#I am literally handing out fucks on the street corner to the fandom

[trulyumai]

Personal Space? Never Heard Of Her!

Synopsis: You help the big boss (Jack), with every day tasks. He sees some forms missing from his desk and questions you. Jealousy ensues.

Pairing: Handsome Jack/You

Warnings: Murder (I mean it is Jack)

Available on AO3!

A/N: I know this is kind of a niche fandom, but Ive been obsessed with it recently! Enjoy the reading :)

“-Listen, listen, sweetheart, how many times do we have to go through this?” Jack's voice echoed through his office, you stood there just behind him with a frown marking your face. 

“Jack, I already said-” 

“Ah, ah, Mr. Jack pumpkin Mr,” Turning back to you he wiggled his long finger, tutting you lightly. 

“Mr. Jack,” You bit out, 

“The forms were already submitted. I told you the current marketers already came down for them. 

Squinting at you he plopped down on his chair, it groaned in protest as his heeled dress shoes rested on the oak desk in front. 

“Careful with that tone. I just like my things organized, is that so bad? I didn't know those shit brains were already on the new prototype,” Idly swinging his pistol it twirled between the man's fingertips, it would have been quite impressive if you weren't already mildly annoyed. 

Crossing your arms, pivoting one hip to touch the table, you relaxed your face. Somewhat afraid of the man, you didn't want to piss him off this early in the day. 

Afterall, you didn't dare think just how many assistants had come before you, shot and maimed  in this very room before you desperately enough took the interview for this (once in a lifetime) job.

The man rambled on, about the new gun designs, “Dumb ass,” bandits and the citizen who unfortunately ran into him this morning. 

“-Filthy fucking guy, how could he not see me coming! I was gonna rip his eyes out but who am I- '' Pausing all his movements halted, until he slowly, oh so slowly faced towards your direction once more. 

With still movements you paused too, wearily eying the man before he finally spoke up. 

“Wait, wait. Hold on, hold on, back up.”

Backing up a step you gripped one wrist with your hand. 

“No not literally you fucking- Your sentence. The researchers?” Frowning you traced back to your prior conversation 

“Yes, sir. The um, Prototype? They came in early, asked, well, demanded the papers. Said it was urgent.”

Sitting up Jack put both his gloved hands on the desk, gripping the corners until you heard the crinkling of his leather gloves. 

“They came. In my office, and you let them in?” 

Oh no. 

“W-well sir, they said- they demanded me to! Said you gave them special permission, made me walk ahead of them to open the door, and an-” 

A single hand was lifted, halting you to stop the rambling. The glass windows behind him showed the business of the city. Skyscrapers cascaded around the office, the clouds invaded the unusually blue sky and you wanted to run- run and bury yourself between the shiny buildings and fluffy skies. 

“What were these, shall we say, gentlemans names, hm?”

Distracted by the plethora of people on the streets you didn't answer, didn't even notice the man get up from his chair and place himself in front of you until his big hand squeezed the meat around your face. “Answer, pumpkin.” 

“The names? Um, Mordecai- I think and maybe ah-” The grip worsened, with increased pressure you felt the creaking of your jaw, the tightness on your skin. 

“S-Steven! That's it, I'm sure!” 

Eyes darting back and forth between yours he let go, switching to put his arm around your waist. 

“See? Was that so hard! Good job, sweetheart, really, that must have exhausted you,” 

His fingers skirted across your form, until his fingers danced at the hem of the blouse you wore. They lifted it a tad and met the skin with a warm touch, lightly gliding his fingers up down and as he hummed in thought. 

“Pretty sure those are downstairs guys. Let's pay them a visit! See what they have to say about personal space,”

Dragging you along, he pressed the elevator before leaning down on you, putting the side of his head to rest on your own. 

With a cocky expression he noticed your nervous form. “Don't worry, sweetheart- you tell Ol’ Mr. Jack, which one did the demanding and this will all be over soon!” His hand twitched on the opposite side. 

“Maybe we can even get some brunch after, I'm starving.” 

Nodding your head you held back a wince. 

The morning just started and there were already three casualties. 

What a morning in Pandora.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Why do you think Dean never prayed to Cas when he was in lockup? I mean, I get that he couldn't possibly tell Cas where he was held, but he still could have prayed, I mean Cas was worried sick.

Since it’s late on Thursday night already a week after this aired, I feel like I’ve seen every possible version of this discussion on my dash. My very boring answer which I gave after reblogging some character-based stuff was just that this is where they wanted Cas (worried sick) and so Dean didn’t, and it’s up to us to interpret why but to me the episode was MORE about Cas and Mary and in general what happens in the Winchester’s absence, and so it was definitely working backwards from there. Sam and Dean got a little action sequence at the end and literally in the last 5 minutes any emotional stuff, because with a delayed reveal on the deal they were not really emotional POV characters UNTIL the bridge, therefore the episode was not ABOUT them so much as what else happens in their orbit when they’re not around. Even the guys holding them down there got way more personality and interesting character writing than the Winchesters did in prison…

And this is NOT a criticism, because I am assuming you don’t write an episode where your 2 main characters aren’t “really” characters in it until the last 5 minutes unless you’re doing it deliberately and want to explore something else. Which in this case included Cas being miserable about Dean being gone, which therefore meant Dean could not be in contact with him giving him any hope or something to swing at, because that wouldn’t get Cas to where he needed to be. And would have not removed Dean (or Sam if he prayed) from the story properly either, to maximise on a Winchester-free Supernatural episode. Or as far as you can go to pull that off within the constraints of needing to have their faces in the episode on and off throughout. Same formula as 6x04 or 6x20: keep them around but they only really get involved in one emotional moment at the end aside from general standing around having a face in between :P

I also think that it’s not plotholes or deliberate laziness or stupidity to leave gaps like this all the time if they can be explained, although I feel like fandom as the part of the audience that spends a lot of time thinking about the show and gets really complicated about their questions and expectations, can end up feeling like we’ve been short-changed or the show isn’t thinking hard enough about something we crowd-sourced an answer for weeks ago… We often move immediately to much heavier or deeper territory and come with pre-loaded expectations that make everything seem to fall short… 

(Can you tell I have read a lot of negativity this week about an episode I thought was great fun and actually proclaimed 3/4th of the way through that I was pissed off with Dabb for not giving me any plotholes to bitch about for once? :P People were @ ing me expecting me to have issues with the car continuity but I hadn’t noticed any and when I re-watched I realised that Mary saying “I drive fast” before the driving had explained everything I needed to know to completely keep my immersion in the story so it hadn’t even occurred to me to question it because I thought the story had pandered to my need to know these silly details? No one gave any numbers and who knows what the maths is on driving from the Bunker to Colorado via Mary and stopping to chat to the BMoL that would give us a total drive time for Cas but that one sentence just *magic wand ding* made it all go away :P To me this was Dabb’s most solid episode ever in terms of writing, except perhaps 8x08 which I think lands a perfect score on all fronts when normally sloppiness like that lets him down (loses points for Billie though…))

Anyway, sorry, slightly ranty because it’s late and I’m tired and in pain and this really has not been bothering me at all, which makes my response to the fact people ARE disgruntled unfortunately disproportionate, because basic maths about gruntlement proportions. :P 

The very obvious practicalities that you mentioned give a basic emotional surface text version that I think honestly does adequately cover it about as obviously as “they showed Dean shaving to explain why his hair was the same length when he came out as when he went in” - that is, if you take away any character dynamics and look at it like, Dean could tell Cas where they are if he knew where they were, but when he phones Cas he says he has no idea where they are ergo he’s had no reason to contact him, then you have what passes for a very very boring answer that might not satisfy US but tbh I suspect for anyone NOT overly invested in this relationship would be the sort of answer they get to if they wondered and be satisfied with it.

 I feel like I’ve read a lot (or in my head it has stretched out in fever dream ways to feel like a lot) of rambling over the last week about all the praying and why Dean wouldn’t, and the history of their prayers, their entire relationship since like, season 4, and so on and so on to try and make a coherent story arc to explain why Dean has stopped praying to Cas and I think they’re all great even if I’m now pretty hazy on them (see above: fever dream). I think my favourite slant of the argument (but not the only or main interpretation, just one I like that I’m picking on here :P) is just Dean’s self-worth, that he wouldn’t feel like he deserves to pray any more (and this is tracked back to when he last prayed and pointing at the Mark of Cain arc in the middle). Cas’s trauma in 11x06 was clearly linked to damage going back to Dean beating him up in 10x22, and once the Mark of Cain stuff was all thankfully over, Dean also felt like complete shit about it. Cas is still suffering from an ongoing arc of the same trauma from the start of season 11; why not assume Dean is following after him still feeling like shit about that? It severs their connection they had back in, like, season 8 when things were last somewhat resembling factory settings for them, at least on the surface. The window between Cas getting grace back and Dean getting the Mark is like, 2 episodes if you push it, and we have one “I came as soon as you called” of ambiguous suggestion if Dean phoned or prayed, and after that there are literally no more opportunities.

I am feeling like with at least Cas’s side of stuff clearly back on the table now hopefully to be addressed, that at least by the end of the season Dean and Cas might work some stuff out so perhaps in the long run he’ll start again or the way they relate to each other and how Dean used to treat Cas with Faith as in literal religious faith, and now what it is instead, will get discussed… or not. But something will presumably happen pushing this in one direction or another, and I’m still thinking worse before better >.>

Honestly at the moment I’m starting to feel like if it seems weird that Dean isn’t praying to Cas, maybe it’s something we ought to be noticing and not something the show is just forgetting to do out of neglect. Though we don’t have any proof they’re not idiots, it seems really easy these days for chunks of fandom to immediately decide that they are, and that they’re writing Cas badly by making him weak and unable to deal with vampires instead of exploring why they’d show Cas doing that. Or people asking other questions like it in an accusing way instead of a curious way, because accusing doesn’t get us anywhere and doesn’t really seem to be looking for an answer… I’m working on the assumption that the show can fuck up (… Billie… or like, Lucifer’s baby. Or Buckleming still writing in general :P) but not that they’re in a constant state of fucking up, and that not everything that happens IS a fuck up…

I am still enjoying watching a lot of episodes that other people really hate so idk :P I recognise that a lot of people are too disappointed or hurt or attached to a character to do this, but back at the end of season 10 I took a huge step back and decided that I still loved the most part of this show, and went and rewatched it to find the stuff I did love, and I’ve felt annoyingly well-balanced about it ever since.

It also helps I don’t watch live, and every time something kinda weird happens I pause the show and think for as long as I need about what just happened before I continue watching instead of leaping to conclusions or to get my ducks in a row before dealing with scenes. And I have the luxury of rewinding to check dialogue, and not watching a shitty stream so I get the whole episode first time, so things that get blown out of proportion in the immediate aftermath of the episode are like 99% wanky things I don’t get involved with :P 

… And yeah I know none of this is answering your question but it is explaining why I’m answering your question like this >.> Sorry. I’m wildly over-emotionally invested in everything but for anything that isn’t a fairly objective reason to be wanky (like… Billie :P) I’d rather give the show a big old benefit of the doubt about killing reapers or Dean not praying… or even Dabb’s freakin’ car continuity :P Your tone sounded complain-y about this to me (or at least like it was bothering you) so rather than just answer with one of multiple random interpretations that explain it from a character POV that would only either smooth over 1 plothole or leave you unconvinced and still grumpy if you didn’t really like the character interpretation (and answering on that level unless you hit on a real nugget of a thought generally does not really seem that convincing on a bigger scale to make it OKAY that people were upset about this), I thought I’d get a bit meta and explain why I am not grumpy >.> Possibly still not convince anyone but the simple answer just seems so pointless when people are upset about bigger problems.

[bibbawrites]

First Man - Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Request: NONE

Word Count: 1735 words 

Summary: the song First Man by Camila Cabello but make it about Charlie Gillespie

Warnings: i think theres one swear word and thats all ?

A/N: so i had originally written this for another fandom that i am no longer in but i decided to change it to charlie cause why not  this is literally just the song first man by camila cabello, so go listen to that if you dont know it haha  again i tried to make this gender neutral but i may have messed up at one point so if i did im very sorry  anyways hope you enjoy this little fluffy piece 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik

Winter 2019

It was a mild Winter's afternoon in LA. You walked down the stairs of your family home, bag in hand, smiling when you spotted your family sitting around the table, a board game in the middle.

"Y/N! Come join us!" Your mum called when she spotted you enter the room. You shook your head.

"Maybe another time, sorry guys. I'm actually just heading out, I'm gonna stay with Charlie tonight... is that okay?" Your father sighed before nodding.

"When will we get to meet this Charlie boy that we hear so much about?" He asked, standing up to walk over to you. You shrugged.

"I'm not too sure, but it will be soon, I promise." You grinned. Your little sister looked up from the game board.

"What's he like Y/N?" She asked, looking at you intently. A soft smile appeared on your face at the thought of your boyfriend.

"He's really sweet. He's funny, just like you Dad. He’s not super tall but it doesn’t even matter. And he loves dragging me along on hikes." You paused.

"I really like him." You finished. Your dad frowned slightly, but hid it quickly.

"That's nice to hear darling. Don't forget a jacket, okay?" He told you. You looked at your father knowingly. He had been like this with every boy you’d ever brought home, not that you'd brought home tons of boys before.

"No it's okay, it’s not that cold outside today. Besides, he's waiting outside for me." You said, glancing down at your phone to see the text from Charlie.

'I'm here' it read. You looked back up again, noticing your father watching you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug.

"Don't freak out Dad, I'll be fine." You assured him. He squeezed you tightly.

"I just worry about you." You smiled, pulling away.

"I know, I get that. But I'm an adult now Dad. I got this."

"I know, I know." He sighed. By now the rest of the family had gone back to their game.

You patted your dad on the chest before turning to leave, stopping when your hand touched the doorknob. You turned back around to face your father.

"Just remember Dad, you were the first man that really loved me." And with that you turned back to the door and left, leaving your dad to smile sadly. His little baby was growing up.

 Summer 2020

It was Summer and you and Charlie had a few days off from work. You had decided to head back to LA together, to visit your family. After all, you had been dating for over a year and Charlie still hadn't met your family yet. The family that you spoke so highly of.

You touched down at LAX and made your way through security quickly.

"You ready?" You asked, holding tightly to Charlie's hand as you made your way to baggage claim, where you had organised to meet your parents.

"Honestly? I'm fucking petrified." Charlie responded, causing you to laugh.

"You'll be fine. Everyone loves you Char, and my family will be no different." You walked around the corner, spotting your Dad quickly.

"Dad!" You called, rushing over to hug your father. Charlie walked over slowly. You pulled away and grinned, glancing at Charlie.

"Dad, I'd like to meet my boyfriend, Charlie." You introduced. "Char, this is my dad, Sam."

Charlie held his hand out for your dad to shake.

"It's nice to officially meet you Mr Y/L/N. Can I call you Sam?" He smiled nervously. Your father looked him up and down before taking his hand and shaking it.

"Sir will do. Charlie, short for Charles I assume?" His glare was stone cold. Charlie swallowed, nodding.

"Yes sir, but I prefer Charlie." Your father nodded before turning his attention back to you.

"How long are you two here for?" He asked, ignoring Charlie, who moved to grab the both of your bags that were coming along the carousel.

"We have 8 days off, but we're only here for 4." You responded. Your dad nodded.

"Well I guess that's better than nothing. Come on let's go, your mother is waiting in the car outside. She didn't want to pay for parking so she's been driving around while I waited in here."

And with that the three of you headed outside to the car.

 Luckily for Charlie the rest of your family weren't as scary as your father was.

Your mother was lovely, and she had been very welcoming, even speaking to him in French when it was brought up that the two shared a common language.

Your brothers were really cool and invited him to join them to play video games whenever he wanted.

And your little sister, well, she adored the Canadian boy from the minute he walked through the front door.

And just like that Charlie’s first day at the Y/L/N house was over.

After sitting outside for hours with you and your parents, Charlie decided to head off to bed, and with a quick kiss for you and a murmured "goodnight" he was gone.

"So what do you think?" You asked once you knew that Charlie was well and truly inside.

"He's lovely darling." Your mother told you, smiling. You turned to your father.

"Dad?" You asked. Your father shrugged.

"He's not too bad, I guess." He admitted. You shook your head slightly. Of course your father would say that.

"I met his family you know? They're really nice, just like you guys." You told your parents.

"Oh, that's good sweetie." Your mum grinned.

"His parents are great, they're really down to earth. And his brothers and sister are really cool. Plus they love their hockey." You looked at your dad as you said the last part, knowing how big of a hockey fan he was. Your dad nodded in appreciation.

"That's good to hear. If they like hockey they must be good people." Your mother nodded in agreement with her husband. You fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds.

"You know..." You began, breaking the silence. "I think he might be the one." Your mother put her hand up to her mouth, unable to hide her excitement.

"Oh Y/N, you really think so?" She asked. You nodded.

"Yeah, I really love him." You smiled.

"And he's a good man?" Your dad questioned, fixing his gaze on you. You nodded quickly.

"I swear on my heart. He loves me, and he'd never hurt me." You assured him.

"Good." He said, and with that the conversation was over, the topic changing to gossip about a family friend who's husband had cheated on her.

And later when you were heading off to bed you made sure to give your dad an extra big hug and remind him softly that he was the first man that really loved you.

 The four days passed quickly and before anyone knew it, it was time for you and Charlie to leave.

Your family gathered on the driveway, next to Charlie’s car that he had collected on your second day back. After a few hugs with your siblings Charlie moved to bid farewell to your parents. Your mother pulled him into a hug.

"It was lovely to meet you darling." She said softly, before pulling away.

"You too." He smiled. "It was lovely to meet all of you."

"Don't be a stranger Charlie." She said.

"Yeah come back all the time." Your little sister agreed. Charlie nodded.

"I'll make sure of it." He turned his attention to your father, holding out his hand for him to shake. Your father took it, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you for having me sir." Charlie smiled politely. Your father paused, before faking a smile.

"It was no problem." You exchanged a knowing look with your mother. You both knew that your father didn't think that Charlie deserved you.

After a few more goodbyes you and Charlie hopped into the car and left, waving to your family as you pulled out. You had barely made it to the end of the street before you grabbed Charlie's arm.

"Wait we need to go back." You said quickly.

"Why?" Charlie asked, but turned around nonetheless.

"I forgot to tell my dad something." He pulled up in front of the house and you jumped out quickly, rushing over to your father who was still outside. He looked at you in confusion.

"I forgot to say, remember you were the first man who really loved me." You smiled softly, and with one last hug you left again.

 Spring 2022

It was a beautiful Spring day in Hawaii. You and your father were stood together at the top of the beach, dressed to the nines, him in a fancy suit and you in your chosen wedding outfit.

It was almost time.

Time for you to walk down the aisle and marry the love of your life.

You looked over at your father, noticing his tie was slightly crooked. You took a step closer, and fixed the tie, watching as he tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. You smiled softly at him.  

