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365days365movies · 3 years

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January 20, 2021: Taken (2008)

Well, I know one thing about this movie. He’s gonna find ‘em. And he’s gonna kill ‘em. And also, Luc Besson didn’t direct this movie! Yeah, my bad, he wrote this movie. But, then, he also wrote Leon, so I wasn’t entirely wrong. Anyway, 2008!

I remember this year well. Obama was elected the first Black president of the United States of America; the Olympics took place in Beijing, months after a massive earthquake in Sichuan; the Large Hadron Collider was totally gonna make a black hole; and, of course, the most important news event of that year: Iron Man and The Dark Knight came out.

And of course, the film Taken came out, creating what is arguably the most repeated film meme ever. Or, at the very least, it’s WAY up there. It’s a 12-year old meme at this point, but lemme tell ya: this thing was HUGE in 2008. Not the movie itself, just the meme. And I could lie and tell you that I’m watching this movie because it’s another French action thriller, and it’s fitting, but…

...it’s the meme. It’s 100% the meme, I’m not gonna lie to you guys. So, uh...yeah, Taken, let’s do this. SPOILERS AHEAD!

Recap

Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) is dreaming of his daughter and wife. In the modern day, he brings a birthday gift to his daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace), and his bitter ex-wife Lenore (Famke Janssen), who is married to a very wealthy man, Stuart (Xander Berkeley). Bryan, meanwhile, is a recent and comparatively poor retiree, whose friends come over for a night of drinks.

Retiree from what, you ask? Well, it’s likely the CIA, given that his friends refer to military missions and Langley. They invite him to join security detail for a pop star, Sheerah (Holly Valance), In the process, he saves her from crazed fans, including a knife-wielding assailant. Not sure why that guy wants to LITERALLY STAB HER, but somebody needs to look into that guy!

Out of gratitude, Sheerah gives Bryan some references to give to his daughter, who wants to be a singer, apparently. However, when he sees her and Lenore the next day, all she wants from him is permission to go on a trip to Paris with her friends. When he shows his doubts for her safety, she’s upset, and his wife berates him for...government and military service? I mean, that stuff breaks up marriages, of course, but GODDAMN, Lenore’s bitter about it! Whoof.

Bryan’s definitely being made to be sympathetic, while Lenore’s the opposite of that. And Bryan’s understandably worried about his daughter’s safety, as she’ll be abroad. And we get the idea that Bryan’s a bit of a helicopter parent, but...c’mon! He’s underage daughter is asking to go to Paris with her friends! It’s cause for a parent to be worried, and yet Lenore is like, “She needs to be freeeeeeeeeee!” And that’s made even WORSE by the fact that both of them lie to Bryan, a father who clearly loves his daughter, because she’s actually following U2 on a music tour around Europe!

Which...really? U2? Who the hell can stand that much Bono, for their ENTIRE EUROPEAN TOUR? Anyway, what I’m saying is, Lenore sucks, and I’m not Kim’s biggest fan either. But I get the feeling that, given the one thing I know about this movie...Bryan’s gonna be proven right. So Kim and her friend, Amanda (Katie Cassidy) go to Europe, alone, despite Bryan’s understandable misgivings.

They IMMEDIATELY get hit on by Peter, a French boy who gives them a ride. He invites them to a party, Amanda accepts for them, and this is OBVIOUSLY A BAD IDEA. That’s even further confirmed by Peter making a mysterious call, telling the other person about the girls’ location. Kim doesn’t call Bryan, as promised, and Amanda is clearly a TERRIBLE influence. Looks like Bryan was completely right to be concerned, if his daughter’s gonna be so irresponsible. Oh, also because they’re about to get kidnapped.

Luckily, Kim had called Bryan just before, after realizing that he had called her, and he guides her through the upcoming kidnapping. With his help, although she gets kidnapped, Bryan is able to figure out that the kidnappers are Albanian, and that one of them is a six-foot tall bearded man with a moon and star tattoo on his right hand DAMN THAT’S OBSERVANT. But still...she’s been Taken.

Someone picks up the phone...and he says the speech.

youtube

Had to do it, folks. It’s the most iconic scene in the film. Time for action! Bryan calls a friend with Langley connections, then goes straight to Lenore and Stuart’s place, who find out that BRYAN WAS FUCKING RIGHT GODDAMMIT HOW DO YOU FEEL NOW

Having COMPLETELY FUCKED UP, Lenore asks Bryan to get her back safely. They actually figure out that the men who kidnapped her are professional sex-traffickers, who specialize in kidnapping travelling women and putting them in prostitution. But they tend to disappear...within 96 Hours. That’s how long Bryan has to find her, as well as being an alternate title for this film!

The time limit, by the way, is a common construct for the action-thriller. You know, “she has 12 hours to live,” that kind of deal. Thrillers are going to be peppered throughout this year, and there are a few coming up as well, so might as well start with this one, right?

Bryan flies to Paris, then makes his way to the apartment, tracing Kim’s steps up to her kidnapping. He also finds her destroyed phone, alongside an SD card with photos. From this, he gets a blurry look at Peter. I get the feeling that his face isn’t about to look much better. Speaking of, Peter’s playing his old tricks at the airport, and is caught by Bryan. Painfully caught. After Bryan fights off another guy, and chases Peter up a road, Peter also gets caught by karma.

80 hours left. Having exhausted options, Bryan meets an old contact, Jean-Claude (Olivier Rabourdin), who tells him where the Albanians hang out. He hires an Albanian translator, then heads for a prostitute-heavy area. He harrangues a prostitute until her manager comes out, whom he puts a small microphone on. With the translator’s help, he discovers that they’re having “merchandise problems” at a construction site.

Following a hunch, he makes his way there, and sees several drug-addicted young women in a makeshift brothel. Also there is his daughter’s jacket. The prostitute that has it, however, is not exactly cognitively sound at the moment. So...she’s Taken. By Bryan, who fights his way out of the brothel and construction site, with gunshots, explosions, and car chases along the way.

Bryan brings the girl back to a hotel, where he somehow gets ahold of an IV and medicine, and detoxes her in the room. Which, given the time frame and other factors...seems like a very large risk to take for testimony that, let’s be honest, right not exist. Still, as this is happening, he gets a call from Jean-Claude, asking to meet.

56 hours left. After 7 people dead, a destroyed trailer, and 3 people injured (and probably stolen medicine from a hospital, let’s be honest), Bryan isn’t exactly the best friend of the French government. He escapes police custody and heads back to the hotel, where the girl is cogent enough to remember where she got the jacket: from Kim herself, at the house with the red door on the road of paradise. No, really.

Bryan gets to the house, and poses as Jean-Claude...badly. He apparently passes his bluff check, and takes advantage of a corrupt police system, and makes them give him protection money. Over the course of the conversation, he figures out that one of them is Marco. Which means that he found him. And he said that when he found him…

After that spree is done, he searches the facility and looks for Kim. He doesn’t find her...but he does find Amanda. And sadly, he’s too late for her. Turns out, though, that he didn’t kill Marko (Arben Bajraktaraj), the leader of the group. And of course not! He has some questions.

