. She threw the knife aside and stepped forward towards Naegi.

“You know you need me, you can’t do anything without me. Give up.”

Naegi growled, “shut up, shut up, shut up!”

With a few knives cutting Kirigiri’s dress and skin, she fell on the ground, backing away from Naegi.

She winced in pain as she looked up at Naegi, her vision blurring as she tried to make out what to do. Naegi stopped in front of her, playing with the knife in his hands before kneeling down in front of her face, lifting her chin up with the knife.

“You know Kirigiri, you’re an intelligent person with lots of room for improvement. I never wanted to come to this conclusion, but if you’re not going to work with me here, we’re going to have a problem.” threatened Naegi.

Kirigiri glared up at Naegi, keeping full eye contact.

“I’m not giving in, no matter what little tricks you have in store.”

Naegi rolled his eyes in annoyance, then putting his knife hard against her neck, “if you oblige, I’ll make your death quick and painless, if you don’t - well then you’re gonna have a fun time suffering.”

Kirigiri stared at Naegi in silence watching as her blood dripped down from her neck and onto everywhere.

Naegi then grew tired of waiting and sliced Kirigiri’s throat leaving her dead blank face the last expression she’ll ever make again.

He then stood up and started walking towards the exit down back to the school, when he heard something.

“I-Ikusaba… she’s alive, an…” Naegi whipped around, anxious, as he urged Kirigiri to continue. “And… she’s o-out for you..”

Naegi was stunned into silence. Ikusaba.. was alive? And she wanted vengeance? Naegi was very confused about this whole proposition. This was Kirigiri’s secret? Naegi then looked at Kirigiri again waiting for more information. But to no avail, Kirigiri’s eyes rid of the light and grew dead.

Naegi then started pacing around, wondering what to do next. Should he try to find Ikusaba? Should he kill Ikusaba once and for all? Should he-

Naegi was then interrupted by a figure in the shadows. He turned around to look who it is, but he couldn’t make out who it was until they stepped into the light.

“Naegi,” a cool monotone voice spoke, “We meet again.”

The figure then stepped into the light - a face known too well.

Mukuro Ikusaba. The other despair twin. Also known as the ultimate soldier. The last time Naegi and Ikusaba met was when they were putting the plan into action and putting the students in the classrooms. After that they barely interacted.

Naegi knew Ikusaba was dangerous. Her talent gave it away, after all. She knew tons of different strategies, and while Enoshima liked to say that the strategies were hers’ - spoiler alert: they were not.

Turning back to reality, Naegi began thinking of different tactics to well ah, slaughter his close friend.

Ikusaba read Naegi like a book, and took out her dagger - to which Naegi replied to taking his own out as well.

“Impressive, I saw what you did with Kirigiri. You’ve worked on your reflexes.” complimented Ikusaba. “But you’re no match for me.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Alright, let’s dance.”

[justasparkwritings]

Peace: Clowns to the West

Previous: Would It Be Enough? 

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse/manipulation, Mentions of rehab, Scandals, Mention of fighting 

Summary: Across the globe, Big Hit grapples with Jungkook’s outburst. 

Listening: peace by Taylor Swift 

This is officially the last chapter of peace. Mirrorball follows. Illicit Affairs precedes.  

Peace Master List

         “We can’t make them break up,” Mr. Cho, a Big Hit lawyer, told Bang and Sejin.

         “Why not?” Bang asked.

         “Both sides signed an agreement.” Ms. Lee, a second lawyer, reminded them.

         “It’s in his contract, they have to remain secret,” Bang responded.

         “They’ve been together almost three years and they’ve never had a slip up,” Mr. Yang said.

         “This isn’t a slip up! This is a total disregard for decorum! For rules! For boundaries!” Bang yelled, voice echoing against the walls of the conference room.

         “Do we know why Jungkook punched him?” Sejin inquired.

         “Not yet,” Mr. Cho answered, eyes moving to Ms. Lee and Mr. Yang, conferring in silent glances.

         “His hand is okay though,” Ms. Lee responded. “We got confirmation.”

         “Good, who is posting it?” Mr. Yang asked.

         “A few tweets have surfaced, no one on Weverse has said anything, and it doesn’t seem to be sold to anyone, yet,” Ms. Cho informed them. Her spectacled eyes stayed glued on her screen as she fielded emails, tweets and Weverse posts, mining for a hint that anyone knew what transpired.

         “Do we have the name?” Bang wanted to know.

         “We’re working on it, the lawyers in LA are fighting the clock to get the footage and receipts from the restaurant so we can narrow it down, we’ve got a team working on tracing him,” Mr. Cho said.

         Mr. Cho, Ms. Lee and Mr. Yang had worked for Big Hit for all of three years. They had joined when Namjoon had led the insurrection, when BTS had demanded new contracts and lawyers that worked for the good of everyone, not only the executives of Big Hit. They worked closely with the band, fought for them, protected their rights and stood by them when Bang and Co were unreasonable. They had combed through the agency, ridding it of lawyers whose integrity was compromised, whose morals allowed them to turn a blind eye when discussions of what had happened to Jungkook occurred. They were poison, and Cho, Lee and Yang were resolute in their decisions to rid the company of them.

         “The LA lawyers are arguing it was a hate crime, the man attacked first and Jungkook defended himself and y/n,” Mr. Yang said.  

         “No one knows about his fight with Namjoon, do they?” Sejin inquired.

         “It’s been three years, sir, if someone knows, they would’ve sold it by now,” Ms. Lee told him.

         “This cannot get out.” Bang reiterated.

         “What if it does?” Sejin questioned.

         “Jungkook pays for having it scrubbed from the web,” Bang responded quickly.

         “What will ARMY say?” Sejin pushed. The ever-present fear, the thorn in their side, what would ARMY do?

         “They’ll be livid,” Bang responded, looking at Sejin.

         “Angry at the person who assaulted Jungkook, or Jungkook for having a secret relationship?” Sejin asked.

         “Both, they want Jungkook for themselves. Not only is he in a committed relationship, which he has lied about for nearly three years, but he met her when he was sent to rehab, and he’s punching men over her,” Bang ticked off each reason on his chubby fingers, not pausing when Sejin wanted to interrupt. “They’ll find the man and harass him until the day he dies.”

         “Are they closer to getting married?” Ms. Lee interrupted.

         “We should ask,” Sejin said.

         “We asked when Jungkook came to us the first time,” Bang reminded him.

         “He didn’t have an answer,” Sejin shrugged.

         “He specifically asked that he be given the chance to see where it could go,” Mr. Cho had pulled up the initial agreement, signed years ago, never amended.

         “They’d already been dating for six months at that point,” Mr. Yang said.

         “He was too good at hiding it,” Bang whispered, eyes drifting from Sejin to the pictures that lined the office, images from concerts, award shows, when they received their medals and spoke at the UN. Images of their accomplishments, of their status, of their power.

         “Namjoon told him he had to tell us,” Sejin spoke softly, pulling Bang from his reverie.

         “They gave us answers to our questions,” Bang responded, voice still soft.

         ”I’ve never met a woman so angry before,” Mr. Cho said laughing.

         “She was rightfully angry with us,” Sejin stated.

         Bang’s eyes grew wide, creases in his forehead appearing as his glare bored into Sejin, “She nearly tore them apart.”

         “We nearly tore them apart” Sejin corrected.

         “We?” Bang’s voice had gone from a docile whisper to a yell, a change in decibels that surprised Sejin.

         “We asked Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon to ask those questions. We gave them the list, we told them when they had to do it. We manipulated Jungkook for years. We have nearly torn them apart so many times, it’s a miracle they are standing.” Sejin was fuming, the total disregard for their behavior sickened him. He hated the way Bang ignored their actions, hoping no one would notice if they were quiet about it. They signed the bands new contracts, they agreed to allow Jungkook to date and ease up on their restrictions. They made plans to be better and now, with Jungkook hurting, they were discussing the possibility of hurting him again.

         “And out of the ashes, Jungkook’s relationship,” Mr. Yang replied.

         “Out of the ashes, Jungkook rises, again and again,” Sejin corrected.

         “They came back with nothing,” Bang repeated.

         “Disdain and anger,” Again Sejin corrected Bang’s revisionist memory. “They felt that before they spoke with her.”

         “They’ve done a good job keeping their relationship quiet. Can’t we extend them a little grace?” Ms. Lee said, bringing the men back to the conversation at hand.

         “No, they signed a contract,” Bang snapped.

         “It was self-defense,” Mr. Yang reminded him.

         “No one will care,” Bang said.

         “They’ll want her name, how long they’ve been together, how they got together,” Mr. Cho listed the questions they too had asked.

         “We tell them that Jungkook met her on contract mandated anger management and rehab? That we sent him to an outpatient treatment on the ruse of working on music and choreography in LA, when he was really in therapy because of the decade of abuse he endured at our hands?” Sejin countered Mr. Cho, angered that they continued to gloss over these inalienable truths.

         “Don’t forget that Namjoon went out there too,” Mr. Yang added.

         “Yoongi and Seokjin as well,” Ms. Lee aforementioned.

         “They met at a restaurant by chance, that part is true,” Mr. Cho took a sip of his water, tired from the hours long meeting.

         “While he was in rehab,” Mr. Yang amended.

         “That we drove him to,” Sejin interjected. Unlike Bang, he kept his fury under the surface, simmering, bursts of steam the only sign that he was angered.

         “Or that our agreement stated if he attended treatment, he could date,” Mr. Cho shrugged, tossing back a few aspirin with his water.

         “Him and Namjoon, two relationships,” Bang muttered.

         “Both Americans,” Sejin added.

         “It’s less of a headache, less to hide,” Bang stated.

         “How long until the rest come knocking?” Sejin asked.

         “We’ll have to deal with their, sexualities,” Mr. Yang reminded them.

         “They can’t be gay and a pop star,” Bang scoffed.

         “They can in almost every other country in the world,” Ms. Lee told them. She had been a lawyer in Korea for years, and never had she been so conflicted about the integrity of her career as she was working for Big Hit.

         “They can’t leave us, do we have enough to stand upon?” Bang’s mind was moving to the worst-case scenario, Jungkook breaking his contract, the other six following. They were a unit, they were a team, they couldn’t stand without each other. They didn’t have to, and they never wanted to.

         “Financially? Yes, for a while,” Mr. Yang answered.

         “But what will our name mean?” Sejin pondered aloud, “Our legacy if the seven of them decide either after their next negotiations, after service, or before, that they don’t want to be represented by an organization that denies them love, relationships, a family?”

         “We follow the same policies as every other agency,” Bang said.

         “Yes, but do they have as much power and clout as we do?” Sejin questioned. “Who will we be if we don’t let them date who they want, love who they want, marry who they want?”

         “Page Six,” Ms. Lee called.

         “Who?” Bang asked, temper rising.

         “Page Six and TMZ, they’ve got it,” Ms. Lee clarified.

         “Get it down!” Bang roared.

         “What if they won’t?” Mr. Yang asked.

         Bang took a deep breath, regaining his composure before he spoke, “No amount of money is too much.”

         “How much is Jungkook willing to pay?” Mr. Cho inquired.

         “Call and -

         “Don’t call, get it down and we can negotiate with him later,” Bang instructed.

         “They’ve got video,” Ms. Lee told them.

         “Video!” Bang and Sejin yelled.

         “Let me see it, now!” Bang roared.

         The video was tossed on the screen, and in grainy footage, they could see the man approach you. They could see him grab you, Jungkook telling him to back off. In fuzzy audio they heard bits and pieces of the various slurs and they watched as you and Jungkook froze before his fist collided. The video was coupled with dozens of bad photos, none miraculously, capturing his tattoos. In the rush to leave the bar, there was a single instant, a moment, where the undercut can be seen, the earrings flash, a slight blur of ink, and a side profile that looks almost, almost, like Jungkook flashes across the screen.

         The team sat, clicking through the photos, watching the video over and over. For what it’s worth, and it’s worth a lot, you never yell his name. You never identified the man you’re with, and other than a blur of skin, your face couldn’t be made out. The only thing that was obvious was the man spewing hate. His volume louder than anyone else’s.

         It’s in the moments of watching the video over and over, looping the audio, sending it to engineers to enhance, that more photos began popping up, better quality, videos with clear shots of Jungkook’s face.

         Bang and Sejin are on the phone with lawyers and conglomerates, trying to pay by the hundred thousand, reaching out to their already made contacts in hopes of stopping this.

         They could barely admit it, but they were scared.

Scared of ARMY’s reaction.

Scared of what this means for Namjoon and the others.

Scared for the safety of you and Jungkook.

Scared their stocks will tank.

Scared that BTS will walk.

Scared that their lies and manipulation will come to light.

Scared that hate speech and racial slurs will spill out from the dark corners they’ve been hiding.

Scared of the power they created.

Scared of the dynamic they were breathing in.

         But more than that, they’re scared that they have, again, in an attempt to control him, given Jungkook too much.

         It never matters what Big Hit has taken from him. Only what he’s given, and the promise of more in the future. A scandal of this size, a hidden lover, unsure if Jungkook would do anything to stop it, was enough for them to pay extra to have teams monitor for the next several hours, weeks, even months to ensure it doesn’t get out. It’s enough for them to put Jungkook on stricter orders, to attempt to amend his contract, to attempt to cage him in. They’ve got him on his tiptoes, spinning, shining for them with the threat of shattering looming above them all.

[luisjuanmilton]

have u ever thought about writing something, that includes a crash? Like Seb crashing his Car because it's shitty or someone else or he himself made a mistake and it looks really bad for a second but it turns out to be fine? Sebchal or Sewis 👁️👄👁️

Not me making this be 2k words... I am so sorry anon I got very carried away 🤍

Sebastian Vettel/Charles Leclerc

(tw for description of a crash that results in a concussion, but rest assured it’s not very graphic and everyone’s perfectly okay in the end)

Sebastian thought that every driver had a sixth sense about crashes.

It was like an instinct, something that warned you about what was going to happen seconds before it actually did.

Which was why, as he took a corner and went a little too wide, the car just barely clipping the border of the track, he knew to instantly let go of the steering wheel.

Something had to be amiss with the car, because there was no way it should have reacted that violently to such a tiny error, but before he knew it the car was upside down.