"You know, I've never seen you cry before." You whispered. Your dad smiled, a tear falling down his cheek.

"You just look so beautiful Y/N. No matter what, you'll always be my little baby." He responded, pulling you into a hug.

As you separated the music began to play, and he held his arm out for you to take.

"Here we go." You whispered, and the two of you began your walk down the beach to where Charlie was waiting, teary eyed, at the end of the aisle.

As you walked, your father found himself looking over at you, taking in the tears of happiness and the look of love that you were giving Charlie. Your dad smiled to himself, glad that you had finally found the perfect man for you.

You reached the end of the aisle and you pulled your father into a hug.

"Remember," You whispered. "You were the first man who really loved me." You pulled away, stepping back. Your dad hesitated for a second before stepping forward to pull Charlie into a hug.

"Take care of my little angel." He whispered. Charlie nodded.

"Of course Sir." They pulled apart and your dad smiled softly.

"You can call me Sam."

[vivithefolle]

I just wanna ask, and don’t get mad at me cause I’m genuinely curious, how do you stan Ron? Like, I like him, but he is definitely misogynistic (slut shaming Ginny, treating hermione like she owes him something and being mad that she kissed someone years before, always objectifying Fleur, and acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much). Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

how do you stan Ron? 

Like this:

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM DID YOU SEE MY BABY OH MY GOD. WHEN HARRY’S ARM HAD GONE KABLOOIE BECAUSE OF LOCKHART AND HE. RON. HE WAS. HELPING HIM GET DRESSED???? OH MY GOD BABY???? HHHHNNNNGGGG. AND. AND. AND ALSO WHEN HE. OMG. WHEN HE WAS PUTTING FOOD ON HIS FRIENDS’ PLATES LIKE. MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT. AND THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS BLUSHING AND BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE SLIGHTEST PRAISE BUT ALSO HE’S SO DESPERATELY SEEKING IT BUT HE KNOWS HE CAN’T TAKE IT AND EEK EEK EEK THAT’S SO CUTE SOMEONE HOLD ME IT’S ADORABLE RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE SO GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS CUTE!!!!

Ok and then.

he is definitely misogynistic 

No. And here’s why.

slut shaming Ginny 

Yes, that was wrong. And guess what, that’s also something he probably - scratch that, definitely - picked up from his mother. And also his brothers, recall how Fred and George too don’t like to see Ginny go around with boys. There’s also something to recall: Ron was there when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and learned later that it was because she had trusted an older guy. You seriously wouldn’t be paranoid about who your sister dates after that? It was wrong. Yeah. And he more than learned his lesson when Ginny clapped back by virgin-shaming him and basically told him that he was childish because he hadn’t have a relationship yet. So would that make Ginny sexist too? Or is it just for Ron?

treating hermione like she owes him something 

..................... uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... when? When the fuck did anything like that happen?

He made a prat of himself at the Yule Ball, that much is obvious. But he didn’t tell her anything like “you should be with me” or didn’t insinuate anything of the sort. He was a jealous bitch but kept attacking Krum, not Hermione.

If you mean in sixth year when he treated her with “icy, sneering indifference” for the course of two weeks, yeah that was bad but that’s not “treating her like she owes him something”, the fuck?

being mad that she kissed someone years before 

Yeah. I know. And that was bad, ooooh you got me to admit Ron did bad stuff, that’s what you want to see, right? And I reckon he was also mad that she hid it from him, and that he had to learn it from his sister of all people. We see Ron handles what he considers betrayals terribly. I have some meta discussing the possibility that he has a form of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

always objectifying Fleur 

Um... no, he doesn’t. He makes a stupid comment about her once in GOF then stops. Let’s also fucking remember that Fleur is a Veela, she literally makes guys stare at her as part of her powers!! I’m not blaming her because she’s literally born that way, but you can’t blame someone who is under magical compulsion either.

acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much 

So tell me why he was friends with Hermione then?

Because Hermione wasn’t Emma Watson the super hawt sexy model goddess. Hermione was Mrs Generic. Until this once at the Yule Ball when she got the pretty princess perfect Mary Sue makeover but then stopped because she had to remain ~relatable uwu~.

Again. Ron made stupid sexist comments. But it’s actively shown that he doesn’t follow up on them. If he did indeed live by the motto “girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much”, explain to me why he wasn’t simping and drooling all over Padma Patil who is explicitly stated to be one of the prettiest girls at school when she was his date? Why exactly did he ignore her and was a miserable twat the whole evening instead of basking in the joy of having snagging a girl that was “worth it”? Well surprise, it’s because HE ACTUALLY ISN’T LIKE THAT AND WHAT HE SAYS IS MAYBE SHIT HIS “COOL OLDER BROTHERS” SAY AND HE THINKS THAT BY EXTENSION IT WOULD MAKE HIM COOL TO REPEAT IT. MIMETISM, THAT'S BASIC FUCKING HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY FOR FUCKING TODDLERS MY FUCKING GOD.

Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, 

............

...................................

...............................................................

so. so why. so why wouldn’t you. use that. as a reason. to stan him.

like.

fuck all the “hurr durr ron weasley the boy who made it out of the friendzone!!!!” bullshit, let’s start going with “Ron Weasley, the Boy who became a Man, and not one of those 'uugghh im such an alpha male’ ones but one that’s got the balls to say ‘hey love, I’ve got an idea, what if you kept doing that job you love and feel passionate about while I support you and do the majority of the childcare while also working a smaller job on the side so we’re never short on money’“

Why you people gotta be “yeah I like Ron BUTT” when you know full-well this fucking awful fandom will rake him over hot coals over the slightest mistake he does - worse, will actively go out of their way to interpret his positive moments in the most negative way possible??? Fuck off with that bullshit. Ron dared to say bad stuff omygah big deal, he was forgiven for it all and you’re just all cowards looking to feel “pure” by telling yourself “oh yeah but he was problematic once uwu”. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.

but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO 

And IMO he’s not, funny how that works

So.

I guess it’s impossible to stan Ron because he was problematic uwu.

Ok.

Then I hereby decree that it’s impossible to stan Hermione Granger because:

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. [...] “Not  really,”  said  Hermione  indifferently,  who  was  reading  the  Daily Prophet. “I’ve never really liked horses.” She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns. “He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!” said Lavender, sounding shocked. “A gorgeous centaur . . .” sighed Parvati. “Either  way,  he’s  still  got  four  legs,”  said  Hermione  coolly.  “Any-way, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 27

wow casual use of a racial slur yay!!! A+

And it’s also forbidden to stan Harry Potter either since:

It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine. “Women!”  he  muttered  angrily,  sloshing  down  the  rain-washed  street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric  for  anyway?  Why  does  she  always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 25

and

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!”  “What’s  happened  to  you?”  asked  Harry,  for  Hermione  looked  distinctly  disheveled,  rather  as  though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare.  “Oh,  I’ve  just  escaped  —  I  mean,  I’ve  just  left  Cormac,”  she  said.  “Under  the  mistletoe,”  she  added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.  “Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her severely.  “I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —”  “You considered Smith?” said Harry, revoked. - Half-Blood Prince

Victim-blaming! Nice Harry, nice. Always classy.

Ok, Ginny stanning is already cancelled because she virgin-shamed Ron, right, so who’s left, who’s left... ah yeah:

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” - Half-Blood Prince

Selling date rape drugs proudly ouh là là. Bye Fred.

"Do they work?” she asked.  “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...”  “...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not  selling  them  to  our  sister,”  he  added,  becoming  suddenly  stern,  “not  when  she’s  already  got  about five boys on the go from what we’ve...”  “Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.

Assuming that only girls use love potions, and only on boys. Men never rape in JKR’s world, only women do, you heard it from George Weasley here folks, I’m just passing on the message. Ah and I hope you’re also starting the Fred And George Hate Club given how he’s also slut-shaming Ginny.

“What’s this?”  “Guaranteed  ten-second  pimple  vanisher,”  said  Fred.  “Excellent  on  everything  from  boils  to  blackheads,  but  don’t  change  the  subject.  Are  you  or  are  you  not  currently  going  out  with  a  boy  called Dean Thomas?” “Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?”  She  was  pointing  at  a  number  of  round  balls  of  fluff  in  shades  of  pink  and  purple,  all  rolling  around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.  “Pygmy  Puffs,”  said  George.  “Miniature  puffskeins,  we  can’t  breed  them  fast  enough.  So  what  about Michael Corner?”  “I  dumped  him,  he  was  a  bad  loser,”  said  Ginny,  putting  a  finger  through  the  bars  of  the  cage  and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!”  “They’re  fairly  cuddly,  yes,”  conceded  Fred.  “But  you’re  moving  through  boyfriends  a  bit  fast,  aren’t you?”  Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil.  “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

Ah, good on you for defending yourself, Ginny, but remember, Ginny stanning is prohibited because she’s been problematic in the past and is gonna be problematic in the future and that’s baaaaaaad. Careful kids, don’t get ideas. It’s problematic to like people who’ve done problematic things.

So I guess nobody can like anything or anyone now. Sorry guys. Liking things is evil, what if the thing you liked had, OR USED TO HAVE, *gasp* flaws, can’t take that risk, ohmygah.

[skampi835]

Let’s never speak of this again! (Motonari x reader)

Let’s celebrate Motonari’s upcoming route with an oneshot! 🥳 Since I hopefully avoided most of the spoilers I didn’t come up with any good idea, but then I found this:

you and your enemy hug each other, it's completely accidental, and neither of you know why it happened, and it's like,,, you glare at each other, with an expression of ''let's never speak of this again'´

Thanks for putting this idea in my mind @screnwriter​!

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Language: english

Starring: Motonari x reader (female)

Genre: Comedy

Warning: besides Motonari’s slanguage surprisingly none... ahaha who am I kidding? It's Motonari 😂

real Warnings: angst, bad language, violence (fighting scene!)

Word Count: 1.810

“Get her!”

Shoot! How do I always end in situations like this?!

With this thought you’re bolting straight into the next alleyway. You’ve left the busy trading streets of Azuchi a long time ago and unfortunately lost track of your current position due the rising panic inside of you. Honestly, you’ve no idea where the heck you are right now! Though obviously still in Azuchi you’re running hopefully into the right direction towards the fuller marketplace!

Desperate, you’re squeezing your way through a very small gap between two buildings and dash on. Maybe your pursuers can’t follow you through this and it'll buy you some extra time! The shouts from traders and the sounds of frisky chatters are getting louder with every step you’re taking, which means you have to be on the right track!

Determined you’re keeping up the fast pace, praying you’re able to shake off your pursuers completely in the crowds of the busy market, as you round the next corner. But all of a sudden you’re awfully crashing into a wall.

“Woah!”

“Uff--!”

The heavy impact is stealing your air, though obviously not only from you, but also from said wall, which in the hustle and bustle you’re literally falling into his arms eagerly not to fall. Together you’re even staggering sideways for a split second. Stressed and tense you’re spinning your head up with surprise, staring into the startled, wide ruby red eyes of the man. "Wah-…?"

“… You?!”

You didn't even realize how tight you were clutching Motonari when you crashed into him, until he’s violently yanking your arms away. "The hell yer doing? Got a bloody death wish?" He hisses and is glaring at you furiously.

As shocked as Motonari's reaction was, so are you aghast to face him right now. "What, of all people, are you doing here?!" You snap, still completely out of breath.

Quick steps are pulling you back to the current situation you are still in. You were supposed to keep running from your pursuers but simultaneously you’re facing an enemy of the Oda forces. Your situation is definetly growing somewhat hopeless. Nevertheless the sight of Motonari’s anger makes it a lot easier for your decision, to pass him and run away, than to stand rooted on the spot.

Unfortunately Motonari suddenly grabs your wrist roughly when you've just turned away and is pulling you back. "Ack-…! Let me go!" you plead.

"I won't do shit," Motonari growls venomously. "Now that yer recognized me, princess, I’ve gotta improvise something."

The hectic steps from the side street are getting louder with every passing moment, before they’re coming to a sudden stop right next to you. “There’s this witch!” One of the pursuers is shouting. He’s considerably tall with broad shoulders and a massive body. Shortly afterwards another two coarse figures appears behind him. They’re building themselves up with stern grimaces in the narrow alleyway.

Your eyes anxiously widen and your body starts to tremble ever so slightly. But there is no running away again for you, for Motonari’s adamant grip is chaining you.

"Huh, didn't even know yer know so many grim-looking acquaintances, princess." Motonari’s saying coolly, scanning the three men with his steely gaze. Still he doesn't loosen his grip on your wrist instead he’s tightening it.

"I haven't!" You snort, trying to yank your hand free to get away from him - without avail. You don’t know if it's better, getting caught by Motonari or these guys. But you know for shure both scenarios are pretty bad.

"Hey, you there! Plat-head!” One of the scoundrels growls and is glaring at Motonari grimly, whose dryly raising an eyebrow at this denomination. "Give us the little girl. We have business with her."

“That stupid hussy broke my nose!” Another of them shouts indignantly. You’re noticing his swollen red nose and you can't suppress a brief, yet inappropriate, flash of pride in your face.

It was just a few minutes ago, when they stalked you after you’ve exited your favorite shop. Unfortunately this shop is located in the outskirts of the village so there weren’t many people when they confronted you. The guys wanted to ‘talk to you nicely’ and after a few seconds you’ve ‘nicely declined'. Thank goodness you know some techniques of self-defense!

However, even more inappropriate is Motonari's spiteful laughter that he’s suddenly uttering. It’s giving you the creeps! "Seriously?" With a quick sideways glance in your direction with his ruby red orbs, he’s grinning at the fellow with extreme smug. "Tell me, how’d she did it, putz? Did she climb onto yer?"

Good gracious! Wouldn’t you please make him madder than he already is? Pretty please?!

"What did you just call me?" The broad shouldered man’s roaring furiously. Shortening the distance to Motonari, he’s threateningly waving with his massive fist.

Without wanting to, you’re quickly seeking cover behind Motonari, who has finally let go of your wrist. Now with his hands free he’s facing the attacker. With quick reflexes Motonari’s skillfully dodging the scoundrel's punch and draws his sword with a metal 'shink' that’s humming in the air. You’re holding your breath when Motonari’s holding the blade right against the throat of the ruffian, who is instantly not moving a muscle anymore. "Are you out of yer damn mind? You fucking want to take me on unarmed?!"

Motonari’s sounding incredibly unimpressed, for it was him against three rapscallions, but also incredibly pissed. No matter how this will end, you're sure you won't be of any use. So you’re looking around for an escape route. But you are cornered. The only side you could rush to is a dead end.

"The lil’ one’s mine, get it? So piss off, aye? ” Motonari’s growling with a frown and kicks the man roughly in his side. Gruntling the man hits the ground hard.

"You sunova-!" Furiously about the defeat of his crony, another ruffian - not quite as stupid as his predecessor - is trying his luck with a rusty dagger, when he’s running towards Motonari. But after a few seconds it lands on the ground, followed by the guy.

The last of the crew charges in, just to earn a brutal smack with the back of Motonari’s sword in the side of his neck. "Tch! How the hell did ya morons think yer can take me on when a lil’ girly beat you up? Ya wanna make me really mad?”

You’re recognizing the change in the air around Motonari. It’s tense, shifting from the beginning amusement to bloodlust. Motonari’s wielding his sword, but apparently used it just to disarm his opponent. But now it seems that he won’t restrain himself any longer.

"Crap, let's get out of here!" The guy with the lost dagger is yelling towards his pals. Frantically they’re getting up and quickly disappear into the alleys.

You sigh, relieved as the men finally disappear. But just one moment later your heart’s sinking completely into your boots when Motonari turns back to you, though this time with a sword in his hand. "Back to ya, princess."

“I haven't seen or heard anything!” You shout, throwing your arms up in air and backing from him. Now pressed against a real wall on the side of the house, your heart is pounding up to your throat, when you meet Motonari’s sharp gaze. Luckily the bloodlust you’ve seen before has gone, too.

Motonari’s raising an eyebrow, probably irritated by your strange reaction and is fixing you. Then the corner of his mouth curves up to an amusing smirk while he’s withdrawing his sword back to his belt. “Heh, ain’t that a start?” He snickers.

Abruptly he shortens the distance to you, placing one of his white gloved hands right next to your head against the wall behind you. Superior and smugly, Motonari’s looking straight into your eyes, straight into you. The tension’s getting tangible again and your heart’s pounding hard in your chest. "You owe me. I bet you saw nothing, understood?"

Something you least of all wanted, is to owe to some madman like Motunari! His stern expression is sending a shiver through your spine. "I- ... uhm ... thank you?"

"What should I do with yer thanks? Can’t buy anything with ‘em.” Motonari snarls dissatisfied and is slightly narrowing his eyes. "Either you damn shut yer mouth about everything ya saw - hell, just forget I’m even here! Or I'll cut out yer pretty tongue. Ain’t that a deal?"

Automatically you’re pressing your lips together sealing your mouth - and especially your tongue. You’re staring at him in horror with wide eyes. "Let's never talk about this again, aye?"

What joice do you have? Of course you could just agree with Motonari and then tell the warlords about his whereabouts. But you’ve always been a woman which sticks to her word, no matter how bitter this one is. Not entirely sure whether he'll still carry out his threat to cut off your tongue, you're just nodding, while glancing determined up to him.

"Splendid." Motonari’s pushing himself off the wall with a mask of satisfaction on his face, giving you the way free. "Then rush back to yer patrons, ‘lil princess.”

Uncertain you’re blinking towards him. Motonari makes no move to stop you, he’s just waving with his hand in your direction. He really leaves you with just that! Without further thinking, you’re taking to your heels and bolt away. Not that he'll change his mind after all!

After two more alleys, you’re finally reaching the busy and crowded market and try to calm your panicked pounding heart. That was definitely too much excitement for one day! Still, you're grateful for Motonari getting those ruffians off your back. But why does it haf to be Motonari of all people?!

A deal is a deal, you’re thinking to yourself taking one last, deep, nessecary breath. Certainly it won’t mean anything good that Motonari’s currently in Azuchi. You just hope, you won’t regret this deal someday.

With quick steps you’re heading purposefully back to the castle. Even if this idiot surely won’t appreciate it, your silence about that accident was certain to him.

And you are going to take to grave, that you’ve embraced Motonari by that accident, when running into him. Yes, better never even think about this again!

_____

Motonari’s running his white gloved fingers through his hair and grunts in annoyance, after you left. That you’ve recognized him is a great nuisance to him. It’s time to rethink his plans. That would slow things down a lot.

As if he’d actually trust a little princess like you to keep her mouth shut. What stupidity!

Casually he drives his hands on his sides to get rid of the strange feeling from your delicate arms embracing him.

Let's never talk about this again. - Yeah, better let's not.