Bryan tortures Marko using electricity, and he reveals that Kim’s been sold quickly, as she is a virgin. She’s been sold to Patrice Saint-Clair (Gerard Watkins), although Marko doesn’t know where he is. And so, Bryan fulfills his promise, and electrocutes him. He then makes his way to meet Jean-Claude at his home. And, uh...that’s when he crosses a line.

...Um. Bryan shot his wife. And yeah, Jean-Claude’s clearly not on the up-and-up, but he’s not directly complicit in the kidnapping of his daughter. And yeah, he’s in Bryan’s way, but JESUS CHRIST DUDE. He officially loses the moral high-ground here for me, even if his cause is just. Jean-Claude concedes, and Bryan gets the information that he’s looking for and leaves, knocking Jean-Claude out in the process.

Bryan goes to the Saint-Clair residence, where an auction is taking place for various young women. The last of these is, of course, Kim. Having barged into a booth of one of the buyers, he forces him to buy Kim (ew). Unfortunately, he’s caught and chained to a pipe, where Saint-Clair’s henchmen are about to kill him. But, of course...

Bryan escapes and kills Saint-Clair in the process, but not before finding out that Kim’s been Taken to a boat. He obtains a car, and after a length (and seizure-inducing) car chase, gets onto the boat, which is owned by the Sheik, a man of unknown Arabic origin. And yeah, in case you were wondering, this feels very...VERY...wrong. It’s brief, yeah, but...you gave a rich Arabic guy multiple wives obtained through illegal means and made them the main villain? FUCKIN’ OOF BRUV

Anyway, as expected, Bryan kicks the asses of everybody on the boat, and finally rescues Kim, killing the Sheik in the process. The two have a tearful embrace, and Bryan NEVER LETS HER OUT OF HIS SIGHT AGAIN PROBABLY. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT BONO. THIS IS ALL YOUR GODDAMN FAULT.

Well, Bryan wins the I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG GODDAMIT award, Kim gets to go home and meet that singer from before, Lenore gives Bryan some consideration as a human being for once, Stuart stepfathers, and that’s Taken! Also, WHERE IN THE HELL ARE AMANDA’S PARENTS, A GIRL IS DEAD

Epilogue soon!

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waveridden · 4 years

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FIC: tell my head to tell my heart

“The deal was that you come with me to keep me sane, not so you could chat up my cousin.”

In which Gerry needs a wedding date, Jon doesn't think about consequences, and Martin has a lovely conversation with a stranger. 1.7k, Jon/Martin + Jon&Gerry.

AUcember || read on Ao3

The Von Closen estate is massive and ostentatious, the way that only rich people are ever ostentatious. It’s full of things like gates made of ornate metal that could never keep an actual intruder out, and gardens that require multiple people to attend to them every day.

It’s also terribly unwelcoming, although that could just be Jon projecting his own discomfort. It’s not the estate’s fault that he’s here. It’s Gerry’s fault, and so it’s Gerry that he’s going to blame for the fact that he had to sneak out of the massive estate for a cigarette.

At least, he said it was for a cigarette. And he certainly wouldn’t mind having a smoke right now, but he doesn’t have a cigarette or a lighter.

He ends up walking to one of the gardens, one that Gerry had pointed out during his unenthusiastic and prolonged estate tour. Gerry seems even less enthused than Jon to be here, but Jon supposes Gerry has reasons to be unenthusiastic. His mother insists that he come to family events like this, and Jon is really just there to keep Gerry from flying off the handle at some distant Von Closen cousin. Or to help provoke the cousins, he’s actually not clear on which it is.

At any rate, the garden that Jon finds himself in is somehow the least inviting garden he’s ever seen. It’s manicured in a way that suggests that it’s never been touched by human hands before; it’s designed to be immaculate and impersonal. He keeps wanting to snap twigs off trees and kick in bushes, not out of malice but just so things look a little more… well, a little more real.

He’s walking along a path - tasteful cobblestone, of course, completely immaculate, not a speck of dirt to be found - thinking about picking a couple of flowers, just as a joke, when a voice says “Oh! Excuse me.”

Jon startles and looks up. There’s a tall man walking the same path as him, just a couple inches from colliding with him.

“Ah, sorry,” Jon says, and takes a step back to let him pass by.

The man smiles at him, but it looks tense, like he’s worried about something and trying to ignore it. And really, there are only so many reasons that someone would skip out on the huge Von Closen family dinner to wander around a garden. Clearly this man doesn’t want to be here either. And ordinarily Jon would just let him nope in peace, but honestly, he could use as many allies to get through this week as he can find.

So he says, without quite meaning to, “D’you think we could get away with picking flowers?”

The man laughs, although it’s more a startled sound than anything actually humorous. “Sorry?”

“It just… seems like the kind of place where you could afford to take something and nobody would notice.” Jon gestures around the massive garden, and then to an artfully sculpted hydrangea bush. “Like, those little ones at the bottom.”

“I think there are better things to risk my life over than some flowers,” he says cautiously, but he’s not backing away from Jon or running to get him thrown off the estate or anything, so that seems like a good sign. “What do you have against flowers?”

“Absolutely nothing. But I have something against pointless frivolity.”

“Pointless frivolity? Gardens are pointless?”

“They are when they’re designed to look like conservatory exhibits instead of gardens.”

The man smiles, a tense there-and-gone flicker but a smile nonetheless. “Clearly you’re someone’s plus-one.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If you were a cousin or grandkid or whatever, you would know that we’re in the conservation garden.”

“Conservation garden?” Jon repeats. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t really think it means anything, other than being a nice name.”

“Of course,” Jon mutters. “Since I’m a plus-one and only here as moral support, can I be open with you about my distaste for everything going on here?”

“Most everyone has some distaste for what’s going on here.” The other man shrugs. “I heard one of the cousins of the bride saying he was mad that she had to go and fall in love without eloping.”

“Eloping?” Jon shakes his head. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”

“Well, yeah, but look at the alternative. Her wedding is driving you to a life of flower-picking crime.”

That’s enough to get a laugh out of Jon. The man looks pleased with himself for a moment, and it makes Jon’s heart skip. He takes a breath and then holds out his hand. “I’m Jon, by the way.”

“Oh!” He takes Jon’s hand and shakes it. His hands are nice: firm, warm, much larger than Jon’s own. “Martin. I’m, ah, third cousin to the bride.”

“Third cousin?” Jon repeats. “And you’re still roped into this?”

“Everyone’s roped into this. Von Closens don’t do things halfway, unfortunately.”

“It seems that way.” Jon sighs. Gerry had always mentioned preferring his father’s side of the family over his mother’s, but he’d never mentioned anything like this. It’s no wonder that he’d described this as cashing in on every favor Jon owes him. Jon owes Gerry a lot of favors. “I’m not even sure how Gerry’s related to the bride, but I’m still here.”

“Gerry?” Martin repeats. “You mean Gerard?”

“Ah, yeah, right.” Jon glances away; he always forgets that Gerry’s family insists on calling him Gerard. “I’m really just here for him, you know?”

“Right,” Martin says. There’s a strange note to his voice, and when Jon looks back he’s smiling a strange, plastic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t… realize that you were Gerard’s boyfriend. Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered to pick you flowers.”

Boyfriend. Fuck.