His Ferrari rolled around for what seemed like hours but realistically had to have been only seconds, only coming to an abrupt stop when it collided against the barriers with a sickening thud, the force of the impact making Sebastian’s head slam against the side of his seat before everything went black for a moment.

When Seb came back around he could hear a shrill ringing noise in his ears, and he felt a little dizzy both from the crash itself and because he was still hanging upside down.

It took him a couple of minutes to actually become aware of what was happening, and he blinked slowly as he tried to get rid of the black spots that were dancing in front of his vision.

“Sebastian? Sebastian, please respond”

And Sebastian really tried to do that, but his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. His mind was thankfully clearer, until he was conscious enough to take account of all his body parts and confirm to himself that he was alright.

His head did hurt like a motherfucker, but all things considered he thought that it could have been a lot worse. He really wasn’t looking forward to having to see any bright lights in the foreseeable future though.

“Sebastian”

Oh right, the team were probably expecting an answer.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing he could get out was a pitiful groan. Alright, so maybe his concussion was a little worse than he thought.

“Sebastian, can you confirm you’re alright?”

And well wasn’t it a surprise to hear Mattia’s voice. He even sounded worried, which could have fooled Sebastian.

Okay, that was a little mean.

And he was now talking to himself inside his head. Great.

Right before he was going to try to give a verbal answer once more, he felt his vision go even darker than it already was, and he somehow managed to turn his head to the right to find who he assumed was a marshal kneeling next to the car.

“Mr. Vettel, can you move?”

It probably took Sebastian longer than it should’ve to answer, but after thinking it through he decided that he could at least try.

“Mr. Vettel?”

Oh right, words.

“Y-Yeah” he finally managed to get out, even if his voice sounded like a croaky mess to his ears.

The marshal looked visibly relieved after hearing it though, and Sebastian for the first time wondered exactly how bad the crash looked from the outside.

After being asked if he was bleeding (to which he answered “I don’t think so”), the man instructed him to unclasp his seatbelts, and he couldn’t help the startled yelp that left his mouth after he did that and fell headfirst into the awaiting arms of the marshal.

He was pulled out from under the car in a very unceremonious way, but even after being freed from the metal contraption he found that he was way too tired to move without some sort of assistance, so he allowed himself to be manhandled by the unknown man.

“Do you think you can stand up?”

Sebastian grumbled, if he was being perfectly honest, what he really wanted to do was lay in the floor and take a nap.

The marshal chuckled “I don’t think that’ll be possible right now sir”

Had he said that out loud?

“Yes”

Oh.

“We better get you checked for a concussion as soon as possible” the marshal replied, sounding both worried and a little amused by the entire situation.

Sebastian hummed in agreement, and before he knew it, he was being lifted in the marshal’s arms, the man doing it with an ease that made it seemed like he weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

The man was careful not to move his head too much as he placed him on an awaiting stretcher, and Seb let out a happy sigh at the feeling of the cushion below him. Now he could finally take that nap.

“Please try not to fall asleep Mr. Vettel”

Or not.

A couple of paramedics lifted the stretcher and placed him inside the ambulance, and only then did they carefully remove Sebastian’s helmet, making him wince as he was suddenly faced with the incredibly bright white lights of the vehicle.

The doctor asked him a couple of questions that only took him a little more effort than usual to answer, like what date it was, how much was seven times nine, when he had won his first championship and which country they were currently in.

He thought he had passed the test with flying colors, but the doctor still insisted on driving him to the nearest hospital and conducting a proper examination.

And he still wasn’t allowed to take his nap.

All the fancy tests did was confirm that he was in fact alright, and with every minute that passed he felt the concussion-induced ditziness fading away.

The return to his usual mental state coincided with the small tv screen that was hanging on the corner of his hospital room playing images from his accident, and he felt dread rising in his chest as he saw just how bad the wreckage looked from an outsider’s point of view.

He even felt worried when he saw his limp body getting pulled out from the cockpit, and he obviously knew that he was alright.

“Ah, fuck” he cursed, hoping with all his might that someone had announced that he was perfectly alright by now.

Although if the footage being replayed over and over again without any sign of an update of his condition was anything to go by, he seriously doubted it.

Someone really had to do something about F1’s tendency to show such traumatizing images to their stupidly large audience.

With that thought in mind he shut the tv off, and without the noise coming from it he thought he could hear a very familiar voice screaming down the hall.

“Do I look like I give a shit about not being his family?! You will let me through at once! Mais bon sang pour qui vois prenez-vous?”

Sebastian had to stifle a laugh. Oh, he knew who that voice belonged to alright.

“Sir please calm down –“

“Do not tell me to calm down! Tell me where I can find Sebastian!”

The voices kept growing louder, and Seb sat up straighter in his bed so he could look out of the room’s windows that showed the hospital’s corridors.

“I can’t give you that information sir, I don’t even know how you got past security –“

“Ta gueule! Just tell me where he is!”

As amusing as it was to hear him curse out hospital staff in french, Sebastian thought it was in everybody’s best interests to put a stop to his rampage.

“Charles, I’m over here”

The noise instantly died out at the sound of his voice, and it was replaced by thundering footsteps as Charles followed after it and finally stopped in front of his room’s open door.

And as soon as Sebastian laid eyes on him, any trace of amusement he had felt instantly fizzled out.

“Sebastian?” Charles choked out, his usually confident voice sounding incredibly small as he clearly tried to fight back tears.

The German felt his heart clench at how red and puffy his usually bright green eyes looked, and if all those tell-tale signs of crying weren’t enough, there were also dried tear tracks running down his face.

“Hey Charlie” Sebastian smiled softly, but any reassurance he thought that might have had was quickly discarded as Charles’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I thought you were dead” the younger man gasped, crossing the room with two long strides and all but launching himself on top of Sebastian.

He instinctively brought his arms around Charles’s shoulders, holding him close to his chest as his shoulders heaved with sobs.

“Whoa, hey it’s okay, I’m okay” Sebastian soothed, tracing circles over his back in what he hoped was a calming motion.

“You took so long to answer, and no one was telling me anything” Charles hiccuped, face still firmly buried on Seb’s chest “a-and, and then I saw the footage and when they pulled you out of the car – merde, Seb. I thought I had lost you too”

And well, Sebastian truly thought the despair that tinted Charles’s voice was more painful than any crash could ever be. He would genuinely give away all he owned just to never hear him sound so broken again.

“But you didn’t love, you didn’t lose me” he murmured, gently moving Charles away from him so that he could actually look at his face.

Sebastian carefully brought a hand up to cradle Charles’s face, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling in a steady stream.

“I only got a concussion, I’m so sorry for making you worry”

Charles sniffled, the pitiful sound making him look even younger than he was “I-I just thought, I thought I’d never get to see you again”

“I’m right here sweetheart, I might be a little old, but you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon”

The snort he got out of Charles was enough to make a large smile appear on his face, happy to see some of the sparkle back in those eyes he loved so much.

“I’m holding you to that promise old man”

“And I intend to keep it”

With that, Sebastian leaned upwards to close the small distance that was left between them, pressing his lips against Charles in a soft kiss.

Charles’s lips tasted a little salty because of his tears, but Sebastian didn’t care in the slightest, content enough to lazily move their mouths together and feel the way the Monegasque melted into his arms as he effectively distracted him from what had happened.

His boyfriend always seemed as eager to kiss him as he had the first time, and Sebastian would be lying if he said he didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that he was so loved and so desired by him.

Charles looked entirely more content as they separated, pressing another kiss to Seb’s cheek before making himself comfortable next to him on the bed and letting his head fall back to rest on top of his chest, Sebastian immediately starting to run his fingers through his soft black hair.

It was a position they had become incredibly familiar with during the past two years, but now it was even more comforting than it usually was for Charles, because he could actually hear Seb’s beating heart below his ear.

“How did you even get here so fast?” Sebastian asked after they had laid in comfortable silence for a while, the throbbing in his head reduced to a tiny pang by now.

“Ah, yes. Uhhh, I might have sneaked away as everyone else parked the cars and bribed a security man to take me here”

Sebastian was rendered speechless by his boyfriend’s admission, before he broke out into a fit of giggles that made his entire chest rumble with the sound, Charles eventually finding it impossible not to join in.

“You sneaky little gremlin” Seb said in between his chuckles, which only grew louder when the Monegasque turned to look at him with a smirk and a very self-satisfied look in his face.

“I did learn from the best”

“That you did”

The two fell silent again after that, and it didn’t take long at all before they drifted off to sleep, the events of the day being entirely too much for them to handle.

And that was how a gaggle of worried drivers found them hours later, with Lewis just barely being able to stop the younger men (and Daniel) from storming into the room and waking up the couple.

The Brit smiled fondly at the sight of Charles carefully snuggled up against Sebastian’s side, a protective arm firmly planted across the older man’s waist. They were both wearing content looks on their faces, and not for the first time he felt incredibly glad that they had found each other.

“Okay boys, we can come back later. It’s better if we let them sleep it off”

Lewis carefully closed the door to the room as he herded the others away, but not before taking at least fifty pictures of the happy couple that would certainly come in handy as blackmail material some other time.    

[starrybbarnes]

dancing hearts | [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: there’s an app that’s all the rage, and Bucky wants no part in it.

Word Count: 1828 (a pretty solid word count, if i do say so myself)

Author’s note: before y’all ask, yes i did made a tiktok one shot. it was like a given. but this one shot is inspired by that trend where you record your s/o looking at you while dancing, and I know that’s something bucky would do. as always, I enjoy the feedback you guys give me ♡

Warnings: centenarian steve doing the savage dance (it’s canon). some tooth-rotting fluff, it’s lowkey sickening. oodles and oodles of fluff, i promise

You knew you shouldn't have succumbed to the pleas of Peter and Shuri. But here you were, downloading an app that rewards people in recording themselves doing funny videos, and dances as well.

At first, you only used tiktok to just watch others, but then you started toying with features. As a SHIELD agent, you would sometimes record videos of you giving tours of the Stark building, and many people enjoyed that content. When your audience found out that you also worked alongside the Avengers, they begged you to find a way to include them in videos. 

It was no easy feat. At first, you would just videotape your friends while they’re working out, or if they had the time, a “day in the life of” type of clip, or you would film an occasional prank video, which the viewers would eat up.

The videos that would garner the most views, however, were the dancing videos. Yes, it is true that you got your ‘very serious and adult’ friends to do funny renditions of Savage and Say So. People could not believe that someone as old as Sam can do the splits, but yet, there he was. 

Another niche that your fans enjoyed was videos of you teaching the Avengers the popular dances. When you taught Steve the dance to Savage, he had stormed off grumbling how it’s ‘indecent’ and ‘humiliating.’ He did come back to finish the dance, though, and might you add, he did slightly better than you.

From duets with Peter, to breaking out in dance at the gym with Natasha, everyone enjoyed doing the dances with you. All except one.

You always knew Bucky was a serious one, but you have seen him crack a smile or two. And you have seen him shimmy once in a while when you played music in the kitchen. But for some reason, he was not fond of this new trend that was making waves throughout the Avengers compound. 

It’s not like you’re secretly recording him or anything. You ask everyone beforehand if they mind being recorded. But it seems like he doesn't want to do it, point blank. Steve says it might be because he’s just not a fan of being the center of attention. Sam thinks it because Bucky’s afraid to admit that he sucks at dancing. 

And today was no exception. It was a day off for the Avengers, so you thought this was prime time for some new footage of your friends dancing. You had decided you wanted to teach one of the harder dances, and just make a video out of the many times he might mess up.

You made your way to the kitchen and started to greet everyone. Your eyes landed on Bucky, who was at the kitchen island, eating Pad Thai. You softly said hello, and Bucky looked up. He had a small grin and politely waved hello. He offered his seat next to him, and told you to help yourself to some of his leftovers, which you happily agree to.

Despite ‘hating’ your ‘antics,’ Bucky was more than happy to hang out with you during lunch time. About ninety percent of the time, he’s pretty cold and broody, but the other ten percent he’s a pleasure to be around.

You kind of wished you knew what went on inside his head, simply on the basis that you like him. It’d be nice to know if you liking him was worth it. 

As you got your fair share of Pad Thai, you asked him if he wanted to do a video with him. A lot of your audience wanted to see the Winter Soldier in action, busting some moves.

Bucky nodded his head, “it’s not my cup of tea, doll. Why would I do something as ridiculous as that?” 

You frowned slightly. “There’s no harm in having a little fun, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, I just don’t wanna do it.” He then left his seat to the island to go sit at the kitchen table to finish his lunch.

You narrowed your eyes towards Bucky, not caring enough to argue over something small. He’ll come around eventually. 

Almost immediately, Steve walked into the kitchen, and your face lit up. You asked him if he was busy. He hesitated while saying no, but it didn’t matter. You told him he was going to take part in a dancing video.

Steve complained slightly, as the other Avengers started cheering him on to do it. You propped your phone against the fruit basket on the island, the camera facing towards the living room and kitchen table, with New York in the background.

You hit record and started guiding Steve along with the song. It was an upbeat song and it wasn’t long that he started to get the hang of it. Recording took no longer than 20 minutes, but you quickly got to editing the video. Once done, you posted it, excited to see your followers’ reaction. 

You took a quick snack break and decided to see the comments of the video. Everyone loved it: comments ranging from adoration to slightly thirsty for Captain America. You showed the comment section to Steve, and he couldn’t stop cracking up. 

Then there was a top comment that was gaining popularity. Steve read it while slightly smirking, and decided to show it to you. “Check it out,” Steve said, “looks like people are spotting an admirer.”

You were confused at what he was talking about, and that’s when you saw the comment:

mary: has anyone noticed Bucky in the background?! He keeps looking at y/n with heart eyes! 

Sure enough, when you went back to look at the footage, you saw that Bucky was feigning eating his lunch, whilst staring at you, albeit with his heart fluttering. 

You thought the gesture was endearing, and it only made you wonder more if Bucky really thought of you in that way. It was time to get the bottom of it. 

 “Hey Buck, is it okay if I record here? The lighting is better, but I just wanna make sure I’m not intruding,” you said with slight concern. 