[fandom-necromancer]

A little distraction Part 3

This was prompted by @rufina72 as well as two anons and at least one AO3 user. I have to admit I lost track on AO3 because apparently people really enjoy this story line XD Hope you do to!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Hannor/Hancon Part 1 link not available   [Part2]   [Part4]   [Part5]   [Read complete on AO3]

‘S-s-so Connor is your brooother?’ They were driving through Detroit’s streets covered by snow slush and salt. It would be a pain to get the hardened dirt from the road off his car later, Richard thought as quiet Christmas music accompanied their drive. ‘Yes. Older by roughly five years’, he answered. ‘We’re very close.’ ‘And he w-w-will be the only one there?’ Again, Richard nodded. ‘Yeah, him and his boyfriend. Guess I have to update that to husband soon, they plan to marry as soon as legislation has caught up with recognising androids as persons in every aspect.’ ‘No other f-f-family?’ Richard frowned, face falling instinctively, before he forced himself to cheer up.

‘Nah. Our father died in a car accident. I was three years old; I don’t remember much of him but photos. Connor knew him more and always said he was a nice guy. Our mother was always at work, too absorbed in her studies. It changed a bit when father died, but still she wasn’t home much. Connor basically was the one raising me, and he blames mom for not being there for me.’ ‘And y-y-you?’ ‘Nah’, he laughed. ‘It was normal for me; I didn’t know anything else. But we both agree that me and him, we are family and she doesn’t belong in that definition. And that we’ll do it better should we ever get kids.’ Gavin nodded slowly. ‘How’s he?’ ‘Caring?’, Richard began, having to think of the right words to express what he felt when thinking of his brother. ‘Overly protective. Overly friendly. It can be annoying at times. But he is honest too and understands boundaries. He never said anything when I had my silent phases, just came to my room and did whatever he did close to me keeping me company. He seems to always know what you need right now and I think that’s his most treasurable attribute.’ ‘Hooope he knows that with meee too, not just you. Wh-wh-what I told you, I won’t tell anyooone else.’

Nines risked a look to the side to Gavin, who had ducked his head in between his shoulders and fidgeted with a button on his shirt. ‘Hey.’ He stopped at a red light and was about to touch the android comfortingly, refraining from it last second as he remembered his reaction to that. ‘Hey, if it gets too much at any point, tell me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.’ Gavin quickly looked out of the window and nodded, obviously embarrassed.

-

They arrived at a small house draped in tasteful Christmas decoration. Not too much and in exactly the right colours to make it feel cosy, warm and welcoming. Gavin stepped out of the car watching the lights and trying not to think of how he had lifted up the kids so they could help putting them up in their old home. They were fond memories made all the more sour by his loss. He knew his LED was likely red again, alerting the strange human that had picked him up of his  composure slipping, but if Richard noticed, he didn’t say anything, just walking ahead and smiling back at him as an invitation to follow him. Gavin swallowed and hastily walked through the snow to the freed path leading to the door. Nines was already standing there, hand hovering over the doorbell.

‘Richard!’ The door was almost ripped open by someone who looked exactly like the other human, maybe an inch smaller and a lot more expressive. ‘You came!’ ‘I promised, didn’t I?’ Connor hugged the other human and grinned from one ear to the other. ‘Yes of course, but still!’ Only then did he turn to Gavin, who was awkwardly standing half behind Richard and watched them. It was hard to blink away the warning popping up over and over again. Connor moving towards Richard. Threat. Warning. Richard returning his hug, the arm passing through Gavin’s personal space at that. Warning. Threat. Connor turning around. Threat. Run. Gavin didn’t know since when he was stuck in this analysis mode, but he was sick of flinching and glitching at any movement. ‘This must be your plus one?’, he asked Richard with a wink and held out a hand towards Gavin. ‘Hello, I’m Connor.’ Gavin couldn’t suppress taking a step back. ‘I-I-I’m Gaaavin’, he said, cursing his voice box for glitching now out of all times. Connor let his hand fall, but smiled at him, completely ignoring his stutter and hangers. ‘Hello Gavin, nice to meet you! Merry Christmas! Come in, you two! Hank’s getting out the food already!’

They followed Connor in and got rid of their shoes, before entering the living room. Connor instructed them to sit down and hurried into the kitchen to help Hank. When the larger android came to greet them, Gavin dared to relax a bit. He was deviant too, sending a friendly greeting ping to him. He looked gentle, trusting and didn’t have any marks on him. Hank put down plates for Connor and Richard, while Connor came back with two mugs of warmed Thirium for the androids as well as blue tinged cookies. ‘Can you eat?’, Hank asked him then. ‘You are an older model, right?’ Gavin nodded. ‘I am. B-b-but I caaan eat. I g-g-got the upgrade when Kathy- I got the upgrade.’ Hank lifted a brow at the errors and swallowed sentence, but otherwise didn’t mention it. ‘Then I hope they taste, Connor made them. He has no talent.’ ‘Excuse me?’, the human answered, elbowing Hank. Gavin expected damage, but it was a friendly gesture. ‘I can cook great.’ ‘Yeah’, Hank countered. ‘If you count heating up frozen pizza.’ ‘Hey, that’s all I can do, too, so I’ll side with Connor here’, Richard laughed. ‘What’s your verdict, Gavin?’

He looked into the other’s faces, still overwhelmed by it all. Instead of answering, he took one of the cookies and nibbled on the edge. He hadn’t really eaten much since he had gotten the upgrade and his tank didn’t allow for more than one meal anyways. It tasted… sweet. The texture was interestingly grainy and gave in to force easily. Not able to stand being stared at any longer, he just shrugged and said: ‘It tastes good?’ ‘See!’, Connor grinned. ‘Gavin likes it. I can’t be that bad then!’ ‘Or your recipe was good.’ ‘Or he did something wrong and accidentally saved otherwise horrible cookies.’ Connor crossed his arms. ‘Oh, shut up, Nines, try baking something you can’t even try because it’s literal poison for you!’ Richard laughed, and it eased the mood into simpler waters.

They continued talking for a while exchanging about what they had been up to lately. Gavin listened, but was content not to be involved at all, eating the cookies Connor had prepared. He actually liked them a lot and it was quite relaxing to just munch away on them. ‘And? How did you two get to know each other?’ He froze, sharing a look with Richard. ‘Errr…’ ‘Do you know that red light at the corner of that mattress store?’ Connor frowned, then nodded. ‘Yeah, you have to wait ages until you can drive on.’ ‘Somehow timing was perfect, and we saw each other every day when my shift ended.’ He looked over to Gavin and he nodded, thanking him inwardly to not tell them his whole life story. ‘Today I decided to talk to him.’ Connor looked over to Gavin disbelievingly. ‘My brother spoke to you first?’ Gavin huffed. ‘Y-Yes, he did. I-I-I lost my family because of the revolution. Had nowhere to go. He invited me to come with him.’ ‘So you really aren’t more than strangers’, Hank asked. ‘Kind of?’, Gavin shrugged. ‘But Richard seeeems like a nice g-g-guy and I don’t have m-m-much to lose.’ Connor swallowed. ‘I’m sorry to hear that’, he said. ‘You are welcome here any day if you need a place to stay.’ The android ducked his head, blushing. ‘Richard offered that already and I agreed to try it out.’ That shifted their attention towards the man completely.

‘Nines, are you ill? Initiating conversation, bringing someone for dinner and inviting them into your home?’ ‘Fuck off, Connor, seriously. Call it a Christmas miracle.’ Connor shook his head. ‘Would be one hell of one.’ Richard threw him a look and laughed. ‘Connor, just because it’s rare it doesn’t mean it never happens.’ ‘It was awkwaaard as hell too’, Gavin added carefully. ‘Have to admit I thought he was some sort of weirdo first.’ Connor smiled as Nines rested his hand on his arm. ‘Okay, that sounds more like my brother.’

‘Really? A weirdo?’, Richard asked Gavin. ‘I thought aaaaafter our last talk you appreciated h-h-honesty.’ ‘Yeah, okay, but you don’t just tell someone they are a weirdo.’ ‘It’s the truth.’ Richard sighed. ‘I don’t think you are oooone now th-th-th-though’, he added. ‘Thanks, at least there’s that then…’ Richard looked up at Connor. ‘What?’

The other human was grinning at them both and tried to hide it badly. ‘I’m happy, Nines. Really. I’m glad you both are here today. Come on, let’s watch a movie and then presents!’

-

The longer they spent at Connor’s house, the more at ease Gavin felt. No one asked him about his past or why he was malfunctioning all over. It surely was a question that burned in their minds, he could feel it, but they consciously didn’t question him. He was just being accepted as a part of their Christmas celebration as if he hadn’t just been picked up from some scrapyard and put into nice clothing. It felt like he… Like he had been here last year and the year before. Almost like… like he belonged. Like a family. He just had to reach out a hand and take the chance Richard had offered him and all of this would turn from pretend to reality. It was weird thinking about it, especially when every connection to the word family brought up memories of loss and grief about old happiness.

But was it wrong to want this again? To wish for another chance at building new memories? He looked at Richard from the corner of his eyes. The man was completely fixed on the TV in front of them, body relaxed and close to him but far away enough not to impose or cause stress. Gavin swallowed and looked over to Connor and Hank on the other couch under a blanket lying close, Hank holding the human and caressing his hair. He could have this again. This casual comfort, these caring touches, this feeling of safety and belonging. The home he had lost and tried to build for himself in that scrapyard could be his again, if he just allowed to let it happen.

He swallowed and pressed his eyes close to block out the warnings of threat, warning, run, danger. Then he scooted over slowly until he hit Richards warm ribcage. He felt the other shift around his frozen body, then an arm was draped around his shoulders carefully. ‘This too much?’, Nines whispered near inaudibly over the movie running and Gavin shook his head. No, he wanted this, he just had to get over his own barriers. A few minutes later, he tried opening his eyes again and was surprised his systems weren’t bombarding him with errors. Instead, his status box read safe and Richard’s body was marked as friend/ally. Gavin sighed deeply, dropping into the carefree touch completely.

When Richard dared to look down the next time, the android in his arm was smiling just the slightest and his LED was circling somewhere between blue and yellow – the calmest he had seen Gavin so far. By the end of the movie, Gavin wasn’t moving anymore, the LED pulsing slowly. Nines looked over at Hank questioningly and the android nodded. ‘He’s in stasis now.’ ‘Wow’ Richard said with raised brows, looking down on the sleeping android. Connor sat up and threw them their blanket. ‘You can stay the night if you want. Guess I have to call you Tens now’, he joked. Nines huffed and answered deadpan: ‘Do that and I’ll stop talking to you to go back to Nines.’

[>next part]

[fanpom-imagines]

Being Spider-woman and being part of the Titans whilst also having a rivalry with Jason.

Masterlist

Fandom: Titans

Words: 2192

Warnings: like two cuss words

(Female Reader)

I swung my legs back and forth as I sat on one of the many billboards in the city. With my mask pulled up just up to my nose I took another bite of the burger I was eating. Looking across the streets I gave out a happy sigh and took another bite. As I was about to take another I stopped as I felt my senses tingle.

“Enjoying the food?” Came a voice from behind me.

Turning around a spot a man in a black and blue suit covering him head to shoulders with his eyes covered with a domino mask. I finally mask eye contact with the stranger and take another bite of my burger and hold eye contact with him as I finish chewing and swallow.

“Who are you?” I ask him as I bring my hands down, with the burger, to rest in my lap.

“Nightwing.”

“Spider-woman,” I said before turning back my eyes to the view and picking up my milkshake, taking another sip from it.

“I’ve seen what you do, and what you can do with your abilities,” Nightwing started as he came to sit down next to me, “and I’ve gotta say I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, I guess,” I told him as I gave him a sceptical side eye.

“Look I’m not here to fight you or anything, I’m actually here with an offer.” My ears perked up at that and I looked over to him encouraging him to continue.

“I have this team, of sorts, a lot of times they’re more like family to be honest, but anyways they have abilities, like you. And I’m guessing that you know that society and people with abilities that seem to defy logic don’t really mix well,” I have out a small puff of air at that and took another sip of my shake, “and so I help them. Not just with their abilities, but to have a better life than the one they’re living and to give them a chance to help people.”

“You asking me to join?” I ask him, looking at him once again.

“Yeah, I am,” Nightwing said as we made eye contact. Well more eye contact on my side as you couldn’t make out my eyes through my mask.

I pondered over the offer for a second as I broke eye contact and looked forward staring off. Still feeling Nightwing’s eyes on me my thoughts start to run. Thinking of the benefits of having a team, and the downsides rushing in and out creating a tally system.

“If it doesn’t work out can I leave?” I asked him after a few minutes of contemplation.

“Door will always be open for you to leave or join,” he said simply.

“Ok,” I said, “I’ll take your one week free trial.”

“Good to hear,” he said getting up and making his way to the edge of the billboard. Not getting up I still keep sitting and finishing my meal. Realizing this Nightwing turns around to look at me.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Let me finish my food first.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Guys, this is (F/N) (L/N) a.k.a. Spider-woman,” Nightwing, or Dick Grayson, as he later introduced himself told the rest of his team.

“Hello,” I gave a slight wave to the group of four standing in front of me.

In front of me stood four other teens or young adults. One was a boy probably in his late teens or early twenty giving me an awkward, friendly grin as he gave me a slight wave. He also had green hair which oddly did not seem dyed or look like a wig. There was a pale girl standing next to him who also had the same hair situation, but hers was purple. There was also this red gem in the middle of her forehead, but she also seemed kind as she gave a kind smile. Next came a boy who seemed to be in his early twenties with brown hair sticking out in different directions and his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes studied me, as if trying to analyze my weaknesses. Then last was another boy who also seemed to be the same age as the other two, he was the tallest of the four and hand a red Superman symbol on the chest of his black shirt, but other than that he seemed to be normal. To be fair tho I don’t look out of the ordinary either and I can stick to walls.

“Oh my God, I’ve seen you on YouTube!” The green haired male said in excitement as he took a few steps to stand in front of me and greet me. “Hi I’m Garfield, but just call me Gar,” he greeted as he gave out his arm for me to shake it which I gladly did.

“Hi Gar,” I reply.

“That’s Rachel,” He turns to point at the girl.

“Gar I can introduce myself,” the girl says playfully rolling her eyes as she comes up to me and shakes hands with me. “Hey, (Y/N), I’m Rachel, good to finally have another girl on the team. The testosterone levels were getting too high in this place,” she jokes as I chuckle a bit.

“How do we know we can trust her?” Came the voice of the one with the brown hair as he still didn’t take his eyes off me.

“Jason, I know that what happened with Rose may make this hard, but we need to learn to accept others onto our team. We can’t let one bad experience automatically disqualify anyone new from joining,” Dick replied as Jason scoffed and left the room.

“That’s Jason, there was a girl who joined our team awhile back who ended up-“ Rachel was cut off by Dick.

“Rachel,” Dick told her in warning.

“Anyways,” Gar continued as he motioned for the boy with the Superman symbols to come closer. “That’s Conner, but he’s like a newborn...kinda,” Gar trailed off trying to look for the right words.

“What?” I asked as I looked from Conner to Gar in confusion.

“We’ll explain later,” Rachel said as she grabbed onto my arm and rugged me out of the room. “Now come on let me give you a tour.”

“Let us give you a tour,” Gar said as him and Conner followed.

“Yeah, whatever,” Rachel replies.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been almost a year of being part of the Titans, and honestly it was amazing. I have been looking for a place to live to finally move out of Aunt May’s, though she says I can live with her as long as she wants. I wanted to relieve her of having to take care of two rather than just herself. So now having the opportunity to live in this place with the rest of my team who also double as my roommates is a pretty good deal, plus it’s not too far away from home. So I’ve been able to sling by Aunt May’s a couple of times for a visit.

Being with the Titans has been great. Dick’s been like a father always looking out for me and the rest of the Titans. He also cooks for us a lot which is honestly great because all I can really make are eggs.

Rachel has been like a sister slash best friend. Her and I have hung out a lot and I could see she was glad to finally have someone who was a little more alike to her, not just in gender, but in experience. As both of us struggled at controlling our abilities at first and both have negatively affected our family members, though hers is a bit more extreme than mine.

Gar and I have been binge playing video games staying late up just smashing away at buttons. Good thing I brought over my Xbox as ten two of us played online with each other as we screamed into the microphone at one another.

Conner was sweet and I learned that he was actually a clone, a fucking clone! Honestly to me that was super cool which he didn’t seem to understand, but appreciated nonetheless and I’ve enjoyed showing and teaching him new things.

Jason on the other hand, well he had to warm up to me. Apparently the last new recruit actually ended up betraying them and Jason had a thing for her, so his slight hostility and distrust in me was completely understandable. Yet, overtime as we became closer he warmed up to me and we became friends of sorts. Although, him and I have this playful rivalry going. We literally made everything between each other into a competition. Who can take down the most bad guys? Challenge accepted. Who can get back to the tower the fastest? Challenge accepted. Who can do more pull ups? Challenge accepted. Who can fold their laundry faster? Challenge ducking accepted. But with this friendly competitive relationship between the two of us also came some attraction towards the newest Robin, and honestly I don’t really know how to deal with it so I’ve just been keeping my emotions on lock down till by some miracle he reciprocated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grinned to myself as I crawled on the ceiling looking down at Jason. Slowly I made my way closer and closer to where he was training with his metal staff as he swung again as he let out another breath. As he faces away from me giving me time to jump down silently onto the ground behind him and jab at his right knee pit causing his leg to bend and for him to fall forward.

“What the hell?” Jason yells as he ends up falling into a kneeling position as he has one hand on the floor. He uses it to push himself back up and turn around to swing at me.

Blocking one of Jason’s blows with my hand I move to jab my fist into his abdomen to push him onto the mat. Not expecting it, the new Robin fell to the floor with a loud thud. I gasped out thinking I may have used my super strength to knock him back and made my way to him to make sure he was okay. However, in a sudden movement Jason took the staff and put it behind my neck to trap me to the mat with him.

“Where are your Spidey senses now?” He grinned up at me as he flipped us over on the floor with him on top with both hands still wrapped around the cool metal of the staff.

“Shut up,” I groaned, punching his side lightly. He chuckled at my “attempt” of getting out of his hold.

“You know you’ve been getting the upper hand in this rivalry of ours at every corner, but it seems like for once I’ve got the upper hand. I think I deserve a reward,” he grinned down at me cheekily.

“Oh, and what would your reward be?” I questioned him with a raised brow.

“This,” right as the words left his lips he leaned down to capture his lips with mine. My eyes widened for a millisecond before I smiled into the kiss and closed my eyes whilst pushing my lips back on his. Jason let go of the metal staff and instead led his hands up my throat to hold my face as he deepened the kiss. Biting my bottom lip he swiped his tongue on it right afterwards and I groaned in response before opening my mouth to allow him entrance with his tongue. I in turn had my arms trail from his side one fisting his shirt to pull him closer while the other going up into his hair to slightly tug at it, eliciting a groan from him.