Gerry had warned Jon that he’d be introducing him as his boyfriend. Said that it would drive everyone crazy to know that a Keay was dating someone who was in academia. Jon had agreed, because if Gerry was suggesting something like this then he was clearly desperate for entertainment. And Jon had figured that there was no way that it could backfire, because he wouldn’t want to see any of these people again after this.

And, sure, he doesn’t get… attached, not quickly the way that Georgie does, not casually the way that Gerry does. But it seems like Martin might be attached, judging by the disappointment radiating off of him in waves. And much to Jon’s horror, he realizes that he doesn’t mind Martin being attached.

Jon opens his mouth to say - what, that he and Gerry aren’t actually dating? - when he hears someone from behind him say, “There you are!”

Gerry always did have the worst timing.

“Hi, Gerry,” Jon says weakly, because he’s not sure what else to say in this moment. He turns around to see Gerry coming down the garden path. He makes a point of stepping off the path a couple times, leaving bootprints in the dirt. Jon wishes he’d thought of that earlier. He forces himself to smile. “Sorry, needed some air.”

“I can’t believe you abandoned me,” Gerry huffs, coming to stand next to Jon. “I was all alone in there with nobody to make faces at, very rude of you. You don’t even have cigarettes.”

“I don’t smoke anymore,” Jon says defensively, as though that wasn’t his excuse for leaving the house. He can tell Gerry sees through it, judging by the way his eyes narrow, but he forces himself to press onward. “I just needed a minute.”

“Sure.” Gerry looks up at Martin for the first time, and one of his hands snakes up so it’s wrapped around Jon’s elbow. “Hi, Martin.”

“Gerard,” Martin says politely. “Or do you prefer Gerry?”

Gerry glances at Jon in surprise, then back at Martin. “Call me Gerry, if you could,” he says, short and cautious.

Martin just nods. His eyes dart down to Gerry’s hand around Jon’s arm and then back up to Jon. He doesn’t say anything, and Jon feels oddly guilty for an instant.

“Well,” Gerry says at last. “Jon, I have to catch you up on all of the cousin gossip so you don’t seem like such an outsider. Good seeing you, Martin.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Jon adds quickly, before Gerry tugs his arm, hard.

“You too,” Martin says, and Jon wants to smile at him but he doesn’t have time before Gerry is spinning him around and dragging him back up the garden path.

“Is there a reason you don’t want me talking to Martin?” Jon huffs as soon as they’re out of earshot.

Gerry gives him a strange look. “I couldn’t care less if you talk to Martin, what are you on about?”

“You just seem very determined to-“

“The deal was that you come with me to keep me sane, not so you could chat up my cousin.”

“I was not chatting him up,” Jon says, too loudly. And too quickly. And too… aloud at all.

Gerry stops walking to give Jon the most skeptical raised eyebrow that he’s ever seen. “Really?”

“He was nice,” Jon says plaintively.

Gerry snorts. “Give me a break, you eat nice for breakfast.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You need someone who can be snarky with you. Someone with a little grit. Martin’s nice, but he doesn’t have grit.”

Jon frowns. “We were talking about vandalizing the garden earlier.”

“Huh.” Gerry pauses to stomp a couple more bootprints into the dirt around the garden, then glances back at Martin. “Well, you could do worse. You could always date the family disappointment.”

“Seems like I already am,” Jon mutters.

“That’s the spirit,” Gerry says brightly. “Cheer up, we can always stage a dramatic breakup at the reception and then neither of us will ever be invited back.”

“Surprised you haven’t done that years ago.”

Gerry grins. “What, and deprive you of the opportunity to chat up my cousin? I could never.”

“Great,” Jon mutters. When he glances back, Martin is still standing by the bush. It may be a trick of the light, but it almost looks like Martin is holding hydrangeas in his hand.

Jon smiles to himself. A bit of grit, indeed.

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #jon x martin #tma fic #waveridden.fic #aucember19 #tam and i talked a lot about this au seven months ago #i really cannot encapsulate it in 1.7k but here we are anyways #the full version had things like 'tim and gerry make out in a coat closet'

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

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Merry Christmas, @gryvon!

Read on AO3

*****

Get your FEET off the Dash it's LEATHER

Chris Argent caught up to him at the same time as the FBI, and Kate. Chris had information and wanted his help, Kate shot him in the stomach and stole the yellow wolfsbane he’d taken out of storage to protect. Like an idiot. At least Kate couldn’t handle wolfsbane enough to put it inside bullets herself anymore. It still hurt, but he wasn’t about to die, and he managed to get up and track Kate back to the hideout she was sharing with the last of the hunters from South America. By the time he got there, Kate was long gone, but her accomplices were still around.

Derek slipped inside the hunters’ hideout to see what he was up against. They were hunters alright. Lots of them. With lots of guns. This might be where they stockpiled them; it was certainly big enough for that. He was hiding behind a shelf full of some sort of gun he didn’t recognize, not one that Braeden ever used, when he heard the trucks pull up outside. The FBI, he realized in surprise. He knew they were tracking him, but he didn’t think they’d catch up to him again this quickly. Not since Kate took out the last attempt.

The FBI was quiet enough that the hunters hadn’t heard them yet, and they managed to sneak inside just like Derek had, and space themselves out around the warehouse. Not very observant hunters, obviously. Derek waited patiently while they set up, figuring he’d give them a hand in apprehending the actual bad guys.

Satisfied that the FBI was in position, and not wanting to risk any of them finding his hiding spot before he’d had the chance to clear his name, Derek stepped out from behind the shelves and cleared his throat. Seven hunters spun around to face him, all bringing their guns up to bear.

Derek raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just here to talk.”

One of the hunters snorted. “Yeah, sure. After what we did to your buddies down in Brazil, I’m sure that’s true.”

So they hadn’t heard about the other group of hunters Derek had already caught up with. Or at least they weren’t bringing it up. “That was you then,” Derek said, raising his voice just slightly. “You killed those people.”

Another of the hunters outright laughed at that. “Yeah, people, sure.”

“Just so long as we’re all clear that I had nothing to do with it.” Derek kept his eyes on the hunters, refusing to let his eyes find the FBI agents hidden around the room.

“What are you talking about, we were looking for you.”

Derek grinned. This time he let his voice raise more obviously as he called out, “you got that?”

“Showoff,” someone muttered to his right. Someone with a very familiar, very distinctive voice.

Derek’s head jerked towards the voice. “Stiles?”

The air was suddenly thick with gunfire. The hunters jerked their guns back up, at Derek’s sudden movement or his addressing of the hidden figures in the room, it didn’t matter. The FBI opened fire and Derek dove for cover in the direction of Stiles’ voice as the hunters fired back. He rounded a shelf and came face to face with — yeah, that was Stiles, grinning like an idiot.

“Hey, Sourwolf.”

“Stiles.” Derek blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, me? I joined the FBI. We’re here to arrest you.” Stiles’ grin widened. He grabbed Derek’s arm and started tugging him towards the exit. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Nice job, by the way. Quick thinking and all that. Figured you would have heard us — didn’t know you had it in you.”