Bucky smiled at you, “you’ll never intrude on me, Doll. You can have as much or as little sunlight when you’re around me.”

You giggled like a schoolgirl and went on with your plan. You decided to place your phone by a pile of books on the kitchen table where Bucky was sitting, inconspicuously flipping the camera so that it was facing him. 

The song that you decided to ‘record’ was an upbeat and fun one, and you’ve already learned the dance. There had been a challenge going around that you would film your significant other reacting to you dancing said song, and it was very popular. However, you didn’t have a significant other, but Bucky was definitely a close second. 

As the song started playing, Bucky’s eyes started to light up and became very interested as to how you were going to dance to it. His head started bobbing along to the song, mouthing some of the lyrics. 

Then it got to the chorus. You started doing the moves along with the song, and Bucky’s face said it all. He was enamored. He started to cheer you on, mimicking the moves you were doing, and clapping once you finished your little dance number. 

As you finished your dance, your phone finished recording and saved the video to your photo album. You took a seat at the kitchen table and quickly skimmed the video. Your cheeks started burning red as you captured a moment of Bucky smiling really big while you were dancing.

You kept replaying the video when Bucky called your name. “How’s the video looking, sweetheart?” he asked as he tried to read your face.

 Your face started to go red again. You didn’t think you would get this far. Your mind started racing and tried to think of anything, anything, to cover up your true motives.

“I… the video didn’t come out as good as I thought,” you replied in a high-pitched voice. 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing, doll,” Bucky questioned as he got up from his chair and slowly started making his way towards you. 

You hid your phone behind your back, trying to back away from Bucky’s extended hand.

“Doll, I just want to see the video, it can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, but it is, I can’t show you,” you tried to argue. 

Bucky started advancing much faster, and had you cornered by the kitchen wall. He put one arm above your head, and stared right through your lies.

“And why is it bad?” Bucky inquired.

You took a deep breath, while also making the mistake of inhaling Bucky’s cologne. His fresh pine scent started making you dizzy, knees almost bucking at the sight before you.

“It’s just…” you started. “The last video I made with Steve, someone noticed you in the background looking at me, and they said it looked endearing.”

When Bucky didn’t respond, you continued, “I didn’t believe it so I did the challenge where I record myself dancing, I recorded you looking at me dancing.”

“Is that so?” Bucky said as he broke into a small.

“I’m really sorry Bucky,” you replied with a small whisper, “If you want, I’ll delete it immediately. I wasn’t planning on posting it or anything.” 

“Then what exactly were you going to do with the video?” Bucky asked as he raised an eyebrow.

You gulped. Well, it’s now or fucking never.

“.... cherish it,” You said sheepishly, “I thought you looked really cute when you were cheering me on with my dumb dances that you hate.”

Bucky’s face softened. “Didn’t know you thought that fondly of me, doll. Also, your dances aren’t dumb. I just… I’m a bad dancer.” 

You started laughing. “Lucky for you, we both have the rest of the day off to practice… if that’s okay with you?”

Bucky kissed your forehead, “of course it’s fine… after I take on a little dinner date, though.”

“Deal.” 

You and Bucky embraced each other, taking in each other. You gave him a peck on the cheek and then Peter came running in.

“Hey guys! Shuri’s here and she wants to teach you a new dance!” he chirped as he was running out of breath. “It’s called the renegade dance, do you guys wanna take part in it?”

You turned to Bucky, who then flashed his smile. “Of course, kid. But let Shuri know that me and my girl over here are gonna crush you guys at it.”

Peter’s eyes widened and took a glance towards both of you. 

“... uhhhh no. But this is still a lot to process,” and with that he left the kitchen.

“What do you say, Y/N... Can I have this dance?” Bucky asked, extending his arm.

“It’d be an honor, Buck,” you replied, taking his hand and making your way outside.

[bittersweetmelxdy]

ooh yay! I’m the anon who asked if you had done Gavin’s 5th footage, I was kind of wondering if you could write a his POV? bc I feel like when MC told him she was going to a prison to interview convicts he flipped

I had to reread the 5th Footage, and I agree Gavin in canon was surprisingly okay with it. But here you go, hope you like it x

Title: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach Pairing: Gavin x MC Words: 2,066

From the moment you and your team decided to cover the serial killer that had recently been captured by the police, and he had agreed to your proposal of an interview, you knew that the hardest challenge was yet to come. Gavin wasn’t an overprotective boyfriend, but he was definitely a protective one.  

You psyched yourself up all the way back to Gavin’s apartment, holding a couple bags of groceries in your hand as you walked. Hoping to soften Gavin first by cooking him a nutritious, heartfelt meal before you asked for his help. With Gavin’s occupation there was no way you could possibly sneak into the prison to have the interview without him knowing, even if he wasn’t on shift, you had a sneaking suspicion that Gavin would still find out where you had gone. Plus, the bedrock of a healthy and lasting relationship was trust, and even from the start you had never planned to be dishonest with Gavin. Reaching his front door, you placed the bags on the floor, fishing out a silver key to unlock it and step into his apartment. You sighed, reaching into a drawer to pull out the apron you kept in Gavin’s apartment and you quickly set yourself to work, first prepping the vegetables and washing the rice. Within the next hour the cold, clean apartment was soon filled with the various fragrant aromas of the plethora of dishes you were preparing.

Later when Gavin tiredly made his way into the apartment, dragging himself over to the front door, and slots the key into the front heaving a heavy sigh to expel the tiredness from his figure. It had been a long day, from the sheer amount of criminals that passed though the precinct, the time on patrol, and the hours he spent writing police reports and reviewing case files for ongoing investigations, Gavin truly felt that his energy had been completely depleted after his day. His day was also made worse by the lack of his beloved girlfriend in his day, with you in meetings all day and him seemingly on the constant go, neither of you had even been able to even pass a message on to the other, apart from your ritual ‘good morning’ text. Even now, with how late Gavin had finished his shift, he sadly realised that not only was it too late to go see you as you’d probably be getting ready for bed, but also he was just too tired to make his way over to your apartment. He sighed, knowing that even though his place was fully stocked with a multitude of instant noodles, there was no way he had the energy to make anything and he knew he would probably just take a shower and crash for the night. However, much to his surprise instead of the usual silence, what greeted him was the fragrant aromas of home cooked food and the soft humming of yours dancing on the air. Gavin divested himself of his jacket and took off his shoes silently, padding softly towards the kitchen, where he leaned against the doorframe and enjoyed the show.

You were dancing around the room, twirling in your sock covered feet as you sang along to the soft music drifting from your phone speakers. Gavin’s eyes softened as he watched your ponytail sway with your movements and when you paused to check on the pot on the stove, he couldn’t help but come closer to you, your presence had always been enchanting to him but now in the soft lighting of the kitchen, you looked ethereal to him. You were startled on a few seconds, feeling another person’s arms snake their way around your waist. Recognising the clean scent behind you, you sighed contentedly and leaned back into the embrace, Gavin inwardly preened at how you melted in his presence.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Gavin said, pressing a kiss to your temple and then rested his chin on your shoulder.  

“A nice surprise?” you question, glancing at him.

“Yeah.” Gavin breathed, and you smiled at the praise before lifting a teaspoon for Gavin to taste, after his nod of approval you turned off the stove and then you both reluctantly detached from each other, so you could place the dishes on the table, whilst Gavin gathered the plates and the cutlery.  

The two of you sat down and after a while of soft munching, Gavin noticed that every couple of seconds you would look at him shyly, as if gauging his demeanour. He rolled his eyes playfully, starting to laugh as he wondered as to what was going through your mind, and then reached out and rubbed your hair affectionately, his calloused fingers a sharp contrast to the soft tresses of your hair.

“Okay, what do you want to ask me?” he asked, raising his eyebrow at you.

“What?” you elongated the word, trying to play it off.

Gavin just looked at you, smirking, and you sighed, deciding to just come clean.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” you put down your cutlery, knowing your appetite was definitely gone.  

“Depends on what you ask me.” Gavin smiled and helped you gather the dishes to take to the sink.

You both washed the dishes in silence, Gavin deciding not to push you to make you uncomfortable. He was perfectly content to wait until you were ready to ask him, as he was always ready to listen. Instead he stood by you, drying each of the dishes after you had finished stacking them neatly on the counter beside the dish rack. He watched your minute expressional changes as you washed the dishes, keeping his expression calm as he didn’t want to scare you. You always reminded him of a hedgehog at times, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d cause you to raise you spikes at him. When you suddenly paused after the last bowl, Gavin paused too reaching over to lay his warm hands upon your smaller trembling ones, your hands still covered on in the soapy water. A couple seconds passed, and just before Gavin decided to push you a little and ask, you opened your mouth first.

“What would do if I wanted to do a crime interview.?” You blurted out quickly, biting your lip in nervousness, and Gavin’s blood chilled.

Gavin’s hands stilled, and you immediately felt guilty, he then dried his hands and left the kitchen in silence. You turned off the tap, dried your hands and quickly followed, stopping in his living room as you watched him pace back and forth in his living room. You furrowed your brows waiting, as you knew he was trying to gather his thoughts as he didn’t want to yell at you.

Gavin had no idea what you were thinking, it wasn’t that he didn’t believe in your ability, he was your biggest supporter, but this... he felt like he couldn’t. Gavin had seen prison, he’d done prison interviews before, and he had seen hardened criminals, but that was something he didn’t want YOU to see. You weren’t as innocent as you were before the Black Swan incident, but since prison wasn’t just a place anyone could walk into and Gavin wasn’t sure you knew what you were getting into. Plus, Gavin would beat himself up if anything happened to you whilst you were there, and if he was honest the only person he’d trust, other than himself, to protect you was Eli and he had nothing to do with the Loveland Police Force, so that wasn’t an option. He mentally ran through the recent cases that had had arrests made, and a sickening realisation hit him as he remember the serial killer they had recently arrested, and hoping he was wrong he ventured to ask.

“Does this have anything to do with the serial killer that was recently caught?” he asked.

“Well...”

“Does. It?” Gavin gritted his teeth as he spoke, still holding hope he was wrong.

“Yeah...” you looked off to the side, feeling uncomfortable under his glare.

Gavin forcibly exhaled, and then walked towards you, stopping a few inches in front of you and simply offering you his hand. Knowing Gavin would never do anything to hurt you intentionally, you placed your hand in his without hesitation, and Gavin led you over to the couch and both of you sat down. He knew this was going to happen, you had the annoyingly admirable habit of having a hands-on approach to as many of the projects your company was in charge of as possible.

“What is your impression of serial killers?” he asked tiredly, figuring he might as well just find out.

You deliberated for a bit, “Ummmm... I’ve seen ‘Silence of the Lambs’ once during uni.” you admitted.

Gavin sighed, dragging his hand down his face, obviously it was not the same thing, not only was the movie played up at some aspects for shock value, but watching a movie about a serial killer in the comfort of your own home, and sitting in the same room as an actual serial killer were vastly different things.

“But that’s why I brought it up.” your hands rested on his forearm, “Since I’ve never done a crime interview, can you come with me?”

“You promise you won’t go without me?” Gavin turned to look at you.

“I think I’d be too scared to.” you admitted.

Gavin then took his arm from your hold, and then drew you into his embrace as he put his hand around your waist, before leaning back exhausted by the rollercoaster of emotions he had just been on. He had to admit he felt the relief of your request, knowing that you had wanted to ask him for help, and glad that you had at least thought that part through. However, he still felt the apprehension of letting you walk into the prison, even if he’d be by your side the entire time. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat still feeling bad.

“Sorry, Gavin.” you apologised sincerely.

“No, it’s okay Love, I’d feel worse if you didn’t tell me.” he admitted, resting his hand on his stomach, drumming it tunelessly and rhythmically, allowing the monotonous action to calm him down, and recentre after the scare you just gave him.

You reached over and interlaced your fingers with his, the gentle action causing Gavin to look back at you with a soft smile and he breathed in the summery scent of your hair, squeezing them lightly, “I was always planning to tell you. I know, no more running into danger without letting you know.” you smiled up at him, fishing for praise.

Gavin pressed a kiss to your forehead as a reward, praising you gently, “Glad you learned something from when we dealt with Black Swan.”  

“Yeah, I’m so much smarter now, aren’t I?”

“...”

“Gavin!” you sat up and looked at him offended as he laughed boyishly at you, before pulling you back down into his embrace.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. My girl is the smartest person I know.” he placated you, the effect ruined by the mirth in his eyes and the laughter still shaking his figure, you rolled your eyes playfully and snuggled back into him.

“Thanks Gavin,” you responded sarcastically, before finishing sincerely, “but really, thank you for not getting too mad.”

“Well I’ll be with you the whole time so I’ll be able to protect you.” he smiled, leaning his head down against yours, a releasing a yawn, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him.

“You tired?” you asked, and Gavin shook his head, but you knew he was just making excuses because he didn’t want you to leave, so you huffed a laugh and continued, “I only have to go in the office after lunch so...”

“You can stay the night?” he asked, his tired tone lifted with hope.

“Yeah, I can stay.” you stood up, and pulled Gavin up by his hand.

Gavin offered you a lopsided smile, hands resting lightly on your hips, and then after flexing his hands once, he detached from you making his way to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower after his day. Content to know that you’d be staying the night, and his heart jumped knowing that you'd be able to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[elisaphoenix13]

Everlasting Spirit (Ch.2)

All of the kids made it home safely much to Tony's relief. It either meant the kids weren't targeted as well or he made the right decision in having Quill picking up Diana. Maybe it was both. Maybe Diana had been a target but the boys weren't. At least not yet. Tony didn't want to risk it though.

They would be put on lockdown until Stephen was found...he just had to tell them.

"None of you kids are leaving the tower until further notice." Tony says and both the boys protest loudly.

"What?! Why?! I have to go to school! I have decathlon!" Peter complains. "And Spiderman!"

"That party is tonight too and you said I could go!" Harley adds and Tony grimaces.

"I've already notified your school. Diana and Cassie's too."

Harley snorts. "Who threatened us this time?"

Tony exhales shakily. "Whoever took Mom."