“Are you two serious?” We heard a voice coming from my right and his left. The two of us pull apart, me panting on the floor and him sitting up straddling me whilst also trying to catch his breath, and we both whip our heads to the voice to see Gar standing there with his arms crossed. “Jason you literally asked me to come and train with you.”

“Whoops,” Jason said as he looked back at him giving me a wink before standing up and offering me his hand. Gladly accepting it I grab onto his hand and he pulls me up. “Sorry Gar, kinda loses track of time,” Jason told him, not even taking his eyes off of me.

“I’m sorry ‘bout this Gar,” I said turning to the green haired boy and giving him an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you guys later then,” I told the two before walking out of the entrance opposite of where Garfield entered from.

“Really dude? Why did you have to come in? It was just getting good,” I heard Jason complain at his friend before hearing him pick up the staff and take a whack at Gar which in turn solicited a yelp from the other boy.

“Ow, what the hell, Jason?” I heard from Gar followed by another whacking sound and another yelp from Gar.

[crow-writes-stuff]

Help me sleep

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), possible Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Whumptober 2020, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep Deprived Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya Takes Care of Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Post-Decay of Angels Arc (Bungou Stray Dogs) Series: Part 6 of Soukoku Whumptober 2020 Summary:

Dazai can't sleep. He finally asks Chuuya for help.

Ao3

Dazai stares blankly at the papers in front of him. He's trying to make sense of the black squiggly lines all across them. "Dazai-san?" Atsushi interrupts his concentration. "Hm?" Dazai asks without looking up. Atsushi fidgets with his belt before answering: "You seem really tired. Maybe you should finish early today?" Aw, he's concerned about Dazai! He finally looks up and gives Atsushi a smile. "What makes you say that?" More fidgeting. "Uh, well... For one, the papers you've been looking at are upside-down." Oh. Hm. That explains his troubles. Dazai shrugs and stands up. "Maybe you're right," he says with a cheerful voice, "tell Kunikida I'm calling in sick." This takes Atsushi by surprise, and he stammers through his response. Did he expect more resistance? "Oh, um, s-sure. But, uh, Dazai-san?" Dazai suppresses a sigh and looks back at Atsushi. "Yes?" The boy's expression is absolutely sincere when he asks: "Are you alright? You've been acting a bit strange lately. Everyone is worried." Ah, so Dazai has not been hiding it as well as he thought. He waves Atsushi off with a lazy smile. "I'll be fine, no need worry." That at least seems to placate the other for the moment, and he lets Dazai leave without further questions. Technically, Dazai didn't lie. He is sure that he'll be fine. Eventually. For now, he's leaning against the wall of the staircase and looks down at his shaking hands.

He's so tired. He has barely been sleeping, ever since... Ever since the whole disaster of the Decay of Angels situation. Sure, it worked out for them in the end, but Dazai's mind has known no rest. And neither has his body. He has tried almost everything he could think off to finally get some sleep but to no avail. Logically he knows that he only has two options left. Three, if he considers a successful suicide an option. He really, really would rather avoid both options. Which is precisely what he has done until now. The first is simple and would probably be effective as well. But taking drugs, even if they're regular sleeping pills, leads down a path he knows all too well. So that's a no from him. The second option is the last resort in every case. But what choice does he have at this point? Of course, he could go home and fail to rest again. But he knows how much his body can take and it won't be long until it reaches its limit. Death due to lack of sleep is not what he had pictured for himself.

Dazai sighs and fumbles with his coat to get his phone. The screen looks blurry to him, but that isn't the phones fault. Besides, he doesn't need to see to find what he's looking for. He starts the call and holds the phone to his ear. While listening to the quiet beeps of the starting connection, he sinks down the wall. Might as well sit down while he waits. It doesn't take long for the call to be picked up. "What the fuck do you want?" snarls an all too familiar voice. Dazai smiles. Good old Chuuya. His smile quickly falls again, and he takes a breath. He doesn't want to do this, but he's out of options.

"I need your help." The line goes completely silent. Dazai isn't too worried, though. Because as much as they fight with each other, their partnership has always been build on one fundamental truth; If one of them needs help, the other will provide it. As predicted, Chuuya soon asks: "What do you need?" His voice is even, but Dazai likes to imagine he hears a tiny hint of worry. Dazai almost wants to laugh, but he can't muster the energy. He's going to sound so pathetic. "I can't sleep." Another moment of quiet before Chuuya says: "Dazai if this is some kind of joke..." "It's not," he's quick to respond, "I think... I think I haven't slept for more than two hours this past week." The fact that he's unsure speaks for itself. He can hear a quiet sigh at the other end of the line. "Okay," Chuuya says, "Are you at the Agency?" Dazai nods before he remembers that Chuuya can't tell. His brain really isn't at its regular capacity. "I am." He hears quiet rustling and imagines that Chuuya is sitting at his desk, probably doing paperwork. "Wait there. I'm going to pick you up." The line goes dead without Chuuya waiting for confirmation. He knows Dazai will comply. He's the one that asked for help after all.

Dazai continues staring at the black screen of his phone, before resting his head on his knees. He just wants to finally sleep for more than a few minutes.

He sighs and checks the time. With a start, he realises that he already zoned out for a while. Time to go outside. He doesn't want Chuuya to come in here and perhaps run into someone else from the Agency. That would take to much explaining. Something Dazai does not have the energy for.

He makes his way downstairs and notices that he's swaying slightly. Looks like his sense of balance is also affected by the exhaustion. He's honestly a bit disappointed by his body.

Outside he leans against a wall for support. He doesn't have to wait long for Chuuya to turn up. The expensive red car is an instant giveaway even before it slows to a stop. No one gets out, so Dazai makes his way to the passenger door. He sinks into the leather seat without looking at Chuuya. Chuuya is looking at him, though. Dazai can feel his eyes as if they're burning into his skin. Finally, Chuuya turns to look at the street again. "Seatbelt," he says and starts the car again. He waits for Dazai to comply before driving off. Dazai really wants to make a joke, but his mind is blank. Chuuya usually isn't this concerned with safety, he's pretty confident in his driving. But Dazai notices that the seatbelt prevents him from slumping forward. So he settles back, his head leaning at the window. Perhaps that was the intention.

A hand on his shoulders brings him out of his thoughts. The engine is turned off, and Chuuya is looking at him again. They've already reached their destination. Said destination clearly being the underground garage of Chuuya's home. Dazai isn't surprised. They get out of the car and Dazai trails behind Chuuya as they make their way up to his apartment. He has stuffed his hands into his pockets. Chuuya has probably already noticed the shaking though. As much as Dazai likes to make fun of him, the other is far from stupid.

Dazai goes through the motions of taking off his coat and shoes entirely on autopilot. He only really comes back when a cup of hot tea is placed on the table on front of him. He doesn't even remember sitting down on the couch. Chuuya is sitting across from him. Neither of them has spoken since they started driving. Dazai already thinks that Chuuya is merely waiting him out when his expectations get defied. "This is going on since you came back?" Chuuya's talking about his little prison cell where he tried getting information from Dostoevsky. Of course, Dazai hadn't gotten out, until the threat of the Decay of Angels had been neutralised. But Chuuya is right. Dazai nods. "It's gotten worse over time." In the beginning, he had thought that it would be a temporary thing. That he'd soon be back to his old self. Sleeping on his desk if he wanted, head clear when needed. Instead, he just got less and less sleep.

Chuuya doesn't pressure him into talking more, and he appreciates it. He slowly drinks his tea. It's some kind of herbal mixture, presumably to help him sleep. He already tried that, but he doesn't comment on it. It won't hurt either.

He's staring at his empty cup when Chuuya stands up with a sigh. "Come on then." Dazai looks up at the offered hand and allows himself a tiny smile. Chuuya isn't looking at him anyway. He lets Chuuya pull him to his feet, and they head towards the elaborate bedroom. It's not the first time Dazai is here, but he's still fascinated by the giant dark wood bed frame and the deep red sheets. Chuuya once said, that now that he has money, he's not going to compromise on his own comfort. Looking at the bed, Dazai gets why.

Chuuya is already undressing when Dazai comes out of his thoughts. He turns around and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He places it on one of the chairs in the corner, his pants and socks soon following. When only his underwear is left, he turns back to the bed, where Chuuya already sits crosslegged with the blanket folded back. He's changed into a pair of pyjama pants and is leaning against the headboard. Dazai feels a slight pang at the few unfamiliar scars he spots. He ignores it however and starts crawling into bed. Chuuya easily puts his arms around Dazai and pulls him against his chest. This is far from the first time they have shared a bed. They shift until they're both comfortable, with Dazai having slung one arm over Chuuya, his head resting on the other's chest and their legs tangled together. Dazai closes his eyes, listening to the steady heartbeat of his partner. They may no longer work together, but he's never really stopped seeing Chuuya as that.

Chuuya starts gently playing with his hair and Dazai sighs. He had hoped that he would just fall instantly asleep, but that doesn't seem to be the case. "Everyone is safe," Chuuya says softly, and Dazai stiffens. How does he know what's on his mind? Chuuya sighs now. "So that is what's keeping you up? You're worrying about what happened to your friends." He pauses, waiting for a reaction that doesn't come. "And what you could have done differently to prevent it in the first place." Dazai squeezes his eyes even closer. Chuuya is right. "And you're probably trying to come up with a thousand plans to prevent something like this from happening again." Chuuya definitely knows him too well. Not that Dazai regrets this in any way. Chuuya always was weirdly insightful. And he's the only one with whom Dazai can be truly honest, even if he often isn't. He nods slightly, not reacting otherwise.

Chuuya's voice is gentle when he continues: "You're not going to like it, but there wasn't anything you could have done differently. We were all taken by surprise." He's still stroking Dazai's head, and he relaxes a little again. "And you can't prevent your friends from ever getting hurt again. But when it happens," Chuuya sounds like he's smiling now, "you'll find a way to get them out of it." Dazai sighs softly. Perhaps Chuuya is right once again. "And you won't be alone," Chuuya whispers finally.

Dazai smiles as he finally relaxes completely. Chuuya isn't going to leave. No matter how much he hurt him in the past, they're still partners. Dazai is safe with him. Probably the safest he'll ever be.

"Chibi is getting sentimental," he mutters, barely conscious at this point. Chuuya laughs softly. "Go to sleep, idiot." And Dazai does. Because Chuuya is right. Whatever comes next, he won't be alone to handle it.

[knives-out20]

Nightlife - Cliff Booth x Male!OC

Fandom: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

Pairing: Bobby Brightside (OC) x Cliff Booth

Warnings: Swearing, Slight angst but not really, Deep’s in rehab, Faggotry, Fluff, OOC Cliff but I don’t care it’s literally midnight here give me a break,

Notes: Another Love by Tom Odell got me in a MOOD. Also, I firmly believe in the theory that Aldo Raine and Cliff Booth are the same person and nothing, not even Quentin Tarantino himself, can take that away from me.

Cliff stirred himself awake, not having a source of light asides from the moonlight shining in though the window. He groaned quietly as he rubbed his eye, his other arm outstretching to reach for Bobby. Cliff expected Bobby to have been weirdly awoken, too. 

He did not expect his hand to meet an empty half of the bed.

Cliff turned his head, realizing he was alone in bed- not even in bed, but the entire room, as well. He slowly sat up, the wind coming in through the open window sending him chills. “Bobby-?” Cliff whispered, growing worried. He finally took note of his sense of hearing, and noticed a noise coming from the open window.

Singing? No, he couldn’t make out any words, and it sounded close enough to be able to hear words if any were being sung.

Cliff silently got out of bed, carefully putting on a black t-shirt over his bare torso. He trudged across the room and onto the balcony that the window led to, looking around. Cliff then looked onto the roof of the house.

Bobby lay across the upward-slanted roof, one leg straight out and the other one bent so that his foot was flat on the roof. He held a guitar in his arms, softly strumming and vocalizing to himself. Not quiet enough for Cliff to not hear him, but also not loud enough for the whole street to hear him.

One corner of Cliff’s lips perked up, hands on his hips. He squinted up at Bobby. “Hey, Bobby” Cliff whispered, louder than he did before. “Bobby.”

Bobby opened his eyes, looking down at Cliff. “Oh...hey.”

“What’re you doin’?”

“Doin’ some late-night practicing” Bobby shrugged, no longer playing his guitar. “I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked so...peaceful, I could never fuckin’ ruin that.”

Cliff chuckled breathlessly. “You’re sweet.”

Bobby hummed in response. “I thought to myself, what’s the next best thing that could distract me from my thoughts, if I can’t use Cliff? And, like fate, the moon comin’ in through the window shone onto this guitar. You can physically see the rest of this tale in front of you.”

“Indeed I can” Cliff nodded. He turned around, at the illuminated streets of Hollywood before him. Cliff looked up at Bobby. “Wanna take a walk?”

“Now?” Bobby scoffed.

“Night’s ripe for the takin’. You couldn’t sleep, I can’t sleep, neither of us are in the mood to get each other tired out tonight-”

“Oh my god-”

Cliff shook his head. “We could walk around for a bit. Talk, just me ‘n’ you.”

“And if any rampant hippies come our way? Like back in August?”

“I’ll fend ‘em off like last time, but this time I’m sober. And you’ll be awake as hell.”

Bobby winked, putting his finger on his nose. “Every man for himself.”

“Alright, alright, get down here” Cliff waved his hand dismissively.

Bobby giggled as he slid back onto the balcony. The next few minutes were a blur of Cliff and him getting ready to go outside, next thing he knew being that he was on his front lawn.

Cliff came up behind him. “I locked the front door. We should be good, c’mon.”

Bobby took Cliff’s hand in his own, beginning their walk down the sidewalk.

“When did you...” Cliff paused, clearing his throat. “Last hear from Deep? Or about him?”

Bobby gulped. “Uh...he checked in, when he checked in. When you get into rehab, a sort of wall builds between you and the outside world until you check out. That wall is up super-duper-ooper strong” he told, scratching his chin with his free hand. “I can’t wait to see him again. And it’ll be better than any other time I’ve seen him again, because he himself will be better. He’ll have grown, and become a better person than he was the last time we saw him. Hopefully happier, and healthier. You- You know yourself, on our relationship with drugs. Yours, mine, Deep’s, the other Buddies’, Deep just...Y’know.”

“Yea” Cliff agreed swiftly. “The band feels empty without him, eh?”

“Sure does.”

Cliff squeezed Bobby’s hand. “I know that feeling.”

“Hm?”

“When I just woke up without you...I think I know how you feel when I ain’t around” Cliff admitted. “The window was wide open, I was cold, and the room was dark and empty. It felt weird, man. I didn’t like it at all. Then, I found you on the roof, and I couldn’t stop smiling ‘cause I had you back with me.”

“Now you know how I fuckin’ feel, tough guy, welcome to my world” Bobby teased. “But seriously, I can’t even imagine life without you now, sunlight.”

“You’ve told me so, moonlight. Way too many times for me to count, but enough for me to know it’s true” Cliff beamed, hence his endearingly-given nickname, ‘sunlight’.

“Seriously! I- I mean, I’d rather fucking like...I’d rather get stabbed thirty times, drown, get run over by a car, bathe in lemon juice while I’m covered in fresh cuts, or get beat the fuck out of, instead of see you leave me. I’d rather-”

“Woah, cowboy” Cliff whistled, raising his hand to silence Bobby- it worked. “Feeling’s mutual, trust me...Really, trust me.”

“I’d never think otherwise.”

Cliff licked his lips as they continued walking. “When I try thinking of life without you, I’m thrown back into like...life before you.”

“Like, with...with her-?

“Before her too, actually. Back when I was in the war.”

“Oh, yea, Mr. War Veteran Macho Army Lieutenant man is gonna lecture me of his days in the trench” Bobby mocked, but Cliff and him both knew Bobby loved listening to Cliff just talk. Talk, and talk, and talk about anything and everything.

“Yea, I had this little group of soldiers with me- a lot of ‘em were Jewish, like, uh, like Frankie. I was kinda their leader, and I lost a lot of ‘em along the way. Except for two people. I had this pal, Utivich...he’s probably off in Manhattan somewhere with his gal and the books he wrote. And then there was...” Cliff inhaled sharply, eyes darting down to the sidewalk he tread across.

Bobby tilted his head, lightly nudging Cliff. “Cliffy-?”

“There was a man I had. Before you, and before Billie” Cliff explained, the name bouncing around in his head: Joshua. “His name was Joshua...Joshua Margolis.”

“Fancy name.”

“Yea, I know. He was a fancy guy. We grew up side-by-side but in completely different upbringings. We entered the war together, and left it together. Y’know, you remind me of him, and- and I know this is probably a bad or weird thing t’say-”

“No, no, no” Bobby cut Cliff off, instantly shaking his head. “No, not at all. Tell me about him” he insisted, thumb stroking Cliff’s hand.

Cliff smiled in reminisce. “You both have dark hair, brown. You’re both shorter than me, but not enough for it to have been noticeable. You both just wanted a better world for anyone whose lives were argued against it. He was Jewish, and dating me, a man, so it’s obvious who he wanted to help. You’re both sweet, and real fighters, mentally and physically. I wish you could’ve met him if you weren’t so young around then. You would’ve loved him.”

“Would he have loved me?”

“Oh, no doubt about it, honey” Cliff chortled. “But he’s long gone now. Then came and left Billie. Then came you. And nobody I’ve ever been with, not even Joshua, has made me feel like you do....Safe.”

“I make you feel safe?” Bobby’s eyes went wide.

“Lower your voice, damn-” Cliff shushed him, looking around cautiously. “Weirdly, yes. And it’s strange, ‘cause I know how I make you feel safe, and- and I pride myself on that. I wanna continue making you feel safe, and at home, while you also do the same to me.”

Bobby looked up at Cliff in wonder.

Cliff looked a bit nervous. “You okay, baby-?”

“I love you.”

Cliff’s lips broke out into a soft smile. “I love you too, Bobby.”

The two kept walking, turning a corner that Bobby knew led back to his house. 

“I fight because the world isn’t a good place. It hasn’t been one to me, most days, and it hasn’t been one to other people, everyday. And I- like Joshua, I guess- wanna fucking change that shit. But,” Bobby brought Cliff’s knuckles to his lips, placing a long, adoring kiss onto them. “I forgive the world because it has you in it.”

Cliff felt himself, and dare I say it, blushing. Luckily, it didn’t show under streetlights they passed. “Jeez, man” Cliff giggled.

Bobby smiled to himself. “Ready to head back home?”

Cliff gestured between himself and Bobby, “I already am.”

Bobby shoved Cliff lightly, their giggles melding into one, amazing sound. He led them back to their house, but Bobby knew Cliff had a point.

If Cliff was with Bobby, Cliff’s at home.

If Bobby was with Cliff, Bobby’s at home.

And there’s no changing that.