Derek followed after Stiles, still a bit bewildered, with half a grin on his face, until he felt more than saw one of the hunters turn a gun in their direction. He yanked Stiles back and Stiles cried out in surprise almost at the same moment Derek heard the gunshot. Or, Derek thought it was surprise, until Stiles whimpered and Derek looked down to see part of his shoe had been blown off.

Stiles wobbled and Derek swore as he helped Stiles to the ground, kneeling next to him to yank off the book and sock underneath.

“Ow, hey, fragile human here!” Stiles chocked out a sob as Derek examined his foot. There were only four toes. The fifth was a bloody stump and Derek couldn’t see the detached tip anywhere when he glanced around for it.

More bullets whizzed by overhead and Derek gave up the search in favour of getting them both safely out of there. He scooped Stiles up in a bridal carry, and instead of protesting Stiles just grabbed onto Derek’s neck and started wailing. Derek carried him out the door, rolling his eyes at Stiles’ antics. He was so dramatic. It was just a toe. Not like it was an arm.

Stiles passed out just outside the doors and Derek carried him to the nearest available van. An agent was there to greet them. Derek dumped Stiles’ unconscious body in the back of the van and pointed to Stiles’ foot. “He got shot. I couldn’t find the toe.”

“Freaking interns,” the agent muttered, grabbing her radio. She glanced up and paused. “Aren’t you Derek Hale?”

Derek sighed and held out his wrists. “Yeah. You gotta handcuff me to the door or something?”

The agent hesitated, then nodded slowly, reaching back to retrieve her handcuffs. She fixed them on Derek’s wrists and he sat down in the back of the van next to Stiles's still unconscious — and possibly slightly snoring — body.

Everything after that was all very chaotic but still somehow efficient. A medic came over to check on Stiles and Derek was led away to be questioned, though thanks to the hunters’ confessions earlier he was no longer a suspect. He told them he knew the people who were murdered in Brazil, distant relatives of his, and when he saw the police had no leads he decided to take matters into his own hands. His interrogators — interviewers? —tried to chastise him for that, but Derek just rolled his eyes and pointed out that until he got the hunters to confess, the FBI still suspected him. The same thing happened when his sister died, and even with his family’s murders to a certain extent. Until Stiles stepped in and helped prove his innocence, he points out as an afterthought. Maybe it would impress someone here that Stiles had been successfully solving crimes for years now. In a slightly unlawful, vigilante fashion, but whatever.

When Derek got out of debriefing — ugh — Stiles was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with a cane propped next to him. He grabbed it and pushed off the wall, grinning when he saw Derek approach.

“Hey.” Stiles nodded.

“Hey yourself.”

Stiles punched him in the shoulder. “We made a pretty good team back there. As usual.” Derek rolled his eyes. Hard. “So where’ve you been? What’ve you been up too?”

“Oh, you know. Getting accused of murder, going on the run, chasing down homicidal hunters, getting called back to Beacon Hills to bail everyone out of the latest crisis. The usual.” Derek shrugged.

Stiles waved his hand dismissively. “I know about all that. I’m in the FBI, there’s surveillance. Anyway, I meant — wait. What about Beacon Hills?”

“Scott didn’t tell you?” Derek raised an eyebrow. He figured Stiles would be the first person they’d call.

“No, obviously not! Tell me what? What’s going on?” Stiles’ free hand skittered through the air before he dove it into his pocket to fish out his phone and started texting. “Lydia didn’t say — but maybe she doesn’t know either? Why wouldn’t Scott — I thought Scott left! He’s still in Beacon Hills? What the hell!”

Derek snorted. “Even I know something’s going on in Beacon Hills and I haven’t talked to anyone in months.”

“What, being on the run turns you into more of a hermit than usual?” Stiles glanced up from his frantic one-handed texting. “We missed you, man. You could’ve called.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“You should probably get one.” It was Stiles’ turn to snort. “Wait.” Stiles finally looked up fully. “How do you not have a phone? How do you survive?��

Derek shrugged.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

An agent hurried past, carrying a huge stack of papers, and Stiles shifted out of the way, overbalancing with his cane and injured foot.

Derek reached out to steady him. “Should you be walking on that?”

“Technically?” Stiles made a face. “I mean it hurts but I’m on a shit ton of meds so it balances out. Doc says I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Normal for you anyway.”

“Asshole.”

“How long is no time?”

Stiles waves vaguely, apparently to indicate some length of time at the end of which he would be healed and ready to return to normal everyday activities. Like being in the FBI and fighting with and against the supernatural.

“More importantly.” Stiles fixed Derek with a stern look, his body suddenly still and focussed. “What is going on in Beacon Hills?”

What happened to I’m in the FBI, we have surveillance, Derek thought. He didn’t say it out loud though, going off on another tangent would do them no good when he should be leaving as soon as possible. Whether Stiles was coming with him or not.

Instead, Derek told Stiles what he knew: Kate had been searching for yellow wolfsbane — which Derek thought at the time she would use as a cure for Gerard, but she’d told him instead would be used as a weapon against Scott. He hadn’t had time to get much from Chris before going after Kate, but it sounded like some serious shit was going down. Not that it ever wasn’t — this was Beacon Hills — but this felt bigger. Not some lone Alpha or small group out to get revenge — something much more dangerous. Derek just wasn’t sure what it was.

By the end of the explanation, Stiles was still in shock that Scott hadn’t left Beacon Hills. He thought his best friend had left for college months ago. And after some internet stalking, it turned out that Lydia — now Stiles’ girlfriend apparently — had also chosen to stay in town, even though she’d had a full ride to MIT.

In the end, Stiles called his father for more details.

“Never thought I’d be calling my dad to check up on Scott.” Stiles grimaced as the phone rang. “Definitely always pictured it the other way around. Or that I’d be calling Melissa to check in on them both — hey, Dad! So, what’s up, what’s been going on and why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Stiles and Derek agreed that Beacon Hills — that Scott and Lydia and Chris and Melissa and apparently even the Sheriff needed their help. Stiles had a few days off from his internship to recover —

“Which means you should be using that time to recover, not mounting a rescue mission. What did the doctor actually say — bedrest?”

“Oh, shut up. You at least need someone to drive the getaway car.”

“Can you even drive missing a toe?”

“Shut up!”

They had their bags in the back of Derek’s Camaro and were on the road within an hour. Derek didn’t press too hard. Obviously Stiles was going back with him, that was never really a question.

…

They drove in silence, which surprised Derek, he thought Stiles would try to fill the space with random chatter. He did, occasionally, but mostly he seemed content to gaze out the window and watch the world go by. Something about the silence was comfortable, and Derek felt effortlessly anchored in a way he hadn’t since… he wasn’t sure when. He wondered when that had started, when Stiles became safety for him. Maybe it was something that grew out of necessity, and solidified every time Stiles saved him, and he saved Stiles back. They’d come to rely on each other for that feeling of safety, of having someone at your back. Derek hadn’t thought he’d needed that when he left Beacon Hills, but he realized now that he missed it. If you’d asked him back when they’d first met, Derek never in a million years would have pegged Stiles as the one he could count on time and time again, but here they were. He glanced over at Stiles in the passenger seat, watched him for a moment before Stiles looked over and made eye contact. He looked different than Derek remembered. Older. Sharper. More confident. Less spastic. Settled.

“What?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Something on my face?”