Absolute silence. Both Harley and Peter looked like they wanted to either puke or protest Tony's lockdown even more but they couldn't figure out which one to do first. They remained quiet as the team slowly gathered on the family floor, Wanda still holding Valerie and distracting her from the growing tension in the air, and Athena lying down by Tony's feet and whining. Even she knew something was wrong because of said tension and how distressed Tony was.

Since the engineer was on the edge of losing it, Steve and Rhodey stepped up.

"We have a code blue." The captain starts. "Which means Stephen has been taken and we have no way of tracking him. Tony has already checked the cameras near Diana's school--"

Harley's head snaps up. "Wait! Where's Dia?!"

"Downstairs with Cass." Quill answers. "I pulled her out of school early when Tony called me and asked me to pick up Diana after telling me what happened."

"Wait. What about Wong? Can he do that spell with the hair to track Stephen?" Bruce asks and Rhodey shakes his head.

"We already asked. He says that spell is only something the Sorcerer Supreme can use."

"So we need some of us on the streets." Steve points at Wanda, Scott, and Sam. "You guys are the least recognizable. See if you hear anything or find any clues. Start at the school."

The three of them nod and after Wanda hands Valerie over to Peter, they step onto the elevator to leave the tower. As soon as the elevator doors close, Steve sticks other members on video surveillance and any other way they can think of finding out what happened to their matriarch. Quill was given a special assignment.

"Look for him." Steve says.

"Needle in a haystack much?" Quill grumbles.

"I mean with your Gaze." The captain elaborates and the celestial frowns.

"It only works for Scott and the girls."

"Try anyway. It's our best chance of finding him right now."

Tony didn't even have to beg. Quill just looked at him and the distraught look on his face, and his eyes filled in with their galaxy colors as he started his search. Tony knew the celestial knew exactly what the engineer was going through because he had gone through it when Scott was taken. Not to mention this was Stephen they were talking about. Of course, if any member was taken, they would do everything to get them back, but Mama Bear was a special case.

"What do we do?" Harley asks.

Tony rubs his face. "Help with your sisters...and please stay in the tower. I don't want to add to the risk of losing any of you again."

===============

Stephen woke with a groan, but it never made it past his lips. Duct tape was placed over his mouth and his hands were bound behind the back of the chair he was sitting in. His vision was blurry from the drugs he was taken down with and it took some extra blinking for the fuzziness to fade a bit and then find another man sitting in a chair across from him.

How long had he been sitting there? The entire time he was unconscious? He was cleaning some knives, so it was a big possibility.

"It's about time you woke up." His captor says. "Not that I'm really complaining. You're pretty nice to look at even when you sleep so it's no wonder Stark keeps you around." Stephen narrows his eyes and glares at the man, not faltering a bit when a knife is placed under his chin. "I'd tell you to use your words but I know all about your magic. Can't have you muttering incantations."

Stephen cringes when the man grabs his jaw and tilts his head so he can move just close enough that the sorcerer can feel his breath on his neck. He felt a new level of sympathy for what Scott went through when he was taken, but Stephen had a much smaller chance at being found when he remembered that he gave Tony his suit just that morning (or had a full day passed already?). He didn't have his suit, his phone was likely missing or destroyed, his sling ring was missing, and his hands were bound. He couldn't use his magic unless his hands were free, and the captor was smart enough to tape his mouth as well.

All that and Stephen didn't have a celestial that could see him either. It would take a miracle for him to be found because he knew for a fact the alleyway he portaled to didn't have a camera in it.

"I'll take the tape off if you promise to behave." The man whispers into his ear and Stephen shivers in disgust. The man took it as agreement and ripped the duct tape off of the sorcerer's mouth after backing away some, and Stephen groaned quietly at the brief sting. "I bet you're wondering why I took you in the first place."

Stephen seethes. "Among other things. You must be incredibly stupid to take me after what happened with Thanos."

Stephen was normally one who chose his words wisely before he spoke them, but this wasn't one of those times and his captor didn't take kindly to being called stupid. In fact, he backhanded Stephen without any warning and it had been hard enough to bust open the doctor's lip. Stephen didn't make any pained noises though. He just glared at the man again when he pressed the tip of his knife closer to Stephen's throat. This guy just sealed his doom by leaving physical evidence of harm on Stephen. If Tony found him, his husband was going to destroy this man.

"That isn't what I consider behaving." The man hisses and Stephen stops himself from swallowing as the blade would likely cut him if he did. "I've been watching the Avengers for a while now." He starts before moving away from the sorcerer again and taking his knife with him, letting Stephen breathe a little.

"You wouldn't be the first...and definitely not the last." Stephen snarks.

"I've been watching long enough to know that the one with actual authority is you."

"How in the world did you come up with that conclusion?" The doctor responds with feigned indifference.

"There's enough footage of the team and how they respond to you during battle...and I've gathered my own evidence." The man walks over to a nearby table and grabs a small stack of photos. "For example, I know the true identities of Spiderman and Rescue."

Stephen had to keep himself from reacting and giving his fear away. This man could easily be bluffing. He still didn't know what his objective was, but Stephen wasn't about to confirm his captor's assumptions if he didn't really have evidence. Even if he did, the sorcerer would try to play it off anyway.

When the man (who had continued to talk and introduced himself as Orion; Stephen figured it was a fake name) picked up the photos and showed them to Stephen, the doctor's mouth went dry. Pictures of each Avenger and of his kids. Including his daughters, Cassie, and the Barton kids. There were photos of Peter and Harley in their suits without their masks, some of the Avengers like Sam and Natasha out and about (which Stephen was surprised Natasha hadn't caught the man), Cassie and Diana on one of their regular shopping trips with a chaperone, and Orion even managed to get a picture of Valerie when Tony took her to work with him one day.

"This just makes you a typical stalker." Stephen manages to say evenly.

"You're the one that holds that team together, so I thought to myself...what would happen if I took the sorcerer out of the picture? How quickly would they fall apart?" Orion tosses the pictures back in the direction of the table and they scatter all over it and the floor.

"You overestimate my influence--"

"No. I really don't." The other man interrupts. "Even if I did, I would still wonder how far Stark would go to get you back. Maybe not enough to get the Accords rewritten again...so I wondered about the god." Stephen very minutely stiffens. "I'm not talking about the Asgardians either. I'm talking about the one that goes berserk. I know only one person can truly calm him down, but what if that person were to be taken...killed?"

Global destruction. Was that what Orion wanted? No, it couldn't be. Scott would have been the one taken, killed, if that was his objective. Stephen could only think that this was some revenge on Tony or the Avengers as a whole. Maybe he was trying to tear the team apart? Orion kept talking about Stephen's supposed authority over them.

"...then I thought of a better idea." Orion continues and the doctor realizes he hadn't stopped talking. "What better way to break the Avengers than to break you?"

Stephen gasps out in pain when his captor sinks one of his knives just deep enough into his thigh to make him bleed but not hit anything vital. Either Orion did his research or he was just giving Stephen a taste of what the future held for him. The blade stopped after a good few inches before the bloodied knife was held up to the sorcerer's face with a sickening smile on the face of the one holding it.

"I'll leave your pretty face for last."

Stephen shudders from the stinging in his leg. "I'm no stranger to torture or even death. I don't know what you're trying to get out of this, but if you think I'll beg for mercy, you've taken the wrong person."

"I can always take one of your children. Torture them in front of you until they scream. Maybe then you'll beg for mercy. It's up to you."

He felt himself paling at the mention of his kids. Stephen would rather die than let one of them be subject to this sick bastard's torture, and he knew that Tony would probably put them under house arrest, but Stephen would bet money that the boys would manage to slip out anyway. Especially once they knew their pseudo mother was kidnapped. He hoped that whatever deity was listening that he would somehow survive this so Peter and Harley didn't lose another parent. Another mother.

Yes, Stephen was a man and was put into the maternal position by Peter once upon a time, but it grew on him. He loved being that for his children, and he even stopped caring when the rest of the team called him some form of mom. He was so invested into the role that he couldn't imagine living his life without it. Without his kids, without the team...or without Tony. His past self would probably scoff at the very idea, but now Stephen had a family. A loud, obnoxious, annoying, and sigh-inducing one...but a family nonetheless.

The team had to be starting their search already.

Stephen still had to watch his kids grow up, especially Valerie since he brought her into this world, their family, so he could have a second chance to raise a child properly. He wanted to see Diana grow up and graduate, he wanted to see the boys take over Tony's company and continue to build it...and he wanted to spend every second he had left with Tony before death eventually took his husband away. Something that would hopefully happen from old age.

Tony had at least another twenty years, and Stephen was already causing the older man irritation by throwing away his hair dye or intercepting the order. The sorcerer loved the silver in his husband's hair and he had to make it through this so he can tell him that. No matter how much Tony might complain that he really was looking more and more like Stephen's sugar daddy.

He didn't care about any of that. He loved Tony for the heart of gold he had buried under the icy front he portrayed. His looks were just a bonus.

"What do you gain from all of this?" Stephen finally asks.

"When I break you, it will break the Avengers and the world will know they aren't as tough as they seem."

"Some of us may have powers but we're still human. We have emotions. We just know that if we panic then it can cause widespread panic."

"Which is why you're in for a very hard time. I will break you before they ever find us."

"You can try." Stephen challenges with another glare.

He was then promptly knocked out.

[bellygunnr]

all the world’s a stage

The Death Rogumer was not a large airship, but it was imposing in its own right. It glided through the air under a quarter of its power, ponderous at such a slow speed, clad in a royal purple and burnished gold regalia. Its name was inscribed along its bow which bulged out beneath the sword-like figurehead, a deadly aerial rapier. A giant lens, a contraption of glass and steel, rotated, extending, shifting until it could view the sprawling city unobstructed. The ship banked, rolling so gently in the air, exposing the electric cannons stationed on its slim upper deck. Steam hissed out from their rounded chassis as their barrels extended; red lights flashed for as long as the cannons turned to position, glowing solid green when their mark was found.

Their target was an elegant, conical skyscraper that made the city's skyline iconic, a legendary silhouette recognized by many. Its glass face shattered in the brutal wake of the cannon-barrage. More than plasma ammunition, shards burst from the half-ton shells, raining fire on the city below. These embers floated, descending, skipping through the air as the wind took them, then latched onto the ground and neighboring buildings, singular burning cinders where they did not ignite what was below them. Above, the skyscraper shuddered, failing to regain its strength when another two-gun barrage assaulted its broken flanks.

Its assailant circled the beaten structure, engines burning low and steady. The Death Rogumer no longer lumbered, but sauntered through the air, a circling shark awaiting the next opportunity to bite. Fire from the city below washed its sleek hull in a flickering orange glow. It banked again, settled onto an even keel-- and exploded.

A fin on its starboard side burst apart from the inside. The explosion rocked the airship simultaneously with cannon fire-- the combined inertia saw the ship plummet, flaming from its open hull, a main engine going up with it. Yet, as quickly as the inferno began, all was smothered, choked out by thick white foam and a flood of emergency drones from within. The Death Rogumer shuddered violently, shaking off the wound, and struggled into a climb.

The ascent was slow. It clawed its way back to a cool, safe three thousand, above the skyscraper which was now collapsing in on itself, and above the city, terrified but alive. There was a pronounced list to the airship. The repair drones broke from their duties to latch onto the battered decks, miniature motors whining, straining, a dozen or so contributors against a starboard tilt. The airship heaved.

The airship limped.

-

While the center of the city burned, the rest ground to a standstill. Jumbo-Trons and billboards flickered, the now-familiar warning message disappearing. The repetitive emergency instructions played alongside city sirens died down to a low, vibrating buzz, an oppressive hum that choked the ears and numbed the brain. The sound permeated the tons of concrete and steel as to be felt in the bones of various underground shelters.

One such shelter thrummed ominously. Marcus looked up from his book, eyes flicking from his companions to the open doorway to the television screen, suddenly alive with static. He watched it apprehensively, wincing when the intercom system blared. The speakers clicked rapidly, like gunshots.

The thrum died down. The shelter stopped shaking, as did their bones, and the screen warped colorfully. When it recovered, Marcus was staring at slightly grainy footage--

"That's the airship! It has to be!" Marcus cried, shocked. The airship had been popular before the Maverick War; its decks were as familiar to him as they were to Storm Eagle. "What's happening? How are they doing this?"

The footage flickered. When it returned, it was much clearer, and audio tuned in with it. Whistling gales played over the intercom, but Marcus found it as abrasive as the feedback, if not worse.

-

The explosion had knocked X into a titanium door, jamming up his shoulder. The damaged joint creaks and grinds in his ear as he clambers up a narrow ladder chute, pushing himself off the upper rung and onto the ship's prow. A shadow is already cast across the deck and he's mildly glad for it-- the sun is blazing overhead, bright and uncaring. He knows it would have blinded him if not for the ship's secondary rudder.

It also helps that Storm Eagle is the one blotting out the sun , X thinks dimly.

The former Commander holds himself aloft, a combined effort between gallant purple wings and dual shoulder-mounted rockets. He's intimidating, always has been, but now he also makes X feel sickened-- this is not the same Reploid he met as a rookie Maverick Hunter.

But it is , a voice whispers. You don't know if he was infected or merely defected.

X shakes off the thought.

"You've damaged the Death Rogumer . You must know that we'll be lucky to crash land outside of city limits, yes?" Storm Eagle calls, his voice reedy, a thin whistle to it. "No matter. The only acceptable death is one found in combat!"

Storm Eagle dives down. The sun flares out, brilliant, and X's face aches as his optics work double time to compensate. He dashes across the deck, clearing it in one, but as he twists around to face his adversary, he's already within seconds of blowing him away. X stumbles more than rolls out of the way as Storm Eagle's wings threaten to cleave him in two.

When he pops back up, it is with his buster blazing, yellow plasma tracking Storm Eagle across the platform. He sights crackles of satisfying smoke; his buster hums, residual plasma beginning to gather around the mouth of the barrel.

"I see you've improved!" Storm Eagle says, laughing, a sound punctuated by chirps. "But you're still just a rookie."

-

The first attack had been close. Marcus paws at hands grasping his arm, prying the clutch grip off. He can feel his heartbeat in his chest, an overwhelming sense of anxiety stealing him. None of this moment made sense-- the footage, the rattling terror in their bones, or the clash of Reploids above a burning city.