[hopeswriting]

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: “Oh No, They’re Hot”

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting​

RATING: G

PAIRING: Adult!Colonnello/Adult!Skull

SUMMARY:

Colonnello officially meets Skull for the first time, and he finds him way more hot than a could-be, easy, bully target.

TAG WARNING: Swearing, Sexual Innuendos, Implied/Referenced Bullying

WORDS: 1603

*

How hard could it be to be a punctual human being?

Surely not that hard, seeing as Colonnello was one all his life.

You’d think he would have mastered the art of waiting by then, but if this Skull guy doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, he’ll just leave without looking back.

Or maybe he’ll stay until he shows up, so he can give him a piece of his mind, depending on how long he can make his drink last.

Colonnello rolls his eyes, bumps his head against the wall.

This whole “meeting the Arcobaleno one-on-one as your now teammates” is ridiculous. What is he, a new student at school trying to win the favor of the popular kids?

Colonnello was always among the popular kids, thank you very much. He can’t believe Lal would support this idea, but no matter now.

He just needs to meet the Cloud to be done with it all for good.

Colonnello hears it long before he can see it.

A black and purple motorbike rounds the street corner in a very sharp turn, an equally black and purple driver riding it.

He speeds past the cars in no time, driving around them but keeping so close it’s a wonder they don’t make contact, the sound of the engine revving and the tires against the concrete drowning everything else.

He speeds right past Colonnello, then makes an abrupt u-turn, his motorcycle tipping sideways so low Colonnello doesn’t comprehend how he doesn’t fall, switches lanes, and smoothly parks right in front of him on the sidewalk.

Is this guy… trying to show off to him?

Because it’s working alright.

Colonnello laughs breathlessly, goosebumps up his arms. A chill runs down his spine, adrenaline running through him from just watching.

Oh, he absolutely needs to earn himself a ride.

Skull casually walks up to him, not seeming to care about all the eyes on him. “Hi, I’m Skull. Sorry, I’m not too late, am I?”

Colonnello glances at his watch. Thirty five seconds before five minutes.

This fucker.

“Hi, I’m Colonnello. You are late. I thought we both agreed on the meeting time?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got stuck in traffic.”

Colonnello subtly narrows his eyes. He just can see Skull grinning despite his helmet, and he sure as hell heard it.

This little shit.

“So. You met all the others already?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Skull puts his hands in his pockets, fidgets uncomfortably. “Well, I’m sure you heard all kind of things about me from them, but, you know, I wouldn’t exactly call them Skull specialists.” He shrugs, raises his hand to his head. It bumps against his helmet. “Oh right, my helmet. Hold a second.”

Colonnello’s drink goes down the wrong pipe. He doubles over in a coughing fit, his drink slipping from his hand entirely.

“Woah man, what the hell?”

What the hell?

This guy is hot.

“Are you alright?”

Colonnello pushes his helping hand away, still coughing a little.

Skull’s purple eyes watch him with amusement, highlighted by his purple smokey eye, with heavy mascara on his eyelashes that somehow only draws the gaze more to his eyes.

He nips at the piercing on his bottom lip, linked with the one on his earlobe by a silver chain. Plump lips smeared with purple lipstick spread in a smug smile, emphasizing the teardrop tattoo under his left eye.

His purple hair points in every direction in a stylish mess of a haircut, a fringe falling above his left eye.

And really, it’s a lot of purple, but holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

How did that not come up even once during Lal’s briefings?

“I’m fine, I just swallowed wrong.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Colonnello straightens himself up, shakes his hand from the drink that spilled on him. He licks off the last of it, and oh, he knows that look in Skull’s eyes.

Good. Now they’re even.

“Sorry about that by the way,” Skull says. “These kind of accidents just keep happening around me, and I really just can’t figure out why.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello says, trying to play it off as casually as he can, “can’t imagine why either. I really don’t see anything that could provoke these kind of reactions.”

“Sure.”

“Listen, I’m a really smooth guy, alright?”

“I guess I’ll just have to take your words for it.”

“Fuck off.”

Skull snickers, something purposefully meant to rile him up further. Colonnello doesn’t take the bait, and bites the inside of his cheek to not laugh too.

Shit. Are they flirting? Colonnello can’t have that.

He has a reputation, and standards, and this guy... could very easily meet them, actually.

But he wears leather jumpsuits, chose purple as his defining color, and going on with the design on his helmet, octopuses of all things could get involved at some point.

And unfortunately Colonnello knows for certain it’s not just the symbol of the Carcassa famiglia.

“Oh shit, Immortal Skull?”

They both turn to the pair of teenagers, wide-eyed at the sight of Skull. Skull’s face lights up. He waves his hand excitedly, and poses for them to take a picture.

Colonnello raises his eyebrow.

Right. Stuntman shows, death defying stunts, famous guy.

He snorts. “Isn’t that cute? You have fans.”

Skull’s smile dims, and disappears entirely once the teenagers are on their way. “As a matter of fact, I do. It kind of comes together with being famous.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello scoffs, “famous for riding bikes.”

Skull doesn’t wince, not quite, but Colonnello catches his face twitching. He puts his free hand in his pocket, hunches his shoulders.

His voice is carefully neutral. “Yeah, for riding bikes. With hundreds upon hundreds of hours of training behind the handle, but no big deal right? Listen, can you...” he sighs deeply, meets his eye again “... just not? We literally just met? Or at least don’t come for the literal greatest passion of my life right off the bat, maybe? I don’t know man, just cut me some slack.”

“Sorry.”

Skull blinks. Colonnello blinks.

Well, that came out embarrassingly easily. And it did sound an awful lot sincere, if Skull’s more open face and posture is anything to go by.

Fucking hell, what is he doing? Playing nice? Is he actually trying to get on Skull’s good side?

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Colonnello watches the last of Skull’s hesitance disappears in his eyes, a smile slowly pulling at his lips until he grins at him again. “So, should we wrap this up? Or maybe we could keep meeting each other for a bit?”

Colonnello peers above his shoulder, at the sleek black and unfortunately purple motorbike.

Now, how much does he really want this ride?

“Sure,” he says, walking past him. He puts a leg over the bike, and sits comfortably on the back seat.

Maybe if he’s really good, Skull will let him drive it.

“Excuse you,” Skull splutters, “do you think I just let anyone ride my baby?”

“Excuse you,” Colonnello shots back, “take another good look at me and maybe you’ll realize I’m not anyone.”

“Right, you’re doing me a favor, is that it?” Skull crosses his arms on his chest, in what Colonnello supposes should have been an intimidating move. “I mean, you’re really hot alright, but I meet plenty of hot people on a daily basis. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Take another really good look at me, and maybe you’ll realize I’m a category of my own among hot people.”

Skull laughs, very clearly despite himself, the hard-to-get act nowhere to be seen. He chews on his lip a bit, but Colonnello knows he already won the argument.

“You just doesn’t have any will, do you?”

“Oh, hush.” Skull rolls his eyes, shoves him playfully. “Maybe I’m just weak for pretty people.”

Colonnello mournfully watches him puts his ugly helmet back on, and rethink his life choices. Really, this goddamned Curse just might have affected his tastes too.

“You know, I did hear things. And I must say I don’t understand.”

Skull throws his hands up in the air. “I know right? You’d think I would have gotten laid with, I don’t know, at least three of them by now. Well, minus Luce of course.” Colonnello gets whiplash. What even—? “No offense to you. I know you have a thing going on with Lal.”

“No, let’s stay focused. That’s where your priorities lie?”

Skull shrugs, takes his place in the driver seat. “I mean, in exchange of all this shit I didn’t sign up for? I think it would have been the barest fucking minimum.”

Colonnello bursts out laughing, because really, what else is there to do?

Not that he doesn’t strongly share the sentiment. He met the others too, and does vividly remember what they look like.

Skull revs the engine, and hell yeah, here they go.

Colonnello wraps his arms loosely around his waist, leans a bit too comfortably maybe against his back, rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Tell you what.”

Skull catches his eye in the rear view mirror. “I’m listening.”

“If you impress me really hard right now—”

“What, with my driving skills you mean? Is that supposed to be a challenge?”

“—and make me spend a really nice time with you,” Colonnello continues, ignoring him, “I just might do an exception for you to the “not on the first night” rule.”

Skull chuckles low in his throat, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He lowers his visor.

“This better be a promise, because I’ll hold you to that.”

*

The anime watchers only might not know that, because the anime did him so dirty, but Skull is straight up handsome.

I, for one, at the very least, find him very pretty, really handsome, and yes, straight up gorgeous. And it’s a hill I will die on, and I won’t hear any criticism on that.

Also I enjoyed myself writing this so much. Could you tell? Because this is my khr otp as of now, and I wish they’d be hundreds more fics about them for me to read.

Rarepair hell is, well, hell lmao.

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Some Sense of Normalcy ch.4 (baon)

Summary: It’s Edge’s first day back to work at the Embassy, but his job isn’t the only thing on his mind.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Injury

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~*~~

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read Chapter 4 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

At almost exactly ten minutes on the dot there came a knock on Alphys’s office door and if Stretch didn’t already love Edge, he would at least have thrown a dollar store valentine his way for the rescue from Alphys’s monologue on how the Kissy Cutie fandom really didn’t understand the true motives of the main characters and the pureness of their love, and how was she supposed to read about that and not comment, she couldn’t, right, and did he think she did the right thing?

That sharp, precise knock interrupted her and before Alphys could say a word, Stretch was already calling out, “come on in, babe, you’re the next contestant on—”

He trailed off as the door opened and Edge came inside. Or, more accurately, he scooted inside. Not like the scooters the kids used to zoom around on the streets of New New Home, oh, no. He’d said it was getting his mobility scooter today and it was so much better than Stretch could have ever hoped.

First, it was red, metallic candy-apple red, and whether Edge ordered it to match his car or the doc had a sense of humor did not matter. There was padded sort of seat for Edge to put his knee and there were handlebars and a hand brake and best of all, a little wire basket for Edge to put any of his work stuff. Holy shit but Stretch would pay good money up front for a photograph of Edge dignifiedly tooling through the hallways in his business suit with his bright red scooter, a cup of coffee secured in his basket along with a collection of folders, maybe even a scone wrapped up in a paper napkin.

Stretch wondered if Edge would kill him if he put a bike horn on it or just maim him. Probably banishment, max, and it might be worth a night or two on the sofa just to see the look on his face, way better than the cool, stoic look he wore now, tempered with a hint of worry.

Seriously, he didn’t want to make his baby self-conscious, but it was a scooter and if Stretch kept resisting the urge to make a pun, it might result in actual bodily harm.

He propped his chin on his hand and gave Edge the best cheeky grin he could manage, considering his lack of cheeks, “nice new wheels, babe, that how you roll? lemme scoot aside and you can have my seat.”

The scathing glare Edge shot is way might’ve knocked the points off his new HP growth, but hey, least Edge wasn’t worried anymore.

Edge ignored the stifled snort from Alphys, who was diligently trying to keep a straight face, points to her for staying out of the line of fire. Stretch was pretty sure that by definition, scooters weren’t listed anywhere in the Esquire guide for a business-like appearance, so it was pretty impressive how Edge managed to scoot on up to the chair, all but radiating poise. Hell, Asgore needed to take some tips from his honey about majesty, seriously, those Hawaiian shirts of his were an embarrassment for all of Monster-kind.

Edge settled into the seat, shrugging Stretch off when he tried to lean against his back, his spine ramrod straight as he asked, coolly, “What can I do for you, Alphys?”

Oof, looked like Edge wasn’t in the mood for jokes if Stretch wasn’t rating a greeting. That Edge wasn’t asking what he was doing here in the first place was a fair sign that he was either hacked off or respecting privacy until he could corner him alone. Maybe both.

“Th-thank you for coming down,” Alphys said. She looked uncomfortable enough to make Stretch regret yanking Edge’s chain. Didn’t stop her from forcing out, “I w-w-would have sent an email, but Asgore p-prefers we don’t keep an electronic t-t-trail for these studies.” The way she flicked a glance at Stretch when she said Asgore’s name meant his unsubtle dislike of the King was getting around the rumor mill. “You b-both know we’re working on studying M-monster souls.”

“yeah?” Stretch said warily. That wasn’t news, souls had been studied since Monsters evolved enough sentience to poke at ‘em with a stick.

“We’re c-currently studying the r-resonance of souls and how it d-differs between different Monster s-s-species.” She spread her hands, tittering nervously, “Obviously, it’s more c-complex than that. B-b-both of you have clearance to read the r-results if you’re interested, but you’d have to do it in the lab, the d-d-data isn’t cleared for general release.”

Yeah, there was some reading material that wasn’t about to end up in Stretch’s mental librarby, no thank you. Edge was tapping his gloved fingers against his knee in that way he did when he was getting impatient. It was his first day back, he probably had shit to get done, so maybe it was time to push Al to cut to the chase, “so, what, you want to get some measurements from skeletons, is that it?”

“N-not exactly,” Alphys leaned forward across her desk, her eyes gleaming behind her glasses, “I already have r-readings from Sans and Papyrus. What I’m investigating is if th-there is any difference in resonance of s-souls from the other Universes. Blue let me scan his s-soul already and—er—” She cleared her throat uncomfortably, “Red has already d-d-d-“ Alphys struggled and finally spat out, “declined.”

Yeah, Stretch bet he had. Now there was a conversation Stretch would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall to see. Kudos to Al for having the cojones to even ask Red.

Alphys didn’t linger on whatever mental scars that chat left her with and went on, “That l-leaves you and Stretch—”

“No,” Edge said immediately. The word was sharp enough to cut and it might if Edge kept flinging it around.

Alphys only nodded, accepting, “O-of course.”

“hey, wait a second!" Stretch straightened up, offended, “i get my own vote here, we left the word obey out of the vows, thanks.”

Edge only glanced at him briefly, “Of course I wouldn’t presume to speak for Stretch, only myself. I…” Edge hesitated, his fingers starting to dig in where his hand rested on his pant leg. “You must be aware that I have LV.”

“I am,” Alphys agreed, softly, nothing but kindness in her broad face, “but it w-won’t affect the scan.”

Edge nodded stiffly, “I’m sure. But my answer is still no, I’m afraid.”

“I understand,” Alphys said. Her gaze flicked to Stretch, hopefully, “W-would you be w-willing, Stretch?”

Well, hell. Hadn’t thought that through very well, had he, too busy getting pissy about making his own choices. It wasn’t showing his soul that was the problem; fuck, Alphys was literally just plugged into it and it wasn’t like most of the medical community hadn’t taken a solid look at his soul already. The only way it’d get more exposure is if he’d sent a pic in to be the centerfold in some skin magazine. Yeah, he was okay with the soul part, it was the scan he wasn’t so sure about and the look on Edge’s face said pretty clearly that he wasn’t okay with either or.

But Alphys was trying to help him out, he owed her one, and if it was only a scan…maybe better to hedge his bets. “how invasive is it?”

“It’s only a s-scan,” Alphys said reassuringly. “You’ll n-need to s-s-summon your s-soul and leave it exposed f-for a couple of minutes, no more th-than that and no samples.”

Edge was all but radiating no, no, no, and that was enough for him to hesitate. His baby’s comfort was important, sure, but Stretch could appreciate the necessity of scientific progress. If scanning his soul could help someone, then he could suck it up this once. Sure. He could. “can you do it now or do you need me to stop by later?”

“Now is fine.” Alphys looked relieved, already hopping out of her chair. “The m-machine is in the other r-room, follow me.”

It was so damned hard not to bristle at the phrase ‘the machine’.

Stretch followed her out of the office, his sneakers dragging on the floor and his gaze firmly fixed on her tail. He didn’t look back at Edge scooting along behind him. They didn’t go far and the anxiety that was starting to itch at the inside of his rib cage eased a little when he saw the inside of the room.

There was a nicely padded table in the middle of the room with a couple long, flexible wands attached to it. No gleaming stainless steel, no restraints, and nothing at all like the portal machine or…huh, he didn’t quite remember what else. Didn’t matter, this looked less threatening than an x-ray machine from any doc’s office.

Alphys patted the table. “Lay d-down right here. I’ll be in the other r-room configuring the machine. S-summon your soul, I’ll get a s-s-scan, and its done. T-take your time.”

She waddled off and left Stretch there, looking at that table, at the little wands with their lenses focused right in the middle. He took a breath, let it out, then flopped down, living up to his namesake as he stretched out. The table was a little short, his feet hung off the end, uncomfortable but bearable. It was okay, it was all good. Stretch could do this, no sweat, summon his soul and let her scan it, then he was getting the fuck out of here and out into the sunlight.

“Let me summon your soul,” Edge said suddenly, startling him so badly he nearly yelped. Fuck, he’d almost forgotten Edge was even here. Stretch opened his sockets and looked up at his husband looming over him. Crimson eye lights met his own and there was no mistaking his concern. It helped, knowing he wasn’t alone here, that Edge was with him. Edge wouldn’t let anyone do a damn thing that Stretch didn’t want them to, he’d tear the whole lab down with his bare hands if someone hurt Stretch and he believed that with every bit of his trembling soul.

Then the words actually registered.

“um, okay.” Stretch gave Edge a narrow, suspicious look, “but no touchie, you. if you start touching, it gets all excited and i am not riding the bus with soul jizz on my shirt.”

The corner of Edge’s mouth quirked upward. Of course he’d think that was funny, the pervert. He ran a gloved finger gently down the side of Stretch’s skull, tracing the line of his jawbone. “At least the Humans won’t know what it is.”

“yeah?” Stretch snorted, “and any monsters will think i’m headed home from the orgy scene of a less than tasteful porno. my gossip tank is full up right now, thanks, no touch, got it?”

“No touching,” Edge agreed, softly, so it was pretty stupid that Stretch felt bereft as he pulled his hands away.

Stretch closed his sockets, focusing on his breathing. A long moment of nothing and then came a gentle, insistent pull, painlessly urging his soul to emerge. The touch was achingly familiar and Stretch relaxed into it and let go, felt the cool air on his soul as it manifested for the second time that day. A quick peek showed Edge was going with the ol’ sibling standby of ‘I’m not touching you’, and he wasn’t, but it sure was a close thing. Both his bare hands were cradled around it, a protective bony barrier as a replacement for his own rib cage, the silver glow of his soul reflecting off the ivory bones, seeping through Edge’s fingers to fill the room.

Alphys’s voice came from a speaker overhead, “Edge, you’ll have to step back so I can scan it.”

Even without Edge touching his soul directly, Stretch could feel his reluctance as he slowly stepped back. Souls were like radar dishes for magic and Stretch was already overly sensitive on a good day, even without his soul lurking outside his body all bare-ass naked. Checks irritated him when others barely seemed to feel them, Intent came rolling in like he was accidently tuning in to bad AM radio station and right now, he was picking up something from Edge past his unwillingness to let go.

The faintest glint of green, healing magic, hm, in-ter-esting, someone had used healing magic on Edge and recently, very recently, and Stretch almost asked what the fuck was up with that, except maybe lying here with his soul hanging out wasn’t the best time for a chat. Particularly when he’d snuck down here to visit Alphys on the sly to begin with.