Derek shook his head. “Nothing, just. You look good.”

Stiles’ other eyebrow joined the first. “I’m running on about four hours sleep in the past forty-eight hours, lost a toe, am on massive amounts of medication for said toe, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t showered since the last time I slept.”

“In that case, you look incredible.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked away to stare out the windows again.

Derek chuckled, then said in a softer voice, “I mean it, though. Getting out of Beacon Hills was good for you. You look good, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced back over, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Back at you big guy. But, hey, it’s you. You always look good.”

Now it was Derek’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Seriously.” Stiles shifted in his seat so his knees were aimed towards the driver’s seat. “I’ve never met anyone who could have their guts rioted out and still manage to look like they could be on the cover of a swimsuit magazine. Well, a zombie swimsuit mag. Disembowelled quarterly.” Stiles snickered. “I used to have the biggest crush on you, you know.”

Derek blinked. He had not, in fact, known. He had known that Stiles had a crush on Lydia. Which had obviously never gone away considering the two of them were now dating. He hadn’t even known Stiles was interested in guys. When had it started? Shouldn’t he have noticed — if not on a personal level, Stiles would have given some other indication that he could have picked up on. Especially when they were in such close proximity. Like in the pool. Or at the sheriff’s station, with the Kanima and Matt. To be fair, those had been highly stressful situations. But he’d always thought Stiles was especially easy to read. Tracking him when the Nogistune shit had gone down proved that. Something would have slipped through, did Derek just not notice?

“We’re at the point in our relationship where I can tell you these things,” Stiles said.

“Literally,” Derek muttered.

“I’ve decided.” Stiles nodded. “It’s not awkward, we’re chill, we’re different people, we’ve grown up — don’t lie, you have too — but oh my god I do not want to know what you thought about me when I was sixteen.”

Derek smirked and glanced away from the road to give Stiles a once-over. “You know, now that you mention it, not much has changed, actually.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles said cheerfully.

Derek laughed.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. “It’s weird. Looking back, all the signs are so obvious now, but I didn’t realize liking guys was even a possibility — for me — until someone pointed it out to my face. And then I have to go and wonder if that ever even happened or if I was just out of my mind at the time with, well you know. Doesn’t matter either way I guess.”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I think my life was pretty much normal, except for my mom dealing with the occasional pack thing. Until I was fifteen.”

“With Paige.”

Derek blinked again. “Who?”

“Paige?” Stiles glanced at him and kept going when Derek just stared back blankly. “Your high school girlfriend? Got bitten by Ennis? But the Bite didn’t take and she died? Or you killed her, maybe? I’m not entirely sure, Peter was pretty unclear, and I’m pretty sure he was bullshitting most of it.”

“Peter told you about this? This Paige?”

“Yeah, why? Sorry, I guess it’s pretty personal.”

Derek wasn’t sure what his face looked like just then. He was confused, trying not to laugh, and not sure if he wanted to laugh at the same time. Who even understood why Peter said what he said. And when would he have even told Stiles this? What would have been the point?

“Derek?”

Derek looked over at Stiles. “I don’t know anyone named Paige.”

“Right… I mean, not anymore I guess? Since she died?” Stiles winced.

“No, Stiles. I do not, and have never known anyone named Paige.”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it again, eyebrows furrowing. “So this story Peter told me about you and your high school girlfriend…”

“Never happened.”

There was silence in the jeep once more, Stiles staring out the windshield into the middle distance. Derek made sure to keep his eyes on the road, so they wouldn’t swerve into oncoming traffic.

“Fuck, Cora is gonna be pissed.”

…

“Get your feet off the dash.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s leather and I said so. It’s my car.”

“It’s a stolen car. See, this is why Roscoe is superior —”

“Like you would ever let anyone put their feet up in your precious Jeep.”

…

After a few hours, they decided to stop at a motel for the night. Stiles offered to keep driving while Derek slept, and then they could trade off when Stiles got too tired, but Derek argued that they were both exhausted since neither of them had slept since the FBI raid on the hunters last night. On Derek, Stiles pointed out, and Derek ignored him in favour of pulling into the motel parking lot.

They stayed up longer than they should, talking, both of them exhausted but neither quite ready for sleep. They took turns in the bathroom and lay down on their backs in separate beds, staring at the ceiling. Stiles talked more about Malia and how weird and unhealthy that relationship was for both of them, how he should have handled it better, should have taken it upon himself to make sure both parties were enthusiastically and verbally consenting to everything instead of just following their twin horny virginal instincts. Especially with all the talks he got from his dad, the Sheriff, growing up, plus the fact that Malia spent so much of her life as a coyote and clearly wouldn’t know about these things.

Derek talked about Kate, how it was so strange after all these years to be tracking her down to prevent her from committing further evil. How it felt a little like atonement, and at the same time like something he should have done years ago. How he didn’t blame himself for everything that had happened in his life, not anymore, at least not all the time. How he was trying, and a lot of the time was successful, to be better, and happier, and how a lot of that had to do with seeing his mom — with her claws in his neck on the ends of Peter’s fingers. Of course there were still slip-ups, still moments where he blamed himself for Kate, for Peter, for Laura, for Jennifer, but he was able to catch himself more and more. But he told Stiles he knew he was getting better. He was healing.

He looked over at Stiles to find eyes turned towards him, shining with emotion.

“Good for you, dude,” Stiles whispered. “I’m happy for you.”

It sounded a hell of a lot like I’m proud of you and I hope I get there myself, someday.

…

“Are you looking forward to seeing Scott,” Derek asked once they were back on the road.

“Under once again life or death circumstances?” Stiles’ eyes stayed trained out the window, on the endless trees rushing past. “Not particularly. In general, yeah, obviously, that’s not even a question.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen Scott outside of life or death circumstances.”

Stiles laughed. “Fair enough. So are you looking forward to seeing him, then?”

“I am. He’s done well for himself. He’s a good alpha.” A true alpha, at that. Derek knew the stories, knew of the existence of true alphas. His mother had known one, he thought, but he always assumed they were so rare that he would never meet anyone who could achieve alpha status by sheer force of will. But if anyone could do it… well, Stiles could probably do it if he were a wolf.

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

Derek’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. “You don’t think so?”

“I think he’s doing as well as he can for someone barely out of high school with no idea what he’s doing. But, and okay I love Scott, alright, but he can be a little… I mean he obviously isn’t learning from past mistakes if he’s deliberately keeping us out of the loop.”

Ah. So it was a jealousy thing. Stiles didn’t like feeling left out, even if it was for his own safety. Typical. Derek grinned. “Keeping you out of the loop, you mean.”

“I’m assuming they only tracked you down in the eleventh hour when Scott realized he couldn’t do it all by himself. Actually, it probably wasn’t even Scott’s idea. True alpha or not, Chris, Melissa, and my dad aren’t his underlings or whatever. And Chris is the one who found you, wasn’t he?”

“And you think that was Chris Argent’s idea. To come find me.”

“Hey, I thought you guys worked past your shit, on some level. And I’m not saying Scott’s a bad alpha. He’s doing surprisingly well, but he’s not gonna be winning any best-alpha-of-all-time awards any time soon.”