It didn't make sense.

But it was hope.

-

The charged shot is timed well, in X's opinion. Storm Eagle's gale rips across the platform, plying at the tips of his boots as he leaps above the focused stream, but his shoulder jolts at the recoil. The shot, aimed for the other's open chest, flies wide. X hardly has time to brace himself as he falls back into the wind tunnel, fingers tearing at metal.

The gust dissipates around him. X slumps against the deck, relieved, but is violently reminded of his situation when massive, vice-like talons clamp around his torso. His skeleton creaks as Storm Eagle squeezes and lofts him into the air.

"Perhaps this is dishonorable, but you left yourself open, Maverick Hunter X!"

His body lurches, and then there is nothing but open air and pain.

-

Marcus cries out in alarm as he watches the battle. Had it been too much to hope? Had their naivety tipped the scales out of the blue Reploid's favor? It was agonizing. X fell through the sky, disappearing from view in only seconds, but it felt like years.

"He can't die here! We need you, X!" Marcus exclaims, but it was mostly to himself.

-

X descends, but not as far as God or Storm Eagle intended him to.

He descends, but his body is skidding the surface of the wounded Death Rogumer , and it's enough for his boots to find purchase. With no small amount of strain, X kicks against the bruised hull of the ship and goes the only direction available to him-- up.

-

Storm Eagle is walking off the platform at a casual stride. Grief and dread sit heavy in Marcus' heart. It sits heavy in all their hearts.

"He's not dead, he can't be. We need him," someone says, and Marcus can't help but agree, bowing his head.

"He's not dead! Look! Mega Man!"

-

X walks across the deck unopposed-- for the most part. He fights the slanting, listing deck, his eyes hardening as he understands this to be a ship in her death throes. His time was running out.

"Storm Eagle!" X shouts, throwing his arms wide open, gasping as his shoulder wrenches. "I lived! Can't we work something out?"

The former Commander turns, one hand on the door to the ship's cabin. His beak drops open in surprise, eyes wide underneath his golden mask. X stares back unflinchingly, knowing that he must be quite a sight.

"No one has to die," X continues, plaintive.

The Death Rogumer groans.

"What of Chill Penguin, then?" Storm Eagle replies.

-

The fight is on again.

The fight is knife's edge close, a toe-to-toe stand between a stowaway and a corsair.

The camera shakes sometimes, revealing how bad off the ship is in fits and bursts. Marcus watches Storm Eagle make sweeping dives at X, but each time he zooms away, a feather is plucked, shearing off in a smoldering heap.

"He's doing so much better!"

"He must have found his stride..."

"You can do this, X! Mega Man!"

-

X goes up in light. When the light fades, his armor is a paler hue, bodysuit a bold yellow. He continues to track Storm Eagle across the sky, pacing the platform, buster vibrating with a suppressed charge shot.

He watches as the Eagle wings around, flight now a wobbly, barely sustained trajectory toward his target. It's enough for X to level his buster, optics shrinking as he locks in-- the small of Storm Eagle's back, the rocket pack--

Arctic cold floods X's circuits as he looses his shot. A barbed mound of ice soars through the air, followed by a rapid-fire burst of ice shards.

The Death Rogumer shudders underfoot.

X's feet slide out from under him.

Storm Eagle crashes unceremoniously into the stern of his own flagship.

-

"He got him! X did it!"

"He did it! X really is a Mega Man!"

-

The Death Rogumer breaks apart. X finally plummets, his body going slack as he clears the fractured deck.

If the camera aboard the ship had still been rolling, then all those watching could have seen Mega Man X weep.

[supernatural-book]

Ghosts That We Knew

Title: Ghosts That We Knew

Summary: Dean’s girlfriend was a virgin, and he was always patient with her. Until he turned into a demon. When Dean regains his humanity, he has no memory of what he did. (Set a few weeks after Dean become human again and, even though the Mark still remains, things are going back to “normal”).

Warnings: (THIS IS A DARK ONE. Don’t read unless you’re sure nothing in here will be a trigger)  rape, violence, Deanmon is a fucking horrible person, major guilt, and self-hatred but it ends in angsty fluff. (there’s also a big, bold warning in the story before the bad part, so you’ll know when to skip.) I didn’t mean for this one to get so long but I got really invested in it and I’m really proud of it, despite the horrible things that happen in it. Also, it took me so many times to try and edit this thing before actually posting.

Word Count: 6,790 (ish, my longest fic so far!)

“So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light. Cause oh, that gave me such a fright. But I will hold as long as you like. Just promise me we’ll be alright.”

-Ghosts That We Knew, Mumford and Sons

You were scared of him- the man you loved- and it felt horrible. 

Dean was always so patient with you, especially when it came to sex. When you first admitted it being a virgin in the middle of a heated moment, he immediately stopped and promised that he'd wait until you were ready. After that, he’d never even tried to do anything more than you were comfortable with. Sometimes he would jokingly whine about it: “Oh, sweetheart,” he’d murmur into your skin while cuddling with you one night. “You love making me wait, don’t you?” This being said, he still held back. He always followed up with: “But when that time comes, all that built-up pressure…  Oh, it'll be worth it. So I’ll wait for you, baby.” For you. He was always the absolute sweetest.

That's why you were so scared when you learned he became a demon- a knight of Hell. From the very first time you saw him after his death- the surveillance footage of Dean killing a man with the first blade- you knew all of his morals had gone out the window. You and Sam had only managed to capture him for a week before he escaped the dungeon. That's when he attacked you. Cas managed to get him back into the dungeon while Sam helped you recover from the worst night of your life. The feeling of utter betrayal and disgust was unimaginable. But you knew it wasn’t Dean. It was a monster. 

A week later, he was cured, and the three of you took a few more weeks off from hunting. Even though you were there when he was cured- in fact, you watched as the light came back to his crystal green eyes- you still couldn't bring yourself to forget what he did. And no one could blame you. 

Now, a full month after the incident, the three of you were traveling in the dead of night, heading to a new hunt just like the good old days. Apparently, three girls had ended up dead within the span of a week, all in the same way. The news described it as an “apparent sacrificial murder”. It seemed like it could be related to something supernatural, so you decided to check it out. Sam was asleep, and it was only you and Dean and the rumble of the engine. You could practically feel his eyes flicking up to look at you in the mirror every now and then as he drove. Usually, you would use this time to talk with Dean cheekily about things Sam didn't need to hear. But now, you were doing everything in your power to avoid him. Your plan was soiled when Dean spoke up, nearly catching your gaze in the rearview mirror.

"You should get some sleep, you know. It'll be a while." 

"I'll be alright." You didn't meet his eyes. To be honest, you were still too unnerved to fall asleep in his presence. 

"Alright." It was obvious that Dean could tell you were avoiding him, but he never pressed as to why you had been so much more distant than Sam after his time as a demon. You were his girlfriend, he figured- so it would obviously have a different effect on you than Sam.

The moment he came back from being a demon, you were the first one he saw. He caught the look in your eyes and knew you weren't going to recover any time soon. Dean knew it took you a while to recover after certain hunts, and this was much, much more than just a hunt. Your boyfriend- the man you were closest to- had become a monster. It had emotionally strained you, so of course you'd take a while to recover. Later, he learned that he had tried to kill his own brother. God, he was so ashamed- he hated himself- but Sammy seemed to have forgiven him, But, whatever he did to you must have been worse. He never thought that you would continue to grow away from him, further and further every day. At first, you had tried your hardest to talk with him. He never pushed- never. But eventually, you had stopped trying, and even went out of your way to avoid seeing him at all. 

You were slipping away from him. And he was scared that one day he’d wake up and you'd be completely gone.

Dean finally refocused on the road in front of him, trying to push out of his mind all that might’ve happened and you continued to look out the window, getting lost in the scenes flying past and replaying the memories of that horrible night in your head.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Sam call for you from the bunker’s dungeon, where Dean had been receiving blood treatments. ‘Oh, God’. You turned, hurrying to find the younger Winchester. You find him in the halls, visibly terrified but relieved to find you. Immediately, you put two and two together.

“Is Dean out?”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart stopped momentarily. Sam handed you a knife, noticing the look on your face. “God, I hope you don’t have to use that, but you can at least slow him down if he corners you. Just in case.” Before you could respond, a familiar voice rang through the halls.

“Sammy! (Y/N)! Come on, guys. Let’s have some fun!” Sam and you met each other’s eyes in fear, and he pulled you through the hallway with him, away from the voice.

“I’m going to get the keys to the control room and shut off the power. You should probably hide somewhere. Lock the door. Just- avoid him. You think you’ll be alright on your own?” 

“Yeah. I’ll survive.” He gave you a quick nod and rushed off, while you took cover in a random “guest room”. It wasn’t long before the power went out, replaced by the red emergency lights. 

And then you heard him.

You stayed awake until the Impala was parked outside a motel with only a few hours of darkness left. You promptly ran in and claimed a bed to yourself, almost immediately passing out as Sam pulled Dean aside. "Dean, you've gotta sleep in the car."

"What?" 

"The room only has two beds, and I don't think (Y/N) is ready to sleep in the same bed as you yet. Maybe not even in the same room." Dean couldn't help the paranoid feeling that ran through him at the thought of his brother and girlfriend sharing a room, but he knew that you were still shaken up and avoiding him, so he agreed, despite how much it hurt. 

"Has (Y/N) been acting weird, or is it just me?" When he was met by silence, he knew he had put his brother in an uncomfortable position. "What happened?" Sam only shook his head in apology.

"I know you’re worried about her, but I can’t say anything. You'll have to ask her about it. I'm sworn to secrecy." 

While Dean was taking a shower, out of earshot, Sam caught your attention quietly. “(Y/N), I don’t want to pressure you into telling Dean about… the incident, but he’s been asking. It’s been killing him. He still loves you, you know. And, if you ask me, he at least deserves to know why you’ve been avoiding him. He doesn’t remember, and he’s so worried.” You only smiled woefully. You knew that you’d have to tell him eventually, and it’s already been a month. 

“I know Sam. I just don't know how to tell him.”

“I know. I get it. You don’t have to tell him yet if you’re not comfortable, but I know you still both love each other, and you’ll have to eventually, you know.”

“I know.”

The next day, the three of you were up early in the morning, dressed in your FBI garb and ready to prod at corpses at the coroner’s office. After you had asked to look at the bodies, the officers left, and the three of you immediately looked for a connection between the girls. “Okay,” you started, cautiously prodding at the girl's skin. “Didn’t see anything about this in the news article…” Sam and Dean looked over and noticed the same thing. Each of the girls had a different symbol carved into their skin, right in the middle of their chests. Why the officers didn’t mention the symbols earlier, who knows. The symbols themselves were different, but they were obviously of the same language or script. 

“Good eye, sweetheart.” Dean’s gentle pet name and the adoring smirk that played on his lips sent a shock of memories through your body, but you sent a small, forced smile his way. 

“Sweetheart.” You had to suppress a scream, hearing his honey-sweet, singsongy voice in the hallway right outside the room. “Come on, baby, I know you’re here! Don’t you want some sweet, sweet loving from your dear boyfriend?” You heard his footsteps right outside the room and held your breath, praying to anything that would listen that he’d keep walking. His steps were slow and drawn out, echoing off the walls of the hallway. 

And then they stopped. 

You froze. Maybe he’ll keep walking soon if he doesn’t find out you’re here. Hopeful thinking. And then, with a painfully loud crash, the door was kicked in. You couldn’t stop the scream that ripped through you. 

There, standing at the broken-in door, was Dean. ‘No, no no.’ You told yourself. ‘This isn’t Dean, not the Dean I know’. 

“There you are, baby. The smirk that tore across his face was sickening. You tried to look strong, standing up straighter and holding your knife in front of you.

“Get away from me.” 

“Aw, (Y/N), (Y/N), we both know you won’t do anything with that.” He took another cocky step forward, pressing the knife to his own throat tauntingly. “Do it. Kill me.” For the first time since he became what he is, you locked eyes. It’s the same green you remember seeing when you would gaze up at him after a passionate kiss, but there was something missing. His eyes were devoid of love, of humanity. The look there just confirmed your fear: this wasn’t the man you love. If these treatments don’t work… he’s gone. Maybe forever this time.

When you don’t move, he grabs your wrist roughly and tosses your knife on the ground. You snap out of your thoughts when you hear it clatter and you immediately regret your decision. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against the wall by a firm body, a body you remember as being kind and warm, and a shiver of fear runs through you. 

“Oh, we’re gonna have fun, aren’t we sweetheart?” 

That afternoon, the three of you split up to talk to each of the victims’ families. Luckily, they were all in the same neighborhood, so it didn’t talk long to do it. You agreed to each take one of the families and meet up at the Impala when it was over.

Seeing the victim’s grieving families was always your least favorite part of the hunt. The confusion and fear and pain they felt that comes with losing someone without warning had always been so hard for you to see. But now, it was even worse. After losing Dean not even a year ago and having him come back as a demon and do… unforgivable things to you, you knew exactly what it felt like. 

The talk with the victim’s tearful family didn’t take long. Apparently, the young girl was coming home from some late-night church group one night when she went missing. You wondered if the other girls were also pure, virgin, churchgoers. 

With a good idea of when and where the kidnapping happened, maybe even why it happened, you headed back to the Impala and saw that Sam and Dean were waiting. “(Y/N).” Dean smiled when he saw you. It was so, so like him to keep trying to stay happy for you when you were obviously avoiding him. “So, what do we got?” You sucked in a breath and realized that you can’t avoid him anymore.

“Well, she was a good kid. Churchgoer, virgin. She was taken while coming home from church. That’s about the gist of it.” 

“Huh. Yeah, I talked to the other girl’s boyfriend. Virgin.”

“Guess we found out what they have in common. They were all virgins.” Sam confirms. 

“I’m thinking maybe they were taken for some sort of virgin sacrifice. I don’t know what type of monster goes after virgin except for dragons. Maybe someones sacrificing them to some sort of deity?” 

“Alright.” You notice Dean sent a proud smile your way. It’s not uncommon for him to do this after you’ve helped them on a case. He always did his best to make you feel appreciated, and it always sent a flush of color to your cheeks when he was proud of you. “Who wants some food?” He saw the incredulous look Sam gave him and continued. “Hey, dude, I’m hungry. We didn't even have breakfast. We can do our researching in a diner over some burgers, can’t we?” 