Yeah, okay, if he got to keep his secrets then Edge could have this one. For now.

Edge had hardly let go when Alphys’s voice came overhead again. “Done.”

Stretch hastily let his soul fade back in, scrambling to his feet as Alphys came back in from the other room.

“T-thank you, Stretch,” she said happily, “Edge, if you ch-change your mind, let me know?”

“Of course,” Edge said crisply, in a tone that meant ‘not fucking likely.’

“yep, he will,” Stretch blurted, already backing his way towards the door. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he’d had just about enough of the labs today and he needed to get out, right now, before he vomited on the nice, clean floors. “thanks for everything, al, see ya!”

He didn’t wait to see if Edge follow him, didn’t wait for Alphys to ask to see him again or for any other favors or even to bring up anime. He headed right to the elevators, ignoring anyone else that he passed in a white coat. He slapped the up button so hard his hand ached, silently commanding it to hurry the fuck up and open because that nausea was sitting right at the back of his throat, thick and sickly-sweet.

“Easy,” Murmured next to him, “Try to slow your breathing.”

Stretch only stared blindly at the closed door and didn’t say anything because if he did, that morning’s partially incorporated coffee was going to make a return appearance. The elevator dinged and Stretch all but crammed through the opening doors, stumbling to the back to press his overheated face against the cool metal. He heard the door close behind him, felt as elevator lurched and started up.

Even without looking, Stretch knew Edge was standing next to him, watching him with concern and trying to resist the urge to touch. Respecting boundaries, that was his baby, always trying so hard.

“it’s okay, you can go hands on,” Stretch mumbled. Immediately, a soothingly cool hand settled on the back of his neck, a strong thumb rubbing gently along his cervical vertebra.

“Are you all right?” Edge asked, gently blunt.

“getting there.” Stretch took a deep breath and stood up straight, leaning into the comfort of Edge’s touch. “we still on for lunch?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of you coming to my office and lying down for a bit.”

Stretch nodded, weakly, “that works, too.”

Another ding warned that they were at their floor and Stretch turned towards the door as it opened. There was nothing out there but offices, people in business suits at their desks and making copies and typing away at their computers. No labs, no experiments, only paperwork and administration.

Knowing that made it easier to step out this time, walking towards Edge’s office with the skeleton himself scooting along next to him. Stretch stuck his hands in his pockets, moseying along, his lingering agitation slowly easing. At least the scooter kept Edge to a pace a little less than his normal power walk; maybe that was a high HP thing, Papyrus always chugged along at top speed and Blue might have shorter legs, but he always kept pace with those two.

Huh. Thinking of HP…

“so.” Stretch kept his gaze on the floor, watching the way the untied laces of his sneakers trailed along the carpet. “you gonna ask what i was doing down there.”

“I am not,” Edge said calmly. Seriously, it was really impressive how dignified he could make riding along on a kneeling scooter look. “If it is something important concerning your health or someone else’s, I’m sure that as my husband, you would tell me and not go down to the labs alone while trying to keep secrets from me out of a misguided attempt to protect me or shield me from any issues that as your spouse should be mine to help you deal with—”

“yeah, yeah, edgelord, i get it, quit shoveling the guilt, i’m already knee-deep.” Stretch took a deep breath and let the words come, “i went to see al because i wanted her to scan my hp. we kinda got off track with it after, you know, everything, and lately i’ve been feeling tired. not…not bad tired, not too bad…i’m doing a shitty job explaining it.”

“You’re doing fine.” Yeah, like he couldn’t see the way Edge’s jaw was working, the slight twitch in his cracked socket. Even the pace he was scooting at changed, stiffened, his highly polished shoe scraping against the rug.

“let me just cut to the spoiler alert,” Stretch said. He ignored the quiver in his voice as he spit it out, “my hp is going up. like, permanently.”

Edge stopped completely, right in the middle of the hall. Two interns who were walking close behind almost ran right into them, and whatever bitching they were about to toss out was swallowed down when they got a good look at who they almost ran over. Edge didn’t even watch them scurry on down the hall. His eye lights stayed right on Stretch, sockets hooded and his expression unreadable.

Hurriedly, Stretch went on, “it’s not huge, only, when it got to 5, looks like it decided, what the hell, let’s keep going up, it’s 5 and change now, not super impressive but—urk!’

Of all the reactions Stretch was expecting, having Edge pick him up right in the middle of the damn hallway to hold him tightly was nowhere on the list, but here they were, him lifted completely off his feet while strong arms crushed him into Edge’s embrace.

People were probably staring and Stretch didn't give two goodie goodie shoes because holy shit, this was actually happening. Barring the time Edge carried Stretch through the Embassy in a sheet in a misguided attempt at protecting his non-existent dignity, the most Stretch usually got in the way of PDA was hand holding and the occasional peck of a kiss.

“edge!” Stretch gasped out, mostly laughing with a pinch of scolding, “put me down, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

He might as well have saved what little breath he had since that didn’t happen. Instead, Edge spun them around like this was some beach movie and they'd just done the long run across the sand to embrace in front of the sunset. Stretch could only hold on dizzily, laughing and trying to squirm loose without actually getting there.

It was a relief and a disappointment when Edge finally set him on his feet, and that was only to cup his face in both hands as Edge rose up on his toes to scatter kisses over his face. By the time he drew back, Stretch’s whole face felt a little damp and the only thing dimming his giddiness was the sight of faint tears rimming Edge’s eye sockets.

"hey." Stretch ran a thumb along the rim of the socket, gathering dampness, "it's good news. you don't cry for that."

A rare smile lit Edge’s face, lit him, and Stretch wanted to capture that image in his own mind, whisk it away someplace safe to bring out whenever his inner sadness loomed threateningly.

"You do if it’s about the person you love," Edge told him, hushed, and leaned up to press a soft, lingering kiss to Stretch’s mouth. Right about that moment, from somewhere nearby came the muffled sound of an ‘aww’ and Edge immediately jerked back, all signs of that smile vanishing.

Ah, well, good thing Stretch had an excellent memory, right?

“Let’s discuss this in my office,” Edge murmured as he dusted off his jacket and straightened his tie before he started up the scoot again.

Luckily, it wasn’t too far away. Stretch managed to give Janice a wave even as Edge herded him into his office. The door was barely closed when Edge had both hands on him again, shoving him back against the door and kissing him with deep, fervent delight. It was a huge disappointment, particularly in his pants, when Edge drew away, holding Stretch back when he would have dived in again.

His smile was fainter, softer, and that was okay because it was still there as Edge asked, “Was she able to tell you anything else? It’s certainly good news, but why now?”

“dunno,” Stretch shrugged and when Edge didn’t let him go for another kiss, he sighed and added, “she did mention something about monster souls responding well to being happy.” If kisses weren’t gonna pan out, Stretch could at least give Edge a poke in the ribs, right where he wasn’t supposed to be ticklish. “looks like you’re holding up your end of the bargain in the whole happily ever after thing.”

Instead of being amused, Edge’s expression fell a little, his smile fading and that was exactly the opposite of what Stretch was hoping for, “babe?”

Edge ducked his head, his voice dropping in something like a hoarse confession, “Lately, I haven't felt like I'm making you very happy, Rus.”

Okay, yeah, no, not going there. Stretch shook off Edge’s hands and instead of shoving in for a kiss, he took a quick shortcut and stepped out behind him, wrapping Edge up in the little spoon of a tight hug. "nope, none of that. babe, even when things are rough on our personal roller coaster, you always make me happy. always. you are my happy ending, you get me?”

Gloved hands settled on his wrists, holding on gently as Edge leaned back into his arms, “I’d rather be your happy beginning, love.”

“endings, beginnings, whatever part of the story we’re at, you make me happy,” Stretch told him fiercely. He buried his face into the crux of Edge’s shoulder where the collar of his shirt met his cervical vertebrae, breathing in the familiar mixture of laundry detergent and spice. “every chapter of our lives, every misplaced comma and run-on sentence, every—”

“You’re losing the metaphor,” Edge said dryly. He turned in Stretch’s arms, his mouth warm and meltingly gentle, and this, yes, this. This was his happiness and Stretch planned to hold on as tight as he could, with fingers and toes.

“you wanna see my soul?” Stretch murmured against Edge’s mouth, just to see the hot, eager flare of crimson eye lights. It was already manifesting in his rib cage as Edge walked him backwards to the sofa, silver slickness beading on the surface and if he had to lose his shirt for a hasty cleanup after, welp, that was a sacrifice Stretch was more than willing to make.

-fin

[starker-stories]

Iron Man

Also on AO3

Another of the moodboards by @starker-sorbet​ inspired this one. Whenever I'm looking for a bit of inspiration, that's where I go. There are moodboards there that just talk to me. Amazing work. The best moodboards in the fandom.

Click on the link to go see the pretty pictures :) Young, rich & promising app developer!Peter x ex hacker and now struggling homeless middle aged!Tony for anon. Peter takes pity on the man and gets him in his house to shelter him on rainy/snowy night.

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Hacking, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Homeless Tony Stark, Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Pre-Slash, Ex-Con Tony Stark, Rich Successful Peter Parker

------------------------------------------------------------------

The man didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t have a sign or a cup or his hat off and upside down on the ground in front of him. He was just leaning against the wall of a little delivery drive between stores near Grand Central. Something about his look, maybe the amount of snow he had on his cap, said he’d been standing there for awhile. He was wearing an old, frayed woolen top coat. The sort worn over a suit. Beneath it only a ratty t-shirt and baggy jeans. None of which would keep the man warm enough. Not when it was already in the teens and going to drop below zero that night.

Peter took a twenty out of his wallet and put it back. He folded the bill so it could be passed discreetly, but had the value showing. He didn’t want any other homeless people to see how much money the man had. Peter had read that thievery and violence was endemic to that class. He stopped just before he got to the man, standing off to the side of him, not directly in front, not threatening.

“For whatever, dude,” he said, holding out his hand as if to be shaken, but with the bill showing. The man shook his hand and nodded his thanks. “You need to get to a shelter. The city’s opening warming centers.”

The man scoffed. “It’s safer out here.” He started to walk away. “Thanks for the donation,” he said with another nod.

“How much to get an SRO for the night?” Peter asked, falling in to walk beside the man.

“Only by the week and only if there’s room and only if you have about a hundred.”

“The money’s not a problem…”

The man muttered, interrupting, “Wouldn’t think so.”

Peter passed it off. He was exceptionally well dressed. A coat like the man himself wore, only not frayed and this season’s style. Beneath it a suit. He’d been heading back to his hotel after a meeting, or else he’d be dressed down, Silicon Valley style.

“Okay, then let’s solve the other problem.” Peter always thought in terms of problem solving. Breaking a matter down into segments, creating an algorithm to work towards a solution. “Availability. How do we do that?”

The man shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Got a real California boy genius problem solver here. We walk, rich kid, we walk. Spoil those Louboutin’s with the salt and slush.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “How do you know I’m from California. I don’t tan.” The man smirked and kept on walking. There was something familiar about the expression.

Against his better judgement, Peter kept walking beside the man, even as he led him down a winding path, the blocks getting progressively worse in appearance. It was a very long walk. “What’s your story?” he asked just to fill the silence.

“Want me to sing for my supper? Don’t think so.”

“You weren’t panhandling.”

“Not there. Too close to the terminal. They move you on immediately if you put your hand out. Holding up a wall? You can get away with that for a bit.”

“Why waste your time there, then?”

The man shrugged his head to the side and spread his arms a little, hands upturned. Again, Peter was struck with an odd familiarity in the gesture. He watched the man move, falling a step behind to see his walk. Unlike most homeless, there was no slouch, no shuffle. He walked upright, steadily forward, with surprisingly confident, hurried steps.

The man gave a little chuckle and fell back to walking beside, not ahead, of Peter, but didn’t change his gait. “My time to waste,” he said. They walked silently for another block. “How was the 7 line to Queens today? Riding for old times’ sake instead of taking an Uber?”

Peter reached out and took the man’s sleeve, stopping their progress. “Do you know me?”

“Peter Parker. ParkerSoft.” The man brushed Peter’s hand off his sleeve and kept walking. “Another block. They usually have rooms.”

Peter stopped them again. “Do I know you?”

The man smirked again. “Nope.” He started walking again. “‘I don’t associate with Star Wars twerps and noobs’,” he said, giving Peter the same line he’d sent when the kid was a ten year old exploring corners of the web he didn’t belong in.

That time Peter grabbed the man’s arm, turned him away from the street and pushed him against the wall. “Holy fuck, you’re Iron Man!”

The man snorted. “WAS Iron Man. Now? Just being near that particular brand of phone,” he nodded towards Peter’s pocket, “is a violation of my supervised release.”

“Shit. I remember reading about your trial. Iron Man is Tony Stark.” The pieces were all falling together. The place where the man was leaning had a good view of Osborn Tower, formerly Stark Tower. And the phone in Peter’s pocket was made by Stark Industries.

“That, I still am, for all the name’s worth.”

“It’s still worth something.”

Tony laughed. “The board locked me out. And even if they hadn’t? Try running my business without going near a computer. Tony Stark’s as dead as Iron Man. You getting me this room or what?”

“Come back to the Langham with me,” Peter said excitedly.

He shook his head. “I mean it, kid. I’m not going back to prison so you can tap my brain and get me to do some work for you,” Tony said.

“I thought if you got caught at your level of hacking, the FBI or the NSA offered you a job.”

Tony laughed uproariously. “Still a noob. You believe that shit? The only thing they offer you is a six by eight room for fifteen years. And not at some country club estate.”

The problem solving wheels were spinning in Peter’s head. “Okay. Room first.” Peter grabbed Tony’s hand in his and headed into the SRO’s lobby. He paid for a month.

“Lose your bag, kid,” Tony said before they left the desk. “You’ve got my phone, you’ve probably got the tablet and I know you’ve got the laptop with the severely dumbed down version of JARVIS in there. He, I most definitely am not allowed near.” Tony smirked again. “’Course neither is anyone else.”

Peter put his phone in his messenger bag, and with a couple hundred incentive, left it with the desk clerk, hoping it would still be there. If it wasn’t and someone tried to access any of his electronics without his biometrics, everything would erase and the batteries would overheat, literally frying everything inside. He followed Tony up the stairs to his newly rented room. He plopped himself into the one chair in it.

Tony sat on the end of the sagging double bed. “So… TANSTAAFL. What do you want from me for the room?”

“I don’t want anything.”

Tony snorted. “If you didn’t want anything, you’d’ve upped that twenty to a hundred and walked on to your next meeting.”

Peter fell silent. “I want to test the limits of your cage. See what I can do to get them expanded.”

He chuckled harshly. “Easy for you to say from where you’re sitting. Before I lost it all, I threw everything I had at this problem. I had the best lawyers. Paid politicians at the highest level in my pocket. I was too damn high-profile for them to do anything. All the favors suddenly dried up because everyone knew I’d be in prison and be unable to make good on any deal. I’m worthless, Parker. This is it.” Tony spread his hands expansively, taking in the small room. “The limits of my cage, as you put it. It’s bigger than six by eight. And I can walk out that door whenever I want. After fifteen years, I count myself ahead.” He leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “I have nine more years of my ten supervised release to do. I am not spending that time back in prison. The limits of this cage don't get tested.”

“I thought you completed your sentence; you were free.”

“Fuckin’…” Tony shook his head. “Yeah, I got sentenced to fifteen, served fifteen. I got caught in defense systems. Federal time. No parole in that system. And after? They can do whatever the fuck they want to you. God, you’re naive, Parker.”

“Okay. So there’s no getting around the electronics restriction…”

“Nope.”

“Do you need access to code?”

“You are a piece of work,” he said shaking his head. “I am not coding for ParkerSoft. You can’t afford me,” Tony said, arrogantly.

Peter shrugged and looked around the room.

“Bye, Parker,” Tony said, standing up and heading for the door. “Better hope they never catch the Spider. Or I’ll be sharing a street corner with you.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “How did you…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Tony turned and leaned his back against the door. “You were ten when I met you in the warez channels. And as you got older, you went everywhere bragging about every system you walked around in. You wrote lazy, distinctive code — still do. Anyone who looks at your old code and compares it to the shitty apps your company puts out would catch you in a minute.” “You don’t get it. I didn’t get it. How… ephemeral… this all is.” He crossed his left arm low across his body, holding his wrist.

“There’s nothing solid in the world, no matter how much we pretend there is. There are a million ways for you to end up like me, even if you never get caught. ParkerSoft has employees living in their cars, and you won’t even let them stay safely in your parking lots much less pay them a living wage for the area. Stark had them too. Living in places like this because the cost of living in New York is mad. At our lowest level, we had people taking sponge baths in McDonalds and sleeping wherever they could.

“I had no idea. Even if I did, I would’ve thought it was their own fault for lacking ambition or skill. You need to get it through your head. This is it for me. Maybe in nine years, if I live that long, I can manage to build a little something again to carry me through my sixties. Probably not.” He sniffed, scrunching his face.

“Then why not work for me?”

“Because, kid, I don’t trust you. You are going to brag about having Iron Man or Tony Stark writing your code. You can’t shut your fuckin’ mouth. I’m too big a get for you to just sit on that information.

“Second, not only can’t you pay me what I’m worth, you can’t pay me at all. I can’t have income without a job. I can’t get a job. Getting this place? I can say I got lucky panhandling. More than that?” Tony shook his head. “Not risking it.”

“C’mon, Tony. It’s a system. It can be gamed,” Peter said, enthusiastically. “You and me? Best in the business.”

Tony snorted at the kid putting himself in his category.

“Don’t judge me by my apps. That’s money.”

“What else do you have to judge you by? Certainly not your hacking skills.”

“I do games…”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Everybody does games. Thrill me.”

“Security.”

“Walk me through it.”

Peter explained the companies that he personally provided security for and how he did it. Tony grudgingly gave him a side nod. He went back to sit on the bed. “Interesting, but, eh… not exactly…”

“I’ve reverse engineered JARVIS,” Peter spluttered out.

“The OS on your computer may have his name but…”

“Not the OS. That was just the starting place.”

“Impossible.”

“Okay. I haven’t done it completely…”

“No shit.”

“But I’ve gotten farther than anyone. JARVIS is the big get our world right now. Has been since you went away. No one else has gotten past the OS.”

“But you have,” Tony said skeptically.

“I have his visual manipulation systems. The true natural language, not the crappy OS version.”

“Personality?”

Peter shook his head. “None of his personality or on-the-fly problem solving. Not…”

“So none of what makes JARVIS, JARVIS. Just a slightly more advanced OS that you’ll never be able to use because Stark still owns the rights to him even if they can’t get to him.”

“I’m looking to put together a buyout of Stark. Not just their computer division. The works.”

“You don’t have the resources, kid.”