That was rather unfair. Doing the best you could is all anyone can do. And what the fuck was this ‘surprisingly well’ bullshit. Derek glared at the road. “He’s better than I was.”

Stiles just shrugged. “You would’ve figured it out eventually.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Stiles turned in his seat so his body was angled towards Derek. “I mean it. You had a rough start. Made some… pretty questionable decisions. But all in all, I think if things had calmed down a bit and you’d had time to find your footing, you would’ve been good at it. There was a reason you chose who you did for your pack, and not just because they’d say yes. In different circumstances, you would’ve been good for them. You could’ve been good for each other.”

Derek didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing, and they lapsed back into comfortable-ish silence. Until Stiles reached over to switch on the radio and accidentally flipped it on at full volume and Derek nearly swerved off the road.

…

They left around noon the morning after the FBI raid. They could’ve flown, except Stiles was supposed to be on bed rest probably in a special FBI hospital somewhere, and Derek was still on a bunch of no-fly watchlists or something, and it was gonna take a while for bureaucracy to come through and sort that out. So driving it was.

Neither of them particularly minded. Yes, they were in a hurry to get back to Beacon Hills to rescue everyone, but they weren’t in a huge hurry to get there and die, so it was nice to take a few days to drive quietly rather than taking a plane. The only time Derek’d been on one was when he followed Laura back to Beacon Hills when she went missing, and he hated it, for so many reasons, so he had no desire for a repeat experience. He expected Stiles to complain about being cooped up and immobile all day, but he found ways to entertain himself, and Derek, and it was peaceful to travel together. Like it was a real road trip with no particular goal in mind, rather than a dangerous rescue mission.

“It’s always a dangerous rescue mission,” Stiles sighed. “One day I’m gonna go on a road trip for real.”

“You’d like it.” Derek nodded. That’s basically what he was doing when he left with Braeden, before he joined back up with Cora, and then Kate and the other hunters had to go and kill a neighbouring pack and Derek just couldn’t leave it alone.

Stiles asked and Derek told him about travelling with Braeden, about trying to help her with her vendetta with the desert wolf, because it was nice to help out with someone else’s vendetta you had no personal investment in for a change. About splitting off to go visit Cora when he realized he could, which didn’t take long but took longer than it should have for him to realize.

After six hours driving on the first day, with both of them exhausted from lack of sleep, they’d stopped at the motel, and decided to forgo one the next night and drive straight through. They drove fifteen hours before Stiles finally gave up and admitted he shouldn’t be driving yet with his toe, and pulled over to the side of the road to sleep for a few hours. They made it ten hours the next day, and they could’ve kept driving — it was only another six to Beacon Hills — but by the time they got there it would be three in the morning and they’d be completely useless.

This was Derek’s thought process when they left the diner they stopped at for dinner, and instead of getting back on the road he pulled into a motel parking lot. Stiles didn’t say anything, so he must have been thinking something similar. Or maybe something more like if I have to sit in this goddamn car another minute I am seriously going to murder someone, going by the way he’d been squirming for the last few hours in the passenger seat.

They were quiet as the got out and crossed the parking lot, heading for the front desk together. Derek didn’t say anything as Stiles requests a room and the woman behind the desk handed over the keys. They stayed up late talking again and slept in the next morning before a lazy breakfast at the same diner as last night.

Derek didn’t want it to end. What would happen when they rejoined the others, and then after when Stiles went back to the FBI and Derek went… somewhere. Else. He didn’t really have anywhere to be. No one needed him. No one wanted him. But he liked this, whatever this was with Stiles right now. It was nice to feel connected to another person, to share the space in a way that’s easy and comfortable. He didn’t want to let go of it just yet.

He had to, of course. They made it back to Beacon Hills and —

“Oh my god, pull over!” Stiles was already undoing his seatbelt.

“What? What is it?” Derek pulled the car over and Stiles leapt out of the passenger seat before they’d fully rolled to a stop.”Stiles!”

Derek got out of the car to follow him and his eyes narrowed when he saw the only possible thing on the block Stiles could be running towards. He took off down the road and reached the jeep at the same time Stiles did.

“They’re not here.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Derek tensed. “Stiles. Tell me you did not just jump out of a moving car because you saw your jeep parked on the side of the road.”

“Parked! Abandoned, is more like it! What has Scott been doing to my baby, you’re obviously not being used to your full potential.” Stiles smoothed his hand along the hood of the jeep and Derek frowned.

No, he was already frowning. Now he was scowling. “Stiles! Give me one good reason why we just stopped five minutes away from where everyone needs us before I drag your ass back in the car.”

“Because my jeep is awesome and it has survived way more than your Camaro 1.0 ever did, and it comes with a built-in radio and weapons stash in the back, AND, like I said before, Scott is obviously not using Roscoe to his full potential, seeing as he’s left him abandoned by the side of the road, Derek.”

Derek took a deep breath to remind himself that Stiles is a human, Stiles wouldn’t recover if Derek smashed his face through the window of his precious jeep, and he wouldn’t forgive Derek for the damage either.

Wait — was that?

Derek took another breath in through his nose. Yeah, that was Scott alright, and close.

“We’re close,” he told Stiles, and took off running in that direction.

“Wait — Derek!”

He heard Stiles scramble for his keys and stumble into the jeep before the engine ground to life and the car started after him. Derek veered down an alley and a second later the jeep followed. Almost there.

Then suddenly the jeep was passing him, and Stiles was waving and calling “later, sucker!” Before turning the next corner and slamming to a halt.

Derek jogged up alongside it and there was Scott — and everybody. They said their hellos: Derek hugged Scott and Stiles hugged Lydia, and everything immediately went to shit.

No one died this time. Well, no one Derek cared about. They stop the Anuk Ite, but the hunters were still on the warpath, and they were setting up a global network. Derek headed back to South America to make sure Cora was safe, and warn the packs down there about what’s going on. Jackson and Ethan went back to Europe with Chris to meet up with Isaac. Scott called Kira’s parents in New York and they promised to spread the word there and make sure Kira was safe as well.

Scott and his pack tracked the hunters, stepping in when they went after someone. The younger ones stayed in Beacon Hills — they still had to finish high school — while Scott and Malia travelled the country. Lydia went to school and Stiles went back to the FBI, but they came running to the rescue whenever they could.

Stiles and Derek stayed in touch. Derek got a phone and gave Stiles his number, which opened the floodgates for communication. Stiles texted him constantly, random thoughts and observations, about nothing in particular, and Derek found himself smiling as the words echoed through his head in Stiles’ voice. …

A few months later Derek was back in the country, helping Scott track down this one young werewolf the hunters were after. Stiles and Lydia showed up in Stiles’ jeep — which he’d taken back from Scott when he went back to his internship, claiming he needed a way to come to the rescue if Derek and his Camaro weren’t gonna be around.

They got the kid into hiding, and ended up at an all-night diner, catching up before they had to go their separate ways again. There was only one booth big enough for all of them, and Stiles slid in next to Derek, while Lydia wound up on the other side of the table next to Malia. Everyone relaxed, catching up, smiling and laughing even though they were all exhausted. They weren’t any closer to stopping the hunters, who seemed to grow in number every day. They were getting worn out, all of them, and this was only the beginning, Derek could tell. More than once he’d considered just taking off again, going into hiding, to live in the woods by himself to get a break from all this. But when he looked around the table at his friends, his family, his pack, and he knew he could never leave them again. Even if they weren’t always in the same place, he would never abandon them.