And so, you headed out to a nearby diner to grab some food and do some research. The car ride was just as quiet as the other night, with Sam scrolling on his phone, probably already researching, and you were still not talking. Dean watched you quietly in the rearview mirror, with a concerned gaze. He didn’t want to push you into talking to him, but he was getting so scared that something bad happened to you while he was a demon. Maybe you’re still just trying to understand that he’s human again. Dean tried every single day to remind you that he’s himself again- the Dean that would hold you close at night, the Dean that would patch you up after a rough hunt, the Dean that was always so gentle and caring towards you. But nothing worked. You were slipping away from him more and more every day, and he was scared that one day he’d wake up and you’d be gone.

In the diner, your subconscious took over and you scooted into the booth right beside Dean- just like you used to. You saw Dean smile out of the corner of your eye and looked up at him with an uncertain smile. You had no idea why you did that, you haven’t been this close to him in so long. But by this point, it was just muscle memory.

But it felt so right.

For the majority of the time you sat together in the diner, there was a lighter, less dense air between the three of you. You and Dean chatted almost casually as if you were still the friends and lovers you were before. It almost felt as if things had gone back to normal as if the things Dean did to you never happened. 

"So that’s our plan? We’re just gonna march in there and hopefully catch the guy red-handed? " Sam had found a type of deity that could be summoned using virgins and certain symbols, and it seemed likely that this was what was happening. He’d suggested the three of you stake out at the church and watch the girls leave, hopefully find the guy and jump him. You just shrugged. The three of you have been through worse. “Alright. I’m down.” Dean let out an unamused chuckle and looked down at you like you were crazy.

“You’re joking, right?” You and Sam exchanged a glance. The moment you realized that the hunt included virgin sacrifices, you knew this would come up. “No, (Y/N), there’s no way you can come with. Sorry about the TMI, Sammy, but I’m not letting this virgin obsessed guy get her.”

“Dean…” You started. 

“And before you volunteer to be bait, no. I’m not risking it. Not after every fucked up thing that’s happened to us recently-”

“It wouldn’t work, anyway.” You muttered under your breath. 

“Huh?” Dean went silent, not sure what you had muttered, and focused all his attention on you.

“I’m not a virgin.” You barely raised your voice, but this time he heard. Dean’s face scrunched up in confusion. “So using me as bait wouldn’t work anyway. He won’t come after me. So I can go on the hunt.” 

“Ooookay, I’m gonna wait in the car.” Sam got up slowly, laying down a couple of bills for his food and throwing you a reassuring smile that seemed to say ‘You got this’.You watched as he left the diner, before gathering yourself together and realizing just how close you were sitting to Dean. You scooted away from him but still found yourself suffocatingly close. Too close.

Way too close.

“(Y/N).” His voice was so low, so firm, but not yet angry. He just wanted to know what happened to the innocent, sweet (Y/N) that wanted to save herself for him. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean I…” You shifted uncomfortably in the booth, throat suddenly tight and mind hazed over in fear. “I’m not a virgin.” 

“Did you... did you lie about being one before?”

“No. I- I was one.” You would give anything to run out of that diner and not have to face this conversation. You’ve never seen Dean quite as upset as he was now. What was that emotion? You couldn’t quite place it. Anger- maybe, but masked behind sadness and confusion. And the betrayal…

“You were. But now you’re not. Did you… did you cheat on me?” His voice raised at the end in accusation and his eyes narrowed, trying to find any hint of an answer on your face. He was getting angry. It was the Mark. It was just the Mark making him react this way. You opened your mouth to choke out a quick answer, but froze completely when his hand roughly found your wrist under the table. “(Y/N), answer me!” He growled at you. Growled. That was the breaking point. You pulled away from his touch as hard as you could and jumped up quickly, almost knocking a waitress over. You apologized profusely before running out of the diner, not even looking back at Dean, and trying to calm yourself of the memories running through your mind. 

*** Potentially Triggering Content Below ***

“We’re gonna have fun, aren’t we, sweetheart?” And his lips were on yours. It was like before. It wasn’t unlike Dean to kiss you as deeply- and sometimes even as roughly- as this. For a moment, you forgot that this wasn’t your Dean. But you turned your head away, trying to break the kiss, You’ve wanted Dean for so long. You’ve wanted to feel Dean’s hands all over your body. But not like this.

Never like this. 

This wasn’t the Dean you knew. Not the Dean that promised to be gentle and slow when it came time to finally sleep together. No. This monster was rough, fast and uncaring. But to see Dean’s body, to feel his hands on your skin… It was too much.

And you hated yourself for being turned on by it. 

You pushed against him, trying to resist him, but he was a demon. He was stronger than you. It was basically hopeless. But yet, you tried your best to kick and push at him. You put your hands on his shoulders and tried to push him back. It was hard to hit him when this was still Dean’s body. 

“Oh, you like to put up a fight, baby? How cute.” 

“Stop it!” You pushed aside your hesitations and threw a fist towards his beautiful face. Barely flinching, he grabbed your jaw roughly with one hand, pinned your wrists together with the other and forced you to look at him. His eyes had gone black, and he was- to put it simply- terrifying. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me, you black-eyed dick.” You had momentarily gotten him to stop what he was doing, but you soon realized that your plan didn’t work like you thought it would. 

“Oh, I plan to, bitch.” You’d never heard Dean call you a bitch or anything bad for that matter. For some reason, it hurt so much hearing it come from his lips, in his voice. Not wasting any time, his hand slid under your shirt and grabbed at your breasts roughly. You tried to ignore the feeling of his hands groping you, and forced yourself to look at him, trying a different approach. 

“Dean, please. I know you’re there somewhere. The real you. You don’t have to do this.” 

“Oh ho, that’s your plan?” He seemed amused, taking a glance at your scared expression. “Sweet talking me out of it? Well, hate to break it to you, but this is the real me.” 

That’s when you felt it. 

Dean was hard, pressing himself against your inner thigh. His hand traveled down your arm and unbuttoned your jeans. You weren’t sure if it was his demonic powers or just pure shock that was keeping you from moving, but no matter how much you wanted to, you were frozen in place. “I can’t believe how long you made me wait for this. Don’t you think you owe me something? What kind of worthless excuse of a girlfriend are you that you can’t even give your boyfriend sex?” 

“No. You’re not Dean. Dean would never do this.” He knew just what to say to hurt you. You had worried about being a bad girlfriend ever since you told Dean you were a virgin. Though you felt bad for asking Dean to take it slow, he always reminded you that you weren’t a burden to make him wait. So, despite how difficult it was, you pushed his words out of your mind, trying not to let them get to you. His hand was suddenly grabbing you in places no one has ever touched, slipping a finger inside of you. You hated yourself for how turned on you were, considering the circumstances. “Get the fuck off!” Your voice failed you, and Dean laughed. 

“You’re so turned on, sweetheart.” You hated it. Absolutely hated that he was calling you sweetheart. You used to love when he called you sweetheart. Now, it was a curse. He said it mockingly, spitting on your relationship. His fingers pumped harder. “You want this. You’ve waited for this for a while, haven’t you? You’ve touched yourself thinking of me.” He yanked your pants down only far enough to gain access. 

“No. Not of you.” You thrashed against his hold again.

“You’re not going anywhere.” you felt him grind against your now naked lower half and panic rose in your throat. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” You feel him reposition you against the wall and knew what was coming. You tried your hardest to kick at him and only found yourself frozen in place. “Stop!” You thrashed against his hold and he only held you tighter as he pushed into you. He moved roughly, giving you no time to adjust- not that that would be any better, anyway. 

“Stop talking!” 

So you gave up. With hot tears streaming down your face, you closed your eyes so that you wouldn't have to see Dean's face and just waited, prayed for it to be over. Before you knew it, Dean’s body was ripped from yours and you were falling into someone’s arms. “Holy shit. (Y/N). I've got you. Breath.” You remember feeling Sam cover you up with a blanket without looking at your exposed body and holding you while Castiel pulled Dean away to the dungeon. You remember feeling Castiel’s grace wash over you gently, helping your body recover from the violation. They were so kind and cautious to you during this time and made sure not to even speak of Dean in your presence. But when the time came, a week later- you told them you wanted to watch him come back to this world.

And you did.  

It felt like you had been making progress with Dean in the recent days. You had talked to him more than you have all month, and you even sat next to him and almost leaned onto his shoulder. But now that was all over. Here you were again in the backseat of the Impala, once again not speaking to Dean, and this time bruised and bloody.

The hunt went south quickly. Turns out, the “monster” that you were hunting was just some stupid guy who wanted to summon a demon. Well, not like he knew, but killing these virgins was not the way to do it. In fact, he managed to summon an age-old deity who wanted to kill. This guy's fourth victim was already dead, but by summoning this monster he had nearly doomed the whole town. Luckily, the three of you had improvised and managed to send the deity back where it came from. Dean, still plagued by the Mark of Cain, had obviously been taking his anger out on the monster and, in the end, killed the man who had summoned it as well. The scariest thing about the night was how unphased Dean was with killing. 

So now, you sat in the back of the Impala, tears streaming down your face silently and pretending to be asleep so that Dean wouldn’t try to talk to you about it. Your shoulder was hurt during the hunt and you’d surely have some bruises forming but, other than that and the emotional trouble you were going through, you were unharmed. The moment the car pulled into the bunker’s garage, you knew Dean would want to carry you inside like he always did when you were asleep after hunts, and you couldn’t handle that right now. As soon as he parked, you were out, running into the bunker and to your bedroom. 

You locked the door to your room, shed your bloodied jacket and immediately dropped onto your bed, pressing your face into your pillow. You couldn’t show it earlier, but after your conversation with Dean in the diner and seeing him go all Mark of Cain on the monster earlier, you were worried about what he would say to you. He thought you cheated on him. It would be easier for him to handle that lie than the truth to what really happened.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” You barely heard the voice on the other side of the door. It was Dean. As much as you wanted to crumble into his arms and cry, you also didn’t want to face him. 

“I’m fine.” 

“That’s gotta be the least convincing thing I’ve ever heard.” You heard a small, somber chuckle and smiled. That was just like Dean. “Come on, (Y/N). I’m not angry at you. I just... I wanna see you. Please?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the sincerity that you had so often used to ground yourself when you were scared. This was your Dean again. He was back. He wasn’t a demon and you didn’t need to be scared of him anymore. So you stood up and opened the door. There he stood, looking down at you with a sad smile and holding a steaming cup of tea in his hands. "I made you that tea you like." He handed it over to you and motioned to your bed. “Can I come in?”

“Okay.” You backed up, still keeping your eyes on him while you sat back on your bed, crossing your legs underneath you and pulling the blanket up around you, cupping your drink between your palms. Dean closed the door to your room gently behind him and sat beside you on your bed, hands balled into fists on his thighs.

“It’s… weird to have separate rooms, don’t you think?” His smile held no happiness as he looked around at the decor you had taken out of your shared room and added here. Last he remembered, you slept in his room. Hell, most of his stuff probably still smelled like you. But ever since he became a demon, you’d retreated to the room you had before you started dating him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty different.” An air of somber silence fell over the two of you for a few moments, before Dean spoke up again. 

“Okay, look…” His smile dropped and he faced you with a serious look. “In the diner earlier… I 

overreacted. I’m sorry for grabbing you.” He went to hold your hand gently but paused when you again flinched away from him. He pulls his hand away, balling it up on his fist again. There’s a visible pain in his eyes when he meets yours. “I… I’ve been thinking, and I’m not angry anymore. I don’t care if you slept with someone else while I was gone. It’s selfish of me to want to keep you for myself when I’m not even here for you. Hell, to be honest, I probably slept around a lot.” He paused, shaking his head as if he were ashamed. “But if you’re willing to look past that fact, so am I.” 

“Dean…” You couldn’t figure out what to say. Where could you start? 

“But, (Y/N), please tell me what’s wrong. Ever since I've come back, you've been… distant. You’re… you’re flinching every time I move. I hate seeing you so withdrawn. So scared of me. I'm so, so fucking scared that I'm going to wake up one day and you'll have left." He stopped talking when you reached out and hesitantly lifted up his hand in yours. You focused your attention on his hand, rubbing circles over his palm and feeling the rough pads of his fingers, before tangling your fingers through his. The warmth of his skin traveled from his hand to yours and, once again, you were reminded of just how human he was again.

"Dean. Dean." Your voice wavered, and soon you were sobbing his name quietly, head bowed in front of him and holding his hand in yours. "Dean…"

"(Y/N)." Dean lowered his face to meet your eyes, trying his best to smile reassuringly at you. But it wasn’t easy to reassure when neither of you was sure about anything " Baby, please tell me the truth. About everything. I can tell there's something I don't remember and it's killing me, baby. I don't like seeing you hurt and not knowing how to help." You lean into him and cry silently on his shoulder. 

"Dean I'm so scared." Dean let you cry for a moment, and he didn't try to hug you, despite how much he wanted to. Then, you looked up at him. He looked so, so hurt. A face as beautiful as his should never, never look so broken. A man as amazing as him should never feel anything less than happy. "Dean, I'm not going to try to... slip away into the night. Never. Okay? But. I'm just so scared. Yeah, something did happen, and I am still a little scared of you. But I'm not giving up on us." 

"So it was me? I did something?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you did." You took a breath and tugged your blanket tighter around you. "You did something. And sometimes, when I see you, I think you're still a demon. And I get scared." 

"I hurt you?" You nodded. "I hurt you. Shit." Dean sucked in a breath and looked away, rubbing his hands over his face and trying to gather himself. Dean always had a problem with feeling guilty and beating himself up whenever you or Sam got hurt on a hunt, even if it wasn't his fault. He'd hide away in his room with a bottle of liquor and drink the night away, and he'd come to you in the morning and wrap himself around you, apologizing and promising he'd never let you get hurt again. You couldn't imagine how he feels knowing he was the one who hurt you. "Shit. I'm so sorry. Did- did I hurt you so bad that earlier today you thought I would hurt you again? Because of your, ah, virginity?" 