“It’s not worth what it used to be.”

“I know exactly what my company is worth. Without me, it’s been rushing for the bottom. Pepper can’t salvage it, even though she’s good.

“Exactly. A decent offer, the board wouldn’t turn it down. They’re looking to cash out while what’s left is still worth something. A little manipulation…”

“You’ll get caught.”

“No I won’t.”

“Not gonna argue with you. You still don’t have the resources to buy Stark, even at a bargain.”

“When I turned twenty-one five years ago, I inherited my parents’ estate. Including my father’s chemical patents.”

“Okay,” Tony said, nodding once. Richard Parker had done some groundbreaking research. Stark had tried to hire him and failed. “But none of what you say, none of your ‘gaming the system’ gets me out of my situation. You can’t ‘game’ your way out of supervised release.”

“Your connections, give them to me.”

“Wow. You’ve got balls, kid. Anything else of mine you want in exchange for a three fifty a month room?”

“Yeah.”

Tony snorted. “Go on. Tell me. You want me to code. You want JARVIS. You want my connections. What else?”

Peter stood up and walked closer to Tony. “I want you to put me on this bed and fuck me brainless.”

Tony threw his head back and laughed. He looked up at Peter, ran his gaze up and down him, then laughed some more.

“What!” Peter said, offended at the apparent rejection.

“I’m far more than twice your age. I look like shit. I haven’t had a shower in a year. I’m fifteen kinds of filthy. And you want me to fuck you. What the hell kinda kink you got, kid?”

“You are still as fuckin’ gorgeous as ever. And brilliant. But I can’t fuck your brain. There’s showers down the hall, the guy said.” Peter took off his overcoat. “I’ll wait.”

“And you get to fuck your sexual-awakening crush. Bet you had pictures of my Iron Man icon on your wall along with the Death Star.”

“Nah, but I did have Tony Stark’s Rolling Stone cover,” Peter said, grinning.

“Shit. You always this direct?” Tony a.

Peter shrugged. “In business or fucking, it gets me what I want or gets me out quickly. You’d know. I took the play from your autobiography.”

“Kid, you’re killin’ me,” Tony said with another shake of his head. “Fuckin’ fanboy since you were ten. Why the hell should I put you in this bed?”

“I’d imagine you haven’t had any for awhile,” Peter said slyly.

“I’ve always liked them young and pretty and I’ve stayed in shape. This past year, not so much. Before? Plenty.”

That took Peter aback.

“Christ, Parker, I never raped anybody,” Tony said, seeing Peter’s reaction. “Stop watching bad movies.”

“Well?”

“I am not fucking you.”

“Okay.” Peter said down on the bed, next to Tony. “Can I take you to dinner?”

“You get nothing for it.”

“I’m okay with that.”

Tony looked at him skeptically.

“I’d just like to get to know you,” Peter said.

“Still a fanboy.”

“A little, maybe, but I’m a bit old to be just that. You’re hot and I’d like it if you fucked me. You’re brilliant and I’d like to get to know you.”

“Gonna take me on a date, kid?”

Peter smiled. “Maybe.”

“The clothes will still reek, but I’ll take a shower.” Tony smiled. “You figure out the best place that will let someone dressed like me into it. I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

“Unh unh. You’ll let me take you on a date.”

Tony laughed genuinely. “Okay Pete, I’ll let you take me on a date.”

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER SEVEN - RED AND BLUES

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 3,708

In hindsight, Roxana probably shouldn't have had three strongly poured bloody marys. She should have switched to something less filling after a big meal; like a vodka soda, if she felt like keeping to the same liquor, or a gin and tonic to stir things up. Unfortunately, all the tomato juice and grits and bread and sausage and eggs did not mix well with the sight of someone's throat being literally torn open.

It was nasty, but at least now she could jot down 'successfully grossed out a five-hundred-something-year-old vampire' in her list of lifetime achievements.

"Well, that was…unexpected." Dracula said after a moment, his hands hung in the air like they were held up by marionette strings, "Revolting, yes, but I have to admit, this is a first."

"I…um, I would apologize, but -"

"Yes, you should be sorry! This is an Ermenegildo Zegna." He growled lowly and the Italian name slid off his tongue in such a way that it sent shivers down her spine. Not entirely unpleasant ones, she'd be loath to admit.

"Who cares about a suit? You just ended that man's life!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a few steps back to distance herself from the vampire. "Besides, you clearly can afford another one."

Dracula rolled his eyes and sighed, his hands now working on their own accord as he began to carefully peel the ruined jacket away from his body. "It's not about the money, Roxana, it's about the craftsmanship and quality of the items; think of the countless hours spent meticulously sewing and sizing each individual article of clothing. All of that dedication and hard work tossed away just because you can't stomach a little bit of blood."

"Unbelievable." She began to pace in a small circle, dragging her nails quite viciously and repeatedly through her unruly locks. "You care more about some bits of fabric than a human being's life."

After shaking off the chunks from the coat, he placed it sloppily over the corpse and started working on his vest. There was that ferocity that he recognized in her, it reminded him of Agatha, and it was that Van Helsing fire that was not so easily snubbed. "You will come to learn, my dear, that death is part of the journey. It is the finished masterpiece. Think of it as your magnum opus! It is the very thing that defines the meaning of every life and is nothing that you should be afraid of."

"You're missing my point completely and, for the record, I'm not scared of death."

Dracula was relieved to find the button-up shirt underneath his vest to be unscathed, but also a little more than slightly intrigued by her statement. He would, how they say, put a pin in it and return back to that later. "Then why are you so upset? It's not like you knew him."

She groaned and threw up her hands in exasperation. Roxana was not about to try and teach an old vampire new moral tricks, that was well above her pay grade.

Rolling up his sleeves, the Count set out to retrieve his belongings from the pockets of his jacket and then fitted the dirtied clothes onto the dead body. For the final touch, he slid his Ray Bans over the man's glassy eyes. "Ah, good enough, I suppose."

Dracula took a step back to view his handiwork while absentmindedly wiped the remaining blood from his face. Roxana stopped her pacing to stare dumbly at the sight before her. The mugger was propped up against the wall with his head drooped down to the side, covering the neck wound so it looked like someone who had little too much fun and passed out on the sidewalk. Not an entirely uncommon sight in this city.

"Please tell me you're not just going to leave him here."

He looked at her with raised brows, "And what would you have me do?"

"Clean up after yourself!" Roxana cried out. The adrenaline rush she got from witnessing a murder had not completely dissipated so now she was left grasping a bout of minor hysteria. "I would think that would be obvious!"

Dracula laughed, "That's rich coming from someone who just upchucked her dinner all over one of my finest suits!"

"Because you decided to floss your teeth with some dude's carotid artery."

"Why are you surprised? You know what I am!"

"Well, excuse me if I was a little caught off guard because it's a hell of a lot different seeing a vampire up close and in action as opposed to a tiny, shitty computer screen!" She was nearly shouting, oblivious to the desperation in her own voice as he drew closer. Her neck craned upwards to try and boldly keep eye contact while his grin grew to make him look like the cat who caught the canary. "Stop smiling like that!"

"Make me." His tone was teasingly low, those eyes wicked and sharp. She noticed how lively Dracula looked after he fed. It was unsettling.

WHOOP! WHOOP!

They jumped apart as sirens suddenly yipped at them and a bright flashlight waved back and forth between their faces. The dark street was instantly flooded by the red and blues spinning on top of the police car.

"Oh, fuck me." She murmured with wide eyes. Her hands instinctively started to raise a little before she forced them back down, reminding herself to act casual.

Dracula leaned over slightly, "Is that an invitation?"

"Please shut up." She hissed back, shooting him a glare. "And no, it's not."

He made a facial shrug and then smirked, tossing her a casual little wink just to rile her up. The short, frustrated huff he got in return was satisfying enough.

"Everything all right here?" The cop rolled down his window and peered out at them. "And how about your friend over there? He's not looking so great."

The light shined over the dead guy leaning against the wall and the pair froze, glancing at one another.

This was her moment, she could tell the officer about the murder and maybe he could protect her against…the vampire. Oh, who was she kidding? Dracula would quicker snap her neck and drain the officer before risking the chance of exposure like that.

Meanwhile, her inner moral soldiers battled fiercely inside her brain over whether or not she should even say something about the murder. On the one hand, the count was a vicious blood-sucker who killed a man in a blink of the eye without any remorse, but on the other hand, it was technically self-defense…on her behalf anyway.

Logic eventually won when she realized that even if she did rat him out, it was highly unlikely the cop would even believe the truth. She would sound like a crazy person. The mental image of Dracula laughing and waving while she, hands uncomfortably cuffed behind her back, watched on with teary eyes as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance because the cruiser she was detained in drove off to the nearest prison…or an insane asylum. Whichever was closest.

Be killed or incarcerated? Neither were ideal. So Roxana went for door number three instead.

Dracula saw the look on her face. The look of a scared little rabbit getting ready to bolt. He had already tensed in preparation for her to make a sudden move but, to his surprise, that peculiar look vanished and Roxana smiled.

"All good here, officer! And yes, unfortunately this drunk pleb is with us. We were just about to get a ride back to the airbnb, sir." She shrugged her shoulders with a laugh. "It was his first time on Bourbon Street."

"Yes, I do believe he had one too many bloodys," Dracula was pleasantly surprised by her change in demeanor and happily played along. "Poor man vomited all over himself before we could find him a bin. Such a lightweight."

The officer squinted a little and they waited with bated breaths as he took a moment, which really felt like ages, to decide whether or not he believed their story.

"Alright then," He said at length and pointed to Dracula, "You make sure they get home safe now, ya hear?"

Roxana's eyebrows rose in disbelief while the Count grinned toothily, stepping over to her. She felt his hand slide up her spine and rest in a light grip around the back of her neck. "Of course, officer. I'll take care of them."

With a nod, the cop turned off his lights and drove back down the street, making a left at the next corner. Roxana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and dropped her shoulders.

That was a close call.

"My, my, your heart is racing, Roxana." Dracula murmured into the darkness that had enveloped them once more. His thumb brushed over her pulse point and he was thrilled when it spiked at the touch. She went to move away but halted her step when she felt his grip tighten, those claws threatening to make a cut. He turned her to face him and firmly, but gently tilted her head back to force her to meet his stare.

"That was your chance. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Please," She scoffed and jutted her chin out defiantly, "We both know it would've been pointless."

"Still," He spoke softly, his head angling back as he observed her, "You could have told the police officer the truth."

"And have you kill us both? I think not. Remember, the foundation showed me those videos and I know you're immune to bullets. So what good would that have done me?"

Dracula stared at her for a moment and then wetted his lips slowly before speaking, inching closer and closer towards her face. "For the last time, I'm not killing you yet because I wish to get to know you, but if you keep bringing it up, I might feel inclined to change that timeframe."

"Well are you going to be this intolerable all the time? Because if so, then just get on with it, I'm in no mood to play a long con here, big guy."

"No, I do believe the fun has just begun."

"Great. Just great." Roxana was truly done. She could still taste the bile on her tongue like acid, it made her feel disgusting, and she wanted nothing more than the day to end. "Now, if you'll let me go, I'm in desperate need of a shower, a toothbrush, and a bed. Maybe a nightcap too because the last twenty-four hours of my life have been absolutely fucked."

Acquiescing her request, Dracula released his grip and allowed her to distance herself from him once more. He watched as she dragged a hand down her face and heaved a sigh; her blue eyes almost shined in the darkness up at him as she gave him a tired half-assed glare. She then turned and started walking towards Canal Street.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." She called over her shoulder, her manners be damned. "Goodnight, Dracula."

The Count gawked when she didn't even give him a second glance and he did nothing but watch as she made her way to the end of the street and disappeared around the corner. He truly did not understand that woman. Perhaps it was ingrained in the Van Helsing blood to be habitually nonplussed by his vampiric prowess.

He pulled out his cell phone with a sigh as his thoughts drifted to the dead man wearing his now-ruined five-thousand-dollar suit and about a quart of said Van Helsing's DNA. Dracula needed to get rid of that evidence before it came back and bit him in the ass. No pun intended.

"Hello, my lord, how was your day today?" Renfield sounded chipper as ever.

"I need you to dispose of a body."

Dracula grinned from ear to ear as he listened delightfully to the unfiltered frustration in Frank Renfield's long-suffering sigh.

—

What a day, Roxana thought as she shuffled onto the streetcar and plopped down in one of the wooden seats. With a lurch, the machine squealed and rattled as it moved forward along the track. She winced; the benches on these particular modes of transportation were incredibly unforgiving on one's posterior.

Blankly, she stared into nothing, not paying attention as the buildings passed by. The events of the night played on repeat in her mind. A real vampire killed a real person right before her eyes. Was this really real life now? She was too exhausted to try and figure it out.

She felt like an outsider looking in on her body as it ran on autopilot. Her hand pulled the string to stop the car and somehow her feet managed to take her all the way to her front step without incident.

Fifolet meowed at her incessantly by the door but it sounded muted and far away as she unlocked it. Robotically, she made a beeline to the bathroom and shed her clothes along the way. Not even waiting for the water to warm up, Roxana stood unflinchingly under the cold spray and began to clean herself as the temperature increased to the cusp of scalding. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was red and raw. When she was finished, she pressed her forehead against the tiled wall and closed her eyes, simply listening to the water roar around her.

Without thinking, she lifted her hand up to gently wrap her fingers around her neck and couldn't stop her mind from wandering…from remembering the distinct sensation of another hand. His hand. She could almost still feel the vast expanse of his palm grasping her jugular and those impossibly long fingers curling nearly all the way around. Or how he leaned so close until he was just a breath away and anytime she would inhale, those fingers would tighten ever-so-slightly against her flesh.

Roxana's eyes shot open and she dropped her hand like it was on fire. Goosebumps lit up her arms and legs, despite the scorching water. Slamming the nozzle off, she threw back the curtains and began to dry off with furious gusto.

He was a vile creature. A feral beast. Not even human. The mere memory of his hands on her should be enough to appall her entirely. It must be delirium, she thought stubbornly, shaking the abhorrently traitorous images from her mind. She wrapped the towel around her head and strode towards the bedroom.

"I just need to go the fuck to sleep." Roxana muttered to herself and swiped the half-empty bottle of bourbon from the counter on her way. She collapsed onto the bed once she reached it, but sleep did not find her. Instead, she laid awake through the early hours of the morning, watching the ceiling fan spin on and on and on. She steadily knocked back the remainder of the liquor until the corners of her visions blurred and her eyelids became too heavy to keep open.

By the time the sun had risen in the sky, the bottle had rolled underneath her bed, long since emptied, and her light snores could be heard along with the chirping birdsongs. Fifolet patted over and curled up next to the woman, resting her paw gently on her outstretched arm and knowing that her human would be needing comfort now more than ever before.

—

The rest of the week flew by without any sort of batty drama and Roxana was grateful for it. She had a light workload with only two dinners scheduled and each went off without a hitch. All felt to be back to normal within her world. The weather wasn't comfortable yet, unfortunately, so she spent most of her free time relaxing at home. Not that she was using the cold as an excuse to stay inside and away from a certain someone. Nope, not a chance.

After that night, she had woken up with a righteous hangover and truly believed she had made up everything that had occurred in those twenty-four hours, but the textual evidence on her phone proved otherwise. Dracula had messaged her just once, to make sure she had made it home after their encounter, which she had to begrudgingly admit was rather sweet. Other than that, she was surprised to hear nothing more from the Count.

Roxana was cherishing the peace and quiet while she could. She knew that this whole interaction with Dracula was almost one-hundred-percent going to end up with her premature death. It wasn't hard to understand that hanging out with vampires and certain mortal peril basically went hand in hand. Not to mention the pesky fact about her being directly tied to a bloodline of women who had quite a lot to do with this ancient warlord and, spoiler alert, both of those women were killed...by him. So she intended to enjoy the calm before the storm.

Her phone went off next to her as she was boiling a pot of water for her own dinner and she saw an unknown number flash up at her.

"Hello?"

"Ah Miss von Hels, this is Keres Grimaldi. How I appreciate you taking the time as I am sure you must be terribly busy." The cold, feminine voice on the other line was not who Roxana had expected.

She blinked and then glanced around. The only plans she had this evening were drinking a bottle or two of wine, eating pasta, and watching some mind-numbing sitcoms. Yes, she was terribly busy. "Oh, no, not a problem at all. What can I do for you, Miss Grimaldi?"

"I would like to go over some of the details for this upcoming dinner." Keres' tone was icy and authoritative, leaving no room for nonsense or frivolous chatter. Roxana had a hard time imagining this woman throwing any sort of convivial party. "First, I believe you are aware of the delicate situation I am in, as head of the council, and the reason I chose your restaurant as the location once more is that I know that you will handle these delicacies with the same discretion you do with all of your soirees. Your clientele is famous and you appear to have the subtlety to maintain secrecy."

Roxana could not tell if this woman was being deliberately facetious or if she just always had the demeanor of a robotic bitch. Realizing very quickly that she wasn't about to get many words in, the chef put the phone on speaker and began to record the conversation so she could go back over it later to write the details down in her schedule. Work smarter, not harder. With a smile, she continued stirring the sauce as Keres plowed onward with her demands.

"The dinner will take place on the last Friday of the month, just two weeks before Mardi Gras. We shall be seating ten and you will provide meals for only five. It will be just you there and no other employees during the dinner, absolutely no exceptions."

"Okay, I'll have them leave before the clients arrive. You understand that includes my valet, right?"

"Yes, the transportation will be taken care of, therefore parking will not be an issue."

Strange, Roxana thought to herself while pouring the pasta into the strainer. "That works. Anything else? Dietary restrictions?"

As the words left her mouth, she winced and silence filled the room. It was a perfectly normal question under any other circumstance, but perhaps not this one.

"I noticed the other night that you seemed to be familiar with Mr. Balaur."

"I…um," She wasn't sure how she should answer the woman, "It was the first time I had met him, but I guess you could say we have mutual acquaintances."

"Miss von Hels, you are aware of his vampiric nature, are you not?" Well, Keres was certainly not tiptoeing around the subject.

"…Yes."

"Good, that's one less tedious explanation. I will provide the necessary dietary requirements, so you need not worry yourself over that. As for the mayor and his partners, you will want to contact them and decide on a menu that will suit their needs."

"Easy." She poured another glass of wine and took a long drink. "Anything else?"

The line was quiet for a moment and she had to check to make sure the call hadn't ended before Keres spoke up, "No, that will be all for now, Miss von Hels. Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for calling, Miss Grimaldi, I hope you have a great rest of your evening." Roxana really appreciated clients who were straight to the point, for it was often a headache to deal with indecisive people.

"One more thing," Keres' voice made her hand stop midway from pressing the end button, "Watch yourself around him. I've spent some time with Mr. Balaur in the last few years and I have never seen him look the way he did at you and this concerns me, not for your wellbeing of course, but for the future of our council. I will not have him go feral again, not under my watch, so if you know what is best for yourself, I would advise you to attempt to maintain a distance and use the utmost caution."