As the conversations turned to other things, people breaking off into couples and smaller groups to chat, Derek turned to Stiles. Stiles asked about Cora, and South America, and Derek asked about the FBI and Lydia. All stuff they’ve talked about before, briefly, over text, except when Derek brought up Lydia Stiles gives him a weird look and says,

“We broke up.”

Derek frowned. Stiles never mentioned anything about that. He would have remembered.

“Yeah, we realized it just wasn’t working out, neither of us was really as invested as we thought we’d be, and we’re better off as friends.” Stiles shrugged. “I think I’ll always love her, but I’m not in love with her anymore, you know?”

Derek didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. The only time he thought he’d been in love before… well. It certainly wasn’t what he felt for her now, and he didn’t want to think too hard about it, honestly.

“It was definitely mutual,” Stiles continued, apparently not needing any actual input from Derek at this point in the conversation. “And I think it’s been heading that way for a while. I don’t know about Lydia, but I, well there’s someone else.”

Derek swallowed and looked away. Of course. Of course Stiles would already be moving on to his next relationship, it was a wonder he’d been single for so much of high school. Despite his personality. Derek glanced at him and looked away. “Think you’ll have more luck dating in the FBI rather than high school?”

Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fat chance. Wouldn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t work there. And I’m pretty sure he’s straight.”

Derek looked up again to see Stiles peeking at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow slightly raised in question, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Was he…? Maybe? Derek cleared his throat and smirked back. “Maybe you should ask him.”

Stiles’ smile widened and he turned his gaze back to his plate, poking at the few remaining curly fries. “Yeah?”

Derek relaxed back in his seat, letting his arm draped across the back of the booth behind Stiles. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Stiles glanced up at him and straightened. “Okay, maybe I will.”

“Good. You should.”

Stiles took a deep breath and then slumped forward suddenly, his head thunking down on the table. “Oh my god, Derek, would you please just answer my non-question so I don’t have to embarrass myself by actually asking!”

Derek put a hand over his face to hide his smile, and hopefully stop himself from laughing. “I’m sorry, what question is that?”

Stiles sat back up angrily and Derek quirked an amused eyebrow at him.

And of course that was when the rest of the table erupted with laughter and whatever Stiles had been about to say was drowned out. They held each other’s gazes for a while longer, but the moment was broken and they turned back to the rest of the group. Derek left his arm where it was as Stiles sat back in his seat. As the night wore on they drew closer, Derek’s hand brushing Stiles’ shoulder, Stiles’ knee bumping against Derek’s under the table.

Afterwards, Derek walked Stiles to his jeep and leaned on the hood while Stiles unlocked the doors.

“You know, DC isn’t too far from here,” Stiles said. He wasn’t looking at Derek, focussing intently on fitting the keys into the door.

“I’ve never been,” Derek said.

Stiles looked up at him. “I could show you around. If you wanted to come visit.”

“I’d like that.” Derek smiled.

Stiles nodded. He turned to open the door, then abruptly turned back. “As a date. I’m asking you on a date.”

“Oh. Yeah. I thought… maybe you were.”

Stiles kept nodding. “Good. Okay. Still a yes?”

“Yeah. Still a yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

He leaned in suddenly and kissed Derek. Both their eyes were open and they stared at each other, and then Stiles was back where he’d been a second ago and opening the door of the jeep before Derek could react.

“Great, okay. Text me when you’re in town. Or before. Like don’t wait until you’re in town to text me but, you know.”

Derek shoved off the jeep, nodding as Stiles turned the key and threw it into gear, driving away before Derek had even caught his breath enough to speak again.

When he turned around everyone was staring at him. They didn’t look shocked though. Smug Derek thought. He ignored them and walked over to his own car, not bothering to give Scott a wave before he drove off. He didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, so he turned in the direction a certain jeep had gone.

Now was as good a time as any to visit DC.

#gryvon #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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cyberstabbing · 7 years

Text

Kidnapping/Abduction

In All Your Innocence (You’re Mine) - The things we want most in life are often times the things we cannot have. What looks to be the most desirable thing in the universe, the sweetest and most awe inspiring, is the most deceptive. These things -these vices- tease and entice us unrelentingly, forcing us to the very brink of madness. They’ll drive us crazy, taunting their value and unattainable selves in our faces every waking and unconscious moment, only making us want them more. And more. And more, to the point where we will stop at nothing to obtain them. 10k

Sing For Me, Pretty - Frank Iero is a known name in the rock music scene. He was the frontman for the hugely successful Pencey Prep. After Pencey Prep split, Frank spent his time and energy with his label, Skeleton Crew. He was introduced to LeATHERMOUTH through his label, and the band offered him the position of frontman for them. With this band, Frank has propelled himself to superstardom. But with superstardom comes risks and consequences. One of those risks is psycho stalker fans. 37k

Something Subtle - “So,” Gerard began, somewhat awkwardly. “Are we going to question what the other is doing out here at this time of night, or should I keep walking?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, as if he was nervous, as if he wanted to stay. 3k

Let me make you happy - Frank is just a normal guy - maybe a little lonely, and not exactly rich, and he might smoke a little too much - but he’s generally fine. When he ends up in the middle of a forest at the dead of night after his car broke down, Gerard happens to drive by. Frank is really happy at first - Gerard offers to get him to the next town. Also, he’s really nice and good-looking. Too bad for him that his rescuer seems to have some mental problems, as Frank will find out during the next couple of days. 22k

Promises, Promises (Don’t Send Me Back In 30 Days) - “Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway.” 26k

ever just the same (ever a surprise) - As the only charm weaver in his small village, Gerard has lead a quiet but productive life. All of that changes when he crosses the path of a dark fae with royal ambitions. A fairy tale with wicked witches, magic, and (of course) true love. 20k

Like a Horse and Carriage - Frank was raised wild, on a merchant vessel that sailed all around the world. When he returns home, an orphan, he is wed to a man with money and name that he has never met. A Victorian AU. 8k

You Keep Me Sane - Gerard has become infatuated with a young librarian that had only spoken to him once before, and he realized that he didn't have the usual, unrelenting craving to kill. No, He had a different urge, one that seemed a little more dangerous... 144k

I read some of this before I started keeping track of read fics, so that’s why it hasn’t been on here until now. But aloooot more words have been written since 2016 (144k now. holy shit), and someone just reminded me abt it, so here’s to rereading!

Heaven Help Us - It's hot, but that's nothing new, Gerard's used to this by now. The heat surges up his back and causes his spine to roll with shudders to get used to the new temperature. His white wings flap a few times as he gets used to standing firmly on the ground before they fold in, disappearing back under the skin of his shoulder blades. The musky smell is heavy, and it's almost overbearing, but Gerard doesn't care. He's only here for one thing, and as soon as he gets it, he'll be gone. 9k

Obligatory ‘Haven’t Read This In Years’. Can’t remember the details, but it is pretty dark, with torture etc. ... I used to read some messed up stuff. But then! The twist!!! Now *that* I remember. ... You’ll have to read it to find out. ;)

#frerard #frerard fic #frank/gerard #rec list

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cyberstabbing · 7 years

Text

Band AUs

Meaning that at least one of them is in a band, but it’s not My Chem.