"Wait, Dean. That's something else I need to clear up." You looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red. "About my virginity. Well, actually, who took it." Dean watched you gently for a moment before shaking his head.

"You really don't need to tell me." 

"I do, though."

"Well, I don't know them, do I? Cause that would just be awkward." He gave a weak smile, trying to lighten the situation. You looked down at his hand, still in yours, and tried to piece together your sentences. But then Dean spoke up, hesitant and careful as he looked into your eyes for any sign of an answer. "(Y/N), do you… still love me? Or do you want to be with them instead?"

"No, Dean. I-."

"I would understand if you wanted to leave. I won't try to stop you. In fact-" 

"Dean, stop." You couldn't take it any longer. With tears once again streaming out of your eyes, you ducked your head and rested it on his shoulder. "Dean, it was you. When you were a demon." 

"What?" Dean seemed to take a moment to piece together all the things you had told him. "I'm the one who…?" Then he pulled back from you, trying to gauge your emotions to figure out if what he thought was true. “No.” You watched all the emotions play on his face, his eyes widening and his lips parting as he tried to understand what that meant. He finally seemed to process what he'd done, and stood from the bed, pacing the room and rubbing his hands over his face. "No." When he finally moved his hands away, you could see his eyes were red and wet- he'd been crying silently. 

"Please don't cry." 

"Don't-?" Dean cut himself off, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. He couldn't even bring himself to look at you. "(Y/N), how am I supposed to do that? I-" his voice cracked and he looked down at the floor. "How can you even stand being near me? After… after that? After I…" He rubbed his hand over his face again and mumbled. “Son of a bitch…”

And then he was gone, rushing out of the room as if he needed to get away from you.

And you went after him after a moment, following him through the hall and watching as he pushed the door to his room open and let his fist fly into the wall. You had to suppress a yelp from tearing through you. The Mark on his arm glowed, and you had to calm yourself down. This is my Dean. He doesn’t want to hurt me. That’s why he ran out. By the time you phased back into reality, he had already pushed the lamp off his bedside table and knocked the things off of the shelf above his bed. You couldn’t believe he was wrecking his bedroom like this. The bedroom he was so happy to finally have when we moved here. The bedroom that must have felt so empty ever since you stopped sleeping next to him. 

“Dean…”  

“Leave.” He growled, grabbing his arm and clenching his right hand into a fist as if trying to suppress the angry Mark. His back was to you, but you could see his head was bowed and his shoulders slumped. He looked so… small. “(Y/N), if you don’t leave, I’ll leave. I’ll go far away until the Mark is gone, somewhere where I can’t hurt you.” He turned towards the doorway and his eyes caught yours. He immediately seemed ashamed that he'd broken down like that in front of you, and tore his eyes away from you, staring straight ahead instead and finding his own eyes staring back at him in the mirror.

"Dean, we need to talk." 

"What is there to talk about? I hurt you. I r…" Dean took a breath, steadying himself on the small sink under his mirror. His voice shook in fear of what he was about to say. "I raped you.” You watched his face twist into anger as he stared at himself in the mirror. You couldn’t stand watching him hate himself.

“Dean…” you tried to get his attention, but it seemed like he was too far gone. You jumped back when his fist crashed to the mirror, shattering his reflection into a million pieces. He took a few steps backwards and sat down at the foot of his bed, sucking in deep breaths and tears running down his face. It seemed like he had calmed down, at least enough to talk with you, so you hesitantly took a seat next to him. “Dean. Please.” No matter how awkward it was to be so close to him again, he needed comfort, and you weren’t just going to sit here and watch him cry. You moved your hands to cup his face and pulled him down to rest on your shoulder, dragging your fingers across his scalp like you knew he loved. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” He murmured it to you over and over like a mantra, as if it would make everything alright again. After a few minutes, he pulled away and looked down at you with watery green eyes. “Why don’t you hate me for this?” 

“I could never hate you. It hurts, yeah, and sometimes it’s hard to be close to you. But I still love you.” A tiny smile started to lift the corners of Dean’s lips, but he pushed it away. 

“Don’t just brush this off like it was nothing.”

“I’m not brushing it off. Dean, you weren’t… you. You were a demon. Trust me, if the circumstances were different, and we were normal, I would have left because of that. But we’re hunters- we have a fucked up life. You were literally a demon.  I’m not going to blame the man I love for something he couldn’t control.” You leaned over, resting your head against his bicep, remembering how you used to do this all the time. “I’ve spent this whole month trying my best to move forward from it. I thought today I… I ripped the bandaid off, ya know? Don’t put it back on.” Dean was quiet for a moment before finally letting a small smile lift his beautiful lips.

“You really forgive me for this?”

“I never blamed you. But, I don’t know if I’ll ever forget about it. I love you. I just… still see a demon sometimes when I look at you. You’ll have to be patient with me.” You laughed bitterly before looking back up at him. “I think part of the reason I avoided you was so that I wouldn’t have to tell you what happened. ‘Cause I’m trying to forget about it. I really want to look past this. I want to be comfortable around you again. I want to hug you again. I want to kiss you again, Dean.” 

“Can I… hug you?” 

“Please.” Slowly, tantalizingly, he wrapped his big arms around you, pulling you into his chest and tucking your head under his chin. You arms found their way under his jacket, closer to the warmth of his body. You nuzzled your face into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent for the first time in months and feeling his fingers glide through your hair gently. This was Dean. God, this was the same Dean who you’d lost months ago. Wrapped up all warm and cozy against his chest, you became hyper-aware of your heart and his beating against each other- a soft rhythm in the otherwise quiet room. “We’ll get through this. I know we will.”

“(Y/N), I’m so, so sorry for all of this. I miss you. God, I miss you so much. I’ll wait for you, forever, if I have to. I just need you to promise me we’ll be alright.”

“Dean, I promise. Just hold on for me, baby.”

“As long as you need.” And he did.

So yeah, the ghost of this memory might leave you hurting for a while, but you’ll be damned if you’re gonna let that stop you from loving Dean. You and Dean both knew how to kill ghosts, so it didn’t stand a chance against your love. Soon, it would flicker from view, and then...

...then, you’ll live a long life with the man who you always loved, and who you always will love- Dean Winchester.

"The ghosts that we knew made us blackened or blue, but we'll live a long life. And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view, and we'll live a long life."

-Ghosts That We Knew, Mumford and Sons

Taglist: not tagging anyone because of potentially triggering content

[phinnsyreads]

Mr. Parker.

Don't look so surprised, you have to have known this day was going to come eventually. One of your fellow boarders was kind enough to let me in. They won't be disturbing us, so please, sit down.

Let me make sure I have the right Jackson Parker.

55 years old. Born in Cleveland, Ohio. Multiple tours in Vietnam. Sentenced to death row for killing his wife’s lover. Date of execution May 19, 1979. Now a professional waiter at one of New York City's finest bistros. And…anyone ever tell you you look like Ernie Hudson? You know, the black Ghostbuster. Maybe I'm just thinking of him because the sequel's coming out in a couple of weeks. Whatever, forget it.

One thing they don't have in your file is your unshakable faith. You believe, in a way that so few others do, that everything happens for a reason.

I might feel the same way if I was one of the rare D-classes who have escaped termination. I have to say, you certainly earned this little life you've made for yourself here.

I saw the footage and the pictures from after the…event. I don't know if you ever had it fully explained to you what happened there. We learned that the creature you decommissioned was responsive to the beliefs of its viewers. One of our guys must have got it into his head that the thing was going to kill everybody. And because he thought that, it did.

Until it got to you, of course.

I know your exit survey was a little while ago, so to refresh your memory, the way you phrased it had to do with "falling back on your faith." You showed, in the face of this blood-drenched monstrosity, unwavering belief that you would make it out of there alive. And because you believed, it was true.

Listen…I'm sorry about what happened to you.

We used to be so callous. Hell, it was to the point of being stupid.

There may — or may not — be a thing that'll kill you if you blink in the same room as it. So far as we can tell, this thing also shits all over the place. Almost every time we sent some guys in to clean up its mess — snap! Their life's over, just like that. Only just built a robot that can do the cleaning a couple of years ago. It sickens me to think about all the men who never came out of that room, all because we didn't think of them as human. Just a letter and numbers.

But what we need you for, it can't be done by a machine. Look, I've been thinking about this a lot lately…there's something remarkable about the human heart. Don't you agree? No matter how much we want to give up or say "no" to life, the heart still beats. That's all it knows how to do. It keeps on beating: "yes-yes, yes-yes." It's admirable, something so resolute in its work.

And I know how you work, Mr. Parker. You know I'm here for a reason. And I think you know you're meant to do something that will save a lot of lives. If you do this for us — if you do this for me — we'll do everything in our power to make sure you get whatever you want for the rest of your days.

I think I can tell what that expression means.

Let me know when you're ready to go, D-14134.

---------

Item #: SCP-1983

Object Class: Keter (Presumed Neutralized)

Special Containment Procedures: Outpost 54 has been built on the land surrounding SCP-1983 and disguised as a chemical plant. The "plant" building serves as barracks for MTF Chi-13 ("Choir Boys"). All entry points into Outpost 54 are to be guarded at all times. Personnel will review Document 1983-12, which details the cover story to be given to any civilians expressing curiosity.

All MTF personnel must profess strong religious beliefs, per Chi-13 protocols. All ammunition stocked must have a silver or silver-tipped projectile. A 24-hour watch is to be maintained on the front door of SCP-1983-1. Guards are to engage any instances of SCP-1983-2 on sight. No personnel is to approach within five meters of SCP-1983-1 outside of scheduled testing protocol.

UPDATE: Following the Event 1983-23, a stand-down of Outpost 54 has been authorized. A skeleton crew will remain to monitor SCP-1983 for any further activity. Arms intended for use against instances of SCP-1983-2 are to be maintained at Outpost 54 armory.

Description: SCP-1983-1 is a one-story farmhouse in ███████ County, Wyoming. It was abandoned in 1968 after a series of ritual murders, allegedly performed by a "Satanic" cult. Please see capture logs for SCP-████ for further details.

The front door of SCP-1983-1, when opened, appears to contain a spatial anomaly. Neither matter nor light has been observed to exit the doorway, save for instances of SCP-1983-2 (though the anomaly is exothermic).

SCP-1983-1 is accessible through other entrances, including windows, the back door, and entrances cut into the back of SCP-1983-1. However, the front room does not appear to exist inside of SCP-1983-1. Doors that should lead to the front room instead lead to other doors inside the building. Measurements of the inside and outside of SCP-1983-1 are inconsistent. Holes cut through the interior walls of SCP-1983-1 that should lead to the front room lead instead to the outside walls around the front of SCP-1983-1, but stop three meters on either side of the doorway. Attempts to drill into the front room of SCP-1983-1 from the outside have led to the exposure of smaller portions of the anomaly, though instances of SCP-1983-2 have not been observed to exit them. Further attempts to breach the wall have been forbidden by O5-03, due to the possibility of allowing increased potential for instances of SCP-1983-2 to appear.

SCP-1983-2 are bipedal creatures approximately 1.8 meters tall. They are vaguely humanoid, and entirely black in color. They are highly aggressive and will engage any human on sight. When an instance of SCP-1983-2 comes into contact with a human, they extend an upper limb into the human's chest cavity, without any apparent damage to skin or tissues. Through unknown means, they then extract the heart, killing the human. Once it has acquired a human heart, the instance of SCP-1983-2 will return to SCP-1983-1.

Silver munitions fired while offering prayer is the only known method of killing SCP-1983-2. The precise form of the prayer or religion of the supplicant does not appear to matter, so long as the prayer is sincere. Once killed, the bodies of SCP-1983-2 appear to "disintegrate," leaving a small layer of sulfur.

SCP-1983 was discovered after a series of mysterious deaths in the vicinity of ███████ County. Foundation investigators encountered instances of SCP-1983-2 and were able to trace them back to SCP-1983-1.

Addendum 1: A team from MTF Chi-13 was sent through the front doorway to attempt to investigate the anomaly. They did not return. However, shortly after they entered, the front door appeared, closing in the frame. No further manifestations of SCP-1983-2 appeared.

Addendum 2: A second assault team entered SCP-1983-1 to determine the fate of the first assault team. They did not return. The door did not close. Shortly after new manifestations of SCP-1983-2 appeared, Agent Morris entered the doorway, which closed shortly after.

Addendum 3: On May 23, 1989, D-14134 was given a closed circuit camera tethered to a monitor by a 25-meter cord. He was instructed to examine as much of the area as he could, and then attempt to return. Once through the doorway, feed from the camera was interrupted. The cord was pulled taut, and then snapped.

Several hours afterward, the anomaly in SCP-1983-1 disappeared. Inside, the desiccated remains of several agents were discovered, as well as Document 1983-15, an informal SCP report written by an agent within the anomaly. It appears as follows:

Item #: Pending

Object Class: Keter. God help you.

Special Containment Procedures: You're going to die, you poor dumb fuck.

This isn't a threat. I'm Agent Barclay. I'm in the middle of this goddamned thing, and I'm telling you, if you're here? You're going to die. I'm probably already dead.

So that's out of the way. Let's get to the containment procedures. There's really only one. Close the goddamned door. You aren't going to get back through there. You've probably already tried. But we know they can get out, if they try hard enough. That's how we found this fucking place. Hopefully, you've already done that. I know we did, once we gave up on getting out through there. If you didn't, then you go straight back and get that door closed. That is your only priority right now. You're going to die anyway. Might as well do some good before you're gone.

Description: So, here's a story, tell me if you've heard it before. The Foundation gets reports of trouble in Bumfuck, USA. Cattle and wildlife are dying mysteriously. Some people turn up missing. When a body shows up, autopsy finds the heart missing. Not cut out, not torn out, just gone. Empty space in the middle of the chest.

They find some sort of pitch-black things floating around. Some brain at the Foundation has seen something like them before, figures out how to kill them. Silver bullets, and pray to God as you fire. Literally. For some reason, that makes it work. Doesn't matter which God, but you damn well better mean it.

I can't, anymore. Not after seeing the nest.