This caught Roxana off guard and her brows furrowed, "Then why are you having the dinner at Sanguine, if you are so concerned about this?"

Keres let out a laugh and it was anything but joyful. It lasted a beat too long for something that couldn't even be considered humorous and continued to send chills fluttering down Roxana's neck with a foreboding sense of danger.

"Oh, I know better by now than to try and take his toys away."

Taglist:

@festering-queen​ @vissidarte213​ @moony691​ @allis143​ @torntaltos​ @apocalypsenowish​

[buns-with-a-book]

Beginner's Luck

Teeechnically a Bayonetta/DMC crossover, only because it’s based on concept art from Bayonetta of Enzo and Dante gambling...and Dante losing because of his bad luck. And a little bit of his Diesel costume from DMC2 (which actually isn’t that bad?)

Fandoms: Bayonetta, DMC Characters: OC (DMC), Rodin (Bayonetta), Enzo (Bayonetta) Tags: @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz 

Summary: Cassandra takes up poker against an old friend of Dante’s to retake the hunter’s beloved guns: Ebony and Ivory. Of course, grabbing that signature red coat was a plus. 

Cassandra hummed as she walked down the grimy streets, bobbing her head to a song only in her head. Despite her chipper attitude, she had a place to be: a bar that Dante visited and came out with nothing. Literally, given his change of clothes from the iconic red to muted green. It didn’t look good, hence why she was walking down the street, finding the very bar he had been in the night before: The Gates of Hell.  

Cassandra really had only one concern: Did he have to head to the nastiest place in the city? The Dump was a perfectly appropriate name for this shithole corner of the city. Not even Morrison, as far as she knew, came to this stretch of the city.

But here she was, walking through the darkness like a lonely star in an abyss-black sky. She stood out of place, that she knew well enough, but ignored it to focus on where she was going. She could fend for herself, she wasn’t exactly unarmed despite all appearances.

She pulled out a flyer, a garish purple scrap of paper, and glanced at the building to her left. Just like it said, the Gates of Hell was here. She shoved the paper back into her bag, the bag being full of hard-earned cash to gamble with. If Dante had gambled away his prized guns, then she’d have to gamble it back (and have enough to pay for their tab, depending on how much of a drinker this mysterious man was).

Did it make her a target? Yes. Yes it did.

Was it worth it to make Dante happy? Yes. Yes it was.

With a soft sigh, she opened the door. Much to her surprise, it was empty. The only music in the bar was from the gramophone, the worn record playing a jazz piece that sounded like it'd come from a film noir. Her green eyes glanced around the empty establishment before she walked over to the bar, eyes focused on the black bartender.

“Hm.” The bartender hummed. She could feel his eyes focused on her, analyzing her every movement. It was almost supernatural...but she ignored that gut feeling for now. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here before, lightspark.” She squinted at the name, something that only Dante called her.

“I’m looking for a man. He was here last night gambling with my...employer, Dante.” She said. “Perhaps you know him?” The bartender was silent for a moment, mulling over her inquiry as he lazily cleaned a glass.

“What’s it to you?” He asked.

“...because that idiot gambled something precious to him and I’m here to gamble it back.”

“Sounds risky.” The bartender hummed. Cassandra shrugged.

“Perhaps. But I guess I’m feeling lucky tonight.” She said, tilting her head just a little. The bartender smirked.

“Better keep an eye on your back. Luck doesn’t like being pushed.” Cassandra glanced back behind her before back to the bartender.

“Duly noted-”

“Rodin!” The doors flung open, causing her to wince at the sound. “Fuck me sideways, I’m beat!” She glanced back, watching as a portly Italian waddle to the bar. “Hit me up with a martini!” She looked to the now-named bartender, who subtly nodded to her, before returning his gaze to the portly Italian.

“No can do Enzo. Not until you pay your tab.” Rodin said as he turned around. The Italian, now named Enzo, let out a whine.

“Aw come oooonn! You haven’t yelled at me for it before!” Cassandra slid a hand into her bag and pulled out a crisp $20 bill. Rodin paused as the bill hit the polished counter.

“You payin’ for him?”

“Yep.” Rodin shrugged before finishing the drink, setting it in front of Enzo. Enzo’s eyes widened.

“For me?”

“I mean, I just said I’d pay for you.” Cassandra said with a shrug as Rodin took the bill. “A second martini for me, please. Strawberry flavor.” Enzo laughed as he took a swing of the martini.

“Well, you have my attention. What cha want?”

“Well, you have something I want. Ebony and Ivory.” Enzo’s eyes went wide.

“Ooooh, you want those lovely ladies.” He laughed, walking to an empty table. Cassandra watched the martini rest on the counter before taking it. She took a sip, watching Enzo as Rodin counted out change. “Look, I ain’t gonna give those guns to anyone-”

“Not even back to Dante, where they belong?” She asked.

“You know Dante?” Enzo asked, flopping down in the chair. “How is he?”

“Miserable without his ladies.” She said, taking the change Rodin laid down. She quickly thanked him before walking over to Enzo. “But I get the feeling you won’t let them up without a fight. Or a good ole fashioned game of poker.” She sat down across from him, who had burst out laughing.

“Lemme guess, Dante taught ya! That man has HORRIBLE luck!” He howled. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“You don’t need luck to explain the rules.” Cassandra pointed out patiently. Enzo set his martini on the table and pulled out a deck of cards.

“Tell ya what, let’s play a quick game and if you win, I’ll give ya the coat.” Enzo set the cards down and took a sip of the martini. “I’ll even go easy on ya for the martini!” He threw out some cards, to which she took with a smirk.

‘You think I’m a push-over?’ She thought as the game began. ‘You’ll find that I’m no pushover.’

“So.” Enzo began. “How long have you known Dante?”

“Oh, about eleven years. He’s like a brother to me.” She replied, occasionally glancing up to him. She noticed she could see his cards in his sunglasses but kept her mouth shut. If he was helping her win, then she would take that as long as she could have that boon.

“Eleven years? Cute. So you ain’t doing this because you wanna fuck him, right?”

“Hardly. I like him but, as I’ve said, he’s a brother to me. And he’s been looking like shit without his coat and his ladies.” She said. “It’s a good thing he’s not going off to do some big job because if he went out without those things, I don’t think anyone would recognize him as Dante. That coat is his brand.”

“It’s also expensive to repair.” Enzo rolled his eyes. “But I’m not dealing with that anymore. That’s someone else’s job.”

“Mine, actually.”

“Ha! I don’t blame you for trying to get the coat back! Replacing that’s expensive!” Enzo said, throwing down his cards. “Alright, let’s see what you got!” Cassandra did the same, looking at his cards. Enzo quietly swore: she had gotten three of a kind. Enzo had gotten two pair. She had won.

“Huh. Guess I won this round.” She said as Enzo took back the cards.

“Ok, that was just a freebie because I wanted to see how good you were.” He clarified, retaking the cards. “I’m gonna be harder on you for the guns. And that means real money!” He opened up his coat and pulled out a wad of cash. “For Ivory, $250 dollars!”

“I can match that.” Cassandra said, mirroring his actions. Enzo grinned wide as he began to deal the cards.

“I like a gal who ain’t afraid to gamble.”

“These are Dante’s ladies, of course I’m gambling for them to come back home.” She pointed out, taking the cards dealt to her. Enzo took a sip of his martini.

“Ah, reminds me of my brats.” Cassandra raised an eyebrow and looked to his fingers, seeing a golden wedding ring on his finger.

“You’re a family man?”

“Yeah, two little monsters of my own. They���re cute as fuck though.” He chuckled fondly at the thought. Cassandra felt a twinge of sadness at that. Despite his profession, it still seemed as if he loved them dearly. It was something she wished her own father had done with her in her adult years.

“Cards?” Enzo’s inquisitive voice roused her from her thoughts. Cassandra laid down her cards, a Flush. Enzo swore under his breath as he laid down the Straight he had accrued. “Beginner’s luck…”

“Well, how about we raise the stakes a little? $500 for Ebony.”

“$700!” Enzo snapped. Cassandra let out a humorous huff.

“A bit of a sore loser, aren’t we?” She teased as she pulled out $1000 and set it on the table. “Let’s make it $1000.”  

“Do play nice with the lady.” Rodin rumbled from behind the bar. Enzo grinned and leaned forward, taking back the cards and reshuffling them.

“You got yourself a game...aw shit, I just realized I didn’t get your name. What kinda player am I?”

“It’s Cassandra.” She pulled back a strand of hair.

“Cassandra...ok, nice to get a name to a face. Dante was talking up a storm about you.” Enzo chuckled. Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

“Has he now?”

“Oh yeah!” Enzo nodded. “Went on and on about this chick that’s been rooming with him. It ain’t the bazooka gal so it’s gotta be you.”

“If he calls me lightspark, then I’m the one.” She hummed, playing a card. Enzo laughed.

“It’s nice to meet ya. I know Dante’s got a new broker now and that means getting you is off the table.” He shrugged. “Oh well. It’s nice to play cards with him-”

“Because you can win.” Cassandra interrupted dryly. Enzo snorted.

“Fuck yeah I can win.” He smirked at that before throwing down his cards. “Four of a kind, haha!” Enzo laughed. Cassandra glanced to the cards, to her hand, and then back to the cards before chuckling, laying them to rest.

“Straight flush. I believe I win.”

“WHAAAAAAAAAT!?” He howled, staring at the cards. “Oh come fucking oonnn!” He whined. Cassandra finished off her martini and set it on the table.

“I won fair and square, Enzo.” She gently pointed out. Enzo groaned before getting up with a grumble.

“Ok ok ok, I’ll go get them.” He waddled out of the bar. Cassandra took her rightfully won cash, frowning.

“I thought I’d gamble away more money.” She said quietly. Rodin merely laughed from behind the bar.

“I never heard someone wishing they were unlucky.”

“It’s not that.” She corrected him. “I didn’t think I’d actually win back the guns.”

“I believe it’s called beginner’s luck.” He said with a shrug as Enzo reentered the bar. In his hands were Dante’s red coat and the handguns of note: Ebony and Ivory. They looked pristine, not a scratch on them since she last saw them. Cassandra swung the red coat over her shoulders.

“Ah, I hate beginner’s luck…” Enzo grumbled as Cassandra made sure the two were empty before placing them in her bag.

“At the very least, I’ll pay for the tab tonight. And only tonight, before you get any ideas.” Cassandra said, walking to the bar. She pulled out five $20 bills and set them on the counter. “Au revoir.”

“Jeez, you better tell Dante he’s lucky to have someone as nice as you!” Enzo yelled as she stepped out of the bar, walking her way down the streets away from the bar and back to Devil May Cry.

One long walk later, Cassandra pushed open the door. While she was heading back home, she picked up a pizza along the way, just for Dante.

“Dante!” She called. “I’m home!”

“I’m awake.” He grumbled. “No need to yell-” He perked up at the box in her hands. “For me?”

“Yeah, you dummy. But don’t get your hands all greasy yet. I got more than pizza for you.” She lowered the pizza on the desk and opened up her bag, producing the handguns and setting them on the table. Dante stared at them, eyes wide before she whipped off his coat and threw it back at him.

“You got them back?”

“Fuck yeah I did. These two.” She pointed to Ebony and Ivory. “Are your ladies. And your ladies should stay in your hands, not in some alcoholic Italian in a grimy fucking bar in The Dump.”

“...thanks.” Dante took the handguns and put them away. “Did you lose anything?”

“Only a hundred and twenty dollars for drinks.” She shrugged. “Mostly to make sure said Italian’s tab was covered for the night.”

“You’re spoiling him.” Dante shrugged, opening the box and taking a slice. “He’ll want to be your broker next.”

“Pfft, nah. I’m taken by Morrison and he knows it.” She sat down on the edge of the desk, setting the bag on the ground. She reached over and took a slice. “You know, you should keep the scarf. It’s not that bad.” She said casually. Dante just shrugged.

“Thanks for...everything, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, Dante.”

[viva-la-sterek]

Happy new year, Sterek Fandom! Here is a list of some greatly enjoyable fics created in the fandom this past year! It’s amazing to see Sterek still going strong with events like @sterekweek-2018​, @sterek-smooch​, @sterekreversebang​, @stereksecretsanta​, and many more! Thank you so much to the many writers, fanartists, graphic makers and everyone that contributes to fandom! x3 

They Say It's Mighty Fine by @the-apocrypha​ (1/1 | 23,234 | Gen.) 

"Hello. This is Alpha Vernon Boyd, calling from Camp Remus about—"

"Derek?" Talia asks, confused. "You're calling about Derek? Is he okay? What happened?"

"Oh, boy." Melissa blows out a breath. "All right. Is he hurt?"

"He's been there for two hours, what could he possibly have—" John pauses. "Hang on, Camp Remus? Like the werewolf camp?"

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by @yodas-yo-yo​ (15/15 | 95,612 | Explicit) 

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

Sweet Buns by skoosiepants / @pantstomatch​ (1/1 | 17,936 | Teen) 

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

Or-

The a/b/o bakery au with feelings

Scrubbing Bubbles by MargaretKire (8/8 | 46,063 | Explicit) 

Stiles thought it would be easy doing janitorial work for an office. At first, it really was. The job only took a few hours in the evenings and it helped pay for rent and college. Sure, Hale Industries took up an entire floor in one of the downtown financial buildings, but the place was new and easy to care for. He didn’t even have to spend much time cleaning the huge corner office, because the trash was nearly always empty and the office itself was spotless, like no one used it.

It was basically the perfect college job. At least, until the boss started staying late.

Give you that thing you can't even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 (1/1 | 10,982 | Explicit) 

the one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

That Frothing Knob by Pride_of_Six (4/4 | 14,598 | Explicit) 

Stiles was wiping down the spout of a machine with a cloth, and Derek almost popped a stiffy right there in the café. It was completely embarrassing that after so many years of control over both his human and wolf side Derek would find himself so… enamoured by this random. Regardless, the wolf wants what the wolf wants, and Derek found himself trying his darnedest to get some sort of a rise out of Stiles, “You sure know how to handle that frothing knob.”

Needless to say, Derek got to see that beautiful blush colouring the barista’s face once again.

hey asshole by @everchanginginks​ (1/1 | 15,631 | Mature) 

The Hales moved in next door more than a year ago and while Cora and Stiles became fast friends, Stiles has yet to meet his best friend's big brother, Derek, who’s been attending college in New York. When Derek comes home for the summer he makes less than a stellar impression. And vice versa.

lube and determination by @bleep0bleep​ (2/2 | 4,873 | Explicit) 

It's a holiday classic: homesick boy wants to make a pumpkin pie while studying abroad, boy realizes the only place to find vegetable shortening is a sex shop, and boy makes fool of himself in front of other boy.

The Quickest Way to a Man’s Heart (is Through His Bottomless Pit) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt​ (1/1 | 54,167 | Explicit) 

Pulling open his apartment door, he let out an involuntary shout when something was quite literally thrust into his chest hard enough to have him almost tip backwards. He managed to right himself while keeping hold of what had been shoved at him and looked up in time to see his neighbour striding back towards his apartment.

“You’re going to fucking kill yourself.”

His door slammed.

Stiles blinked at the other man’s door, utterly confused, and looked down at what he was holding.

It was a plastic bag, full of what felt like tupperware, which made no sense to Stiles because when had his neighbour broken into his house to steal his tupperware?

Sharing Food by @aussiebee​ (2/2 | 9,564 | Explicit) 

Derek is pretty much absorbed into the Stilinski family, one meal at a time.

Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? by @sophisticatedyet​ (1/1 | 8776 | Explicit) 

Stiles gets a wrong number call from an old man who can't install his antivirus software. He feels like doing a good deed, so he decides to walk him through it.

Derek is not an old man, just a technologically incompetent twenty-six year old TA who has made enemies of the entire UCLA IT department. The helpful stranger he has just accidentally called is about to become Derek's go-to computer guy.

Bittersweet and Strange, Finding You Can Change (Learning You Were Wrong) by WithMyTeeth (8/8 | 49,983 | Explicit) 

When perpetual loner and failwolf extraordinaire Derek Hale finally loses patience with his meddling family, he grabs a confused Stiles Stilinski, unsuspecting diner patron and herbal medicine student, off the street to pose as his new boyfriend. Hijinks ensue.

Companionship by exclamation / @jessicameats​ (42/42 | 85,697 | Explicit) 

Companions are elite pleasure slaves, trained in music, dance, poetry, and, especially, sex. Stiles is the worst student in the history of the companion school, so his teachers decide to get rid of him by claiming he is interested in bondage and selling him to someone who'll keep him restrained and gagged.

Derek Hale is lonely and interested in BDSM. Buying a companion with an interest in submission seemed like a good idea at the time, but it turns out Stiles is not what was advertised. Not only does Stiles hate the thought of BDSM, he also has very strong opinions on what constitutes consent, or lack thereof. But keeping Stiles seems a better option than sending him back to the school, so somehow they will have to work this out between them.

Do Not Go Gentle by @mojoflower​ (51/51 | 195,878 | Explicit) 

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

too long to the weekend by @dizzy-redhead (1/1 | 5,261 | Explicit) 

When Derek agreed to show Stiles around Berkeley, he was thinking of Stiles at fifteen, his childhood friend, the son of his mother's best friend.

He was not prepared for Stiles, all grown up.

Married at First Glance by WonderWolf (14/14 | 63,558 | Explicit) 

Married at First Glance gives its participants seven weeks. Seven weeks, starting when they meet and marry their “perfect match”, to decide if they want to stay married or divorce.

For Stiles and Derek though, the challenge lies within trying to pretend that they don’t absolutely hate each other’s guts. When you’re married to a werewolf who dislikes humans, however, this can get a little tricky.

But the sweet, sweet cash reward at the end will be worth it. Right?

(A Married at First Sight AU)

Show Me Your Igloo and I'll Show You Mine by @thisdiscontentedwinter (1/1 | 4,943 | Explicit) 

Stiles is finally going to meet the online friend he's had for years.

Instead, the hottest guy in the world walks in.

Broken Car, Lemon Bar by inhystereks / @bibliophile246 (6/6 | 27,884 | Mature) 

Stiles got out of his car so whoever was coming wouldn't think he was just being an asshole and stopped in the middle of the road on purpose. He almost laughed when he caught sight of the approaching car. A black Camaro. Which meant Derek Hale was the one slowing down to pull up behind him. The town mechanic and also the scariest fucker around.

Oh, sweet irony.

He was exactly the person Stiles desperately needed and was also terrified of.

Perfect.

The Courting Dilemmas of a Spark and a Werewolf Prince by green-leaf (2/2 | 11,472 | Teen) 

Talia smiled calmly. “I am well aware that you are not a werewolf, my darling, but I thought this would be the best reading material for you to use as reference. After all, how would you know how to act during a courting ritual if