Redeemer - Gerard is a complete asshole to pretty much everyone but himself. He’s rich and privileged and doesn’t care if he steps on other people’s dreams. After a night with some guy he met at one of his clubs, in which Gerard ends up under a young punk rocker’s care, he may be changing his act. 20k

An Emergency Of The Heart - Gerard’s fat fucking birds have fat fucking asses. 13k

Cute lil’ cinderella au, franks in a band and gerard works for CN. its So. Sweet. I couldn’t stop smiling in class.

Coin Toss Girl - Frankie thinks she’s got it together, she’s fronting a band, playing shows, finally living away from her mom, working a shitty job and attending college. Not to mention the slightly okay girls she brings home. Slightly okay girls who never seem to actually call her… and yeah, maybe her life isn’t as together as she thought it was, especially after meeting some random dude at a party who turned out to be her flatmates brother and not a complete jerk. Takeout is consumed, arguments are had, pining is contagious and sexualities questioned. 16k

You Will Leave a Mark - Gerard is twenty-two, drunk, lonely, and really, really needs to get out of the basement. 24k

Ass-Kickin’ Chick Music - She’s not someone’s girlfriend. She’s not anyone’s anything. She’s a fucking force. Gee doesn’t know if she wants to be her or fuck her. 20k

Small Cells and Fibers - Tuesdays were finger-painting days. Frank made sure to wear his oldest pair of jeans, because even with his full-length apron and his constant reminders that paint belongs on paper and not on clothing, he always ended up with tiny, multi-colored handprints all over his clothes. There wasn’t a thing he could do about it, so he just wore pants from 1995. 7k

Frank’s a preschool teacher and is in a band !! Gerard’s daughter goes to Frank’s preschool. V important fic.

High School Never Ends - “There’s a guy standing in front of him, and he has to be the hottest guy Gerard has ever seen. Dark sweeping fringe over one eye, the side of his head shaved and dyed blonde, tattoos peeking out from under his shirt and – is that one on his neck? Gerard feels his mind go blank – he is way too drunk to be in this situation.” 4k

Sleepover - Jamia died in May, so in two months it would be three years. Xavier was born in March, so today he was turning six. He’d had a party, which was fun, but now Daddy was feeling sad again, so Xavier was holding him tight. “We’re gonna move,” Frank said. Ray just nodded. “I think maybe I need to get out of this town.” Frank had been poking around the tri-state area, trying to figure out where they could go. He wanted a small community with friendly people where his neighbors wouldn’t constantly try to set him up with their sisters. He chose Fire Island. 6k

Natural Disaster - It happens like this: Frank needs a roommate. Apparently, independent record stores and garage bands don’t pay the bills. Or, not all of them at any rate. So he asks around and it turns out Mikey’s brother needs a place to live that is not their parents’ basement or Mikey’s couch. 5k

Mixed Bathing at Home - AU which can best be described thus:

Bex: it is a pointless AU where gerard writes comics and frank is in leathermouth, but there is no mcr Wax: mmh, aggro leathermouth frank meets gentle frustrated comics gerard? Bex: uh….no Bex: gerard gets his toe stuck in a faucet and frank rescues him. Wax: … Bex: it’s the stupidest thing in the world. Wax: how… how do you– nevermind, I’ll just read it. 7k

Someone … maybe babylynz wrote this description? Anyway, here:

Gerard is a hot mess of a comic book artist; Frankie’s semi-famous for Leathermouth, but filling in for his friend-the-apartment-super when Gerard gets his toe stuck in a faucet. So fucking cute, and heartfelt, plus bonus points for high school reunion: Gerard kept thinking about it, kept looking at Frank, who was solid and confident and covered in tattoos and played in a rock band and could go to dinner with three strangers and how it seemed impossible that he would ever have been picked on or marginalized or scared in his whole life. Suddenly all the lyrics about hating everyone made a lot more sense. "You never really know,” he said, and then realized it had been out loud. Frank was giving him an amused look, but Mikey and Alicia didn’t even blink.

'Til I Find a Place - Gerard had finally done what he had to do. He'd gotten out of the basement, and now he had a booth to himself at the Blue Moon Diner, where he could sit and drink coffee all night and calm his jittery hands enough to draw. It was perfect. 12k

Transatlanticism - Gerard’s a comic book writer living in London. Frank works for a record label and has a band in New York. The problem with meeting in the middle is there’s a whacking great ocean there. 20k

Measured Against the Regrets - AU where the band never happened and Gerard quit his job at Cartoon Network to paint instead. After hitting rock bottom and going to rehab, he's back at home, struggling with a vicious creative block and trying to figure out his next move. When he reconnects with Frank at a Leathermouth show, the attraction is instant. Frank inspires Gerard more than anyone or anything has in a long time, but it's up to Gerard to turn that inspiration into a second chance. 17k

Shadows In The Parking Lot - In which there’s a mass grave under Frank and Ray’s apartment complex, Frank doesn’t believe in ghosts, & Frank’s ex-boyfriend is, conveniently, a paranormal consultant. For Milo. 61k

Well, I just stayed up until 4AM to finish this masterpiece. I love love love the characterization, and the whole “we used to be a thing years ago.” Which I haven’t really read much of, but it worked SO well for this fic and it might be my new thing. Not to mention the spookyness! It was so awesome, especially how nonchalant Frank was about ghosts in the beginning, which seemed to be more confusing to Gerard than if Frank just straight up was a firm non-believer. lol. Will definitely reread around Halloween! :D Also, the author said that they’re working on a sequel!!!!

A Fate Worse Than Death [Spells] - “Can I help you find anything?” an employee had asked. Frank just waved them off. “A box I can fit my ex-boyfriend’s body in.” had hardly seemed like an appropriate response.

~ Or, The story of how Frank Iero became a vampire slayer in the worst possible state to wake up a vampire. A daydream on ‘The Taste Of Ink’ by The Used. 59k

Hot damn. Love how Frank took down those vamps for G. And that graveyard scene! Good stuff. Felt like I was reading a comic at times because I could visualize everything so clearly.

A Milkshake With Two Straws - Somewhere along the way Frank just started appearing in the studio doorway, sometimes with flyers for his band, sometimes - very, very awesome times - with coffee. Of course, when Gerard's In The Studio his head is in a creative place, not a talking and remembering place, so he can't really be expected to know what he has or has not told Frank. 2k

Gerard is a spacey art school student. Frank’s pinning and frustrated by Gerard’s obliviousness. Short & sweet! Side note, Oblivious!Gerard is in my all time top five tropes and it will never get old.

On Measuring Life With Coffee Spoons - “Venti mocha frappuccino, no whipped cream,” Frank said with a grin. Gerard noticed he was wearing the nametag with the little blue vampire drawn next to the K. It was Gerard’s favorite. Barista!AU featuring socially awkward! Gerard and trying-too-hard! Frank. 7k

Obligatory “I’m not usually one for coffee shop aus but this was great.” Because it’s the truth.

#frerard #frerard fic #frank/gerard #rec list

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