Anyway, Foundation figures out where it's all coming from. Some house in the middle of Bumfuck. No one's lived there in years, not since yadda yadda, murder, cult, rituals, bullshit. The main thing is, these things keep appearing out of the front door. A team goes in, and they never come back out. But then again, neither do the monsters. A sane person would say, Good enough, keep an eye on it, kill anything that moves. But this is the Foundation.

You're a tough agent from MTF-Whatever-the-fuck. Maybe Sequere Nos, maybe Choir Boys, like me. You go bust down the door and run inside, and that's it. You're fucked.

The living room was bad enough. That's where they got O'Brien. They reached in, and suddenly he keeled over, and one of them took off with his heart in its… claws, I guess?

They're less distinct here. You probably noticed that. They're like shadows. Stay away from the light. I know that sounds stupid, but think about it. In the light, shadows are stronger. They have edges. When it's dark, they're indistinct. They can hardly touch you, and they don't see very well. I think they see by your shadow. I don't know. I'm just pulling at straws here, I'll be honest.

You've probably tried going back out the door, but if you haven't, don't. It leads to some place even worse. There aren't any monsters, but… Jones went too far from the house, and I swear to God, he started to melt. Things started popping out of him, and… All you need to know is he didn't make it back. That's when we closed the door.

So, we started moving through the house. We kept to the light at first, before we wised up. Three of us gone that way. But we got a pretty good picture of our surroundings.

This place? It's big. It's not just the farmhouse. It's like… It's like they stole bits and pieces of a lot of places, and stuck them all together. There's some bits that look like an apartment, some that look like a shopping mall, and even what I swear is a closet from my old high school. Same patterns on the tiles and everything.

There's also bits that are made out of… stuff. It's black, like the shadow-things, and it's mostly in the well-lit places. If the lights go out, you can stick your hand through. I don't recommend it. That's how we lost Torres. Something grabbed him, pulled him through. The hole wasn't big enough for his head, but he still went through, eventually.

So, stay away from the light places, but watch your step when it's dark.

Of course, there's no way out. We figured that out too. Any door you find, it either just leads to another room in this nuthouse, or it leads out there, and it's pretty obvious we can't live there. So it's wait until you starve to death or one of those things gets you. Great bunch of choices, huh?

There's one thing you can do. I couldn't go through with it, but maybe you can. It won't help you live, I don't think, but it's… I think it's important. I'm pretty sure someone's going to have to, or these things are going to get out eventually.

This place is stolen from lots of places. So I'm thinking there have to be other doors. We've closed all the ones we've found, but what if they get opened again? And the Foundation doesn't find them in time? Hell, they don't even know about closing the doors. I'm just hoping they figure out that if someone goes in, the things might stop getting out. And that's assuming everyone's smart enough to close the door after they come in.

So, I think I figured out a way to stop these things. It's the nest.

I only saw it once, for a few minutes. We followed one of the bastards after they got Denning's heart. It took it into a room that I guess is in the middle of this whole place. It's all black stuff, and they've dragged in every kind of light they could find, I guess. Lamps, flashlights, candles, you name it. Some of them were carrying more in as we watched. Anyway, at the middle, there's a big pile of hearts. Just tossed in a heap, and torn open, every one. They threw Denning's heart on the pile, and it started to beat, and then pulse, and then thrash around. Then it tore open, and one of those things pulled itself out. It shook itself, started to grow and then went right to work. The gross thing is that, torn apart as they were, the hearts kept beating. I swear I felt a twinge in my own chest.

There were shadows in the place. I don't mean the monsters, I mean real shadows, of people. Only there was no one there to cast them. They were coming from the hearts. A new one appeared at the same time as the hatching monster, and started trying to pull away, but it couldn't.

That was when I ran. I couldn't take it, you understand? I wasn't trained for this kind of shit. I heard the others behind me. I don't know if they were trying to stop me, or if the bastards had spotted us, but we got separated. I found a nice, dark closet, and I've been hiding in here ever since. I've been writing by penlight. I turn it off whenever I hear one of them getting close. It's worked, so far.

I can't go any further. I've got a few shots left in my gun, but I can't pray anymore, not and mean it. Not after I saw the nest. But you, if you've found this, you've got to be an agent too. Maybe you're stronger than I was. If you can, go in and destroy the nest. Destroy every last heart. If you do, maybe it'll kill them. It's the only thing I can think of. You'll probably die doing it, but you're dead anyway. So what's it matter to you how it happens?

Me, I'm going to try and get this report back to the living room, which I hope is where you found it. Then I'm going to make sure they can't use my heart to make another one of those things.

Good luck. Morituri te salutant.

SCP-1983 is presumed to have been neutralized by D-14134, who was posthumously awarded the Foundation Star (one of only two awarded to Class-D Personnel). Due to information contained in Document 1983-15, it is believed that the anomaly was not localized, as previously believed, and renewed resources have gone into attempting to locate similar incidents.

===

[“Mr. Parker” is an SCP Tale by Erazm.]

[The voice of the agent was provided by @phinnsy.] [The voice of Agent Barclay was provided by @lapis-liberalis.]

===

[Enjoy the podcast? Consider supporting us on Patreon! Patrons get access to bonus Joke episodes, outtakes, and can even request episodes on specific SCP objects.]

[ladylynse]

So, I wrote more in my Dystopian AU [FF | AO3].... Y’know, the competent Guys in White one.

He had to go in, but knowing that didn't make it any easier--or take away the risks.

“You have to go in,” Danny said. “Please. Jazz is smart, but she doesn’t know half this stuff. You do. We need you on the inside.”

Tucker bit his lip. “Dude, this isn’t cool. They know we’re friends. They’re gonna know I was working with you. They aren’t going to expect me to stop.”

“Then we give them a fight,” Sam suggested. “Something big. Showy. Convince them of your loyalties that way.”

Tucker pulled a face. “We can’t risk not convincing them, though. If they don’t think I’m legit, they’ll just wash me. Wipe away any pesky sympathies and whatever else.” He wasn’t sure what the Guys in White were doing to brainwash people, but he knew it was effective. They all did.

His words sobered the other two. It was only the three of them in this meeting, huddled in an old outpost of what had once been the lobby of Val’s apartment building in Elmerton. It wasn’t Amity Park, but the ghosts had never made much of a distinction between the two, and they knew its streets from fights long past. From Before.

It was familiar ground, but it wasn’t something the Guys in White expected them to know as well as they did. They weren’t safe here, exactly—the GiW even knew Danny was Phantom—but this was safer than other places. Besides, the Box Ghost had said he’d cause a distraction, and Pandora had let him borrow her box. It would buy them time, if only because the GiW wouldn’t—shouldn’t—be expecting a hydra to turn up.

“Then we convince them you’re a traitor to our side,” Sam said.

Tucker and Danny stared at her. “What?” they asked in unison.

“We can’t risk them washing you. We can’t lose you. But they won’t wash you if they think you have valuable information that might be lost in the process.”

“No, they’ll just torture me! Newsflash, Sam. That’s not better.” Anyone the GiW washed white was ‘freed’ from their past loyalties. The cleansing washed away all their dirty little secrets that helped them hold onto the promise of fixing this mess of a world, but it could also affect memories associated with those loyalties. He wasn’t too sure whether it destroyed them completely or just made them too unreliable to count on when it came to information extraction, but if he was labelled a sympathiser, a rebel, it wouldn’t matter. They had no qualms about torturing someone until they saw the error of their ways and then begged to be cleansed by them, washed and returned to society. It was sickening but effective. Most people didn’t realize their methods, and since they’d begun hammering areas where the information got out, those in the rebellion weren’t keen on spreading it around, either, unless they were already on the move.

It was hindering the whole recruiting process, exactly as the Guys in White wanted.

Sam punched him in the arm. “They won’t need to torture you if you give up the information willingly.”

“What?” he repeated. That sounded entirely too much like actually being a traitor, and the rebellion was too small to afford that. Sure, Danny had made a truce with most of the ghosts easily enough; most of them didn’t want to leave Earth, and of those that remained behind, few thought so much of themselves that they believed they could defeat the Guys in White alone. At least, few did after rumours got out about how the first ones had been torn apart, and almost none had tried it since the release of that footage. But the ghosts were more of a hindrance than a help in populated areas, where citizens had been issued basic ghost hunting tech that included the equivalent of Fenton Finders meant to ferret them all out, and it took flesh and blood humans to break through ghost shields and convince others to join their cause.

Just last week, he’d come across a pair of kids not much younger than he was, scavenging for food. He wasn’t sure how they’d ended up outside the cities, but he hadn’t been about to ask at the time. Instead, he’d told them that they didn’t have to live like this, that it didn’t have to be this way, that they could change things if they just fought back—

The older one had pegged him as a rebel right away. Threatened to report him and reap the reward. Made it clear he wasn’t afraid to fight if it would get him some proof that the report wasn’t a false one, that it was an actual lead on the location of the rebels, if not a captured rebel himself.

It was the younger brother who’d asked questions. Who’d given Tucker a chance to explain the truth. Who’d convinced his brother to join the rebel cause, for a place to belong if nothing else. Walker had vetted and approved both of them at the way station. They hadn’t been threats, just kids who’d needed help to survive, who’d been willing to do anything for it. He’d helped give them a purpose.

He…he didn’t want to throw all that away.

“Tell them something they don’t know,” Sam said slowly. “Something real. Just something small to start. Let them check it out and confirm it. And then give them something else. And then, when they demand something bigger, give them that, too. It’ll hurt us, but we’ll be stronger in the end. They won’t be surprised that your information is less reliable after the third attack—they have to know we’ll be adjusting our plans—but they won’t be willing to wash you, either. You might know something they don’t realize is valuable, that you don’t realize is valuable, and they won’t want to lose that.”

Tucker shook his head. “They’ll want names.”

“They have most of our names,” Danny pointed out. “Between the death registration and the last census—”

“Then they’ll want locations!”

“Yeah, they will, and you’ll have to give some of them up.” Sam crossed her arms. “I said this’ll hurt us. It’s not believable if it doesn’t hurt us. But you can’t chicken out, either. If you lie, it won’t work, and they’ll wash you white, and then this will have been for nothing. Your knowledge is your leverage, Tuck. Make sure they know what you’re bringing to the table, and they’ll be too greedy to let you go to waste.”

Tucker let out a slow breath. “Even if you’re right, even if they let me in without washing me, doesn’t mean I’ll be put in a position where I can help. Jazz won’t be able to help me. It would raise too many flags and blow her cover. And with the number of people watching me, I’d blow my own cover if I so much as hacked my own computer to disable to spyware.”

“That’s why you need to earn their trust,” Sam said bluntly.

Tucker groaned and looked at Danny. “Technus and I can keep hacking into their servers from here, man. We don’t need to risk this. Seriously.”

Danny glanced away. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he mumbled.

“What? They didn’t actually catch Technus, did they?”

Danny looked back at him and shook his head. “No, but he’s running into more blocks every day. Jazz can’t make him a back door. You can. And…and the more we can find out, the better. We need more than one person on the inside, and you could establish a reliable communication link for us. Please, Tuck.”

Tucker swallowed. “If it doesn’t work,” he croaked, “if they wash me, I’ll…. It wouldn’t just be an act anymore. I’d be ready to destroy you.”

Danny smirked. “I’m used to the feeling.”

It was a lie, or at least the nonchalance behind it was. Tucker knew that. Lying was what Danny did, even now.

“Just feed us what you can,” said Sam, ever the practical one. “We won’t act on everything, and we’ll double check what we can before we do act. We don’t want them thinking they’ve got a mole and feeding out false information to catch them.”

Tucker’s mouth twisted. “They wouldn’t bother with that. They’d just wash everyone for good measure. No skin off their noses. They’re too indoctrinated themselves to know the difference.”

“Information,” reminded Sam.

“That information’s gonna have an expiry date,” Tucker muttered. “It wouldn’t save me forever.”

“It doesn’t need to be forever. It just needs to be for long enough.”

“But what if it’s not?” Fine. He was scared. He could admit it. He was terrified. Danny and Sam wanted him to waltz into the lion’s den and play double agent. If he wasn’t washed, he could be tortured. Or just plain shot.

Or the Guys in White might realize what he was up to and use him to lead his friends into a trap. That was by far the worst option, but it was also the most likely, whether they washed him in the end or not. What if they extracted what information from him that they could, washed him, and fed him that information back? He’d happily use it against his friends then, and it’s not like he’d wind up in close enough contact with Jazz for her to tell.

And even if she could, there’s no guarantee she’d find a way to send a message. Her communications with them were spotty at best. His going in wouldn’t improve that, not when he had to keep his distance from her to maintain both their covers. Come to that, they wouldn’t even be able to assure her that he wasn’t a traitor, and he wouldn’t blame her for thinking he might be once his information proved to be good. And—

And he was thinking about this as if it were already a done deal, risks and all.

Sam reached over and squeezed his hand, which was a big deal, considering she wasn’t big on the showing her feelings like that after so many years of hiding what she felt for Danny. He would have taken more comfort in it if he didn’t know it was a futile attempt to balance out her not-so-comforting words. “We’ll do what we can and make the best of whatever happens.”

Danny didn’t say anything. He just waited for Tucker to make his choice known. Danny wouldn’t make him go in, not even with everything that was at stake. Sam would try, but Danny would let him make his own decision, even if ‘making his own decision’ included a few dozen guilt trips and pleas before it was actually decision time.

Like it was now.

To say going in was risky was a major understatement, but they couldn’t afford him not going in, either. Danny was right: they needed more than one person on the inside, and not just in case Jazz got compromised. They were short allies and needed more information. Anything he could do would help them…until they caught him.

Tucker sighed and looked at Sam. “Maybe you should take a harder swing at me, just to help sell the whole traitor thing.”

Sam grinned and cracked her knuckles. “I’ll just pretend you’re Agent W,” she said, and she was on her feet and a fist was flying towards his face before he could change his mind.

He woke up in the ruins of the Nasty Burger with some pickpocket wannabe rifling through his jacket. He could still feel the hard lump of the flash drive sewn into his collar, so he hissed a warning at her and let her get away with her appropriated beef jerky. It was the best he could do for her now. Besides, if they believed him, they’d feed him at HQ, and if they didn’t, a lack of food was going to be the least of his problems.

(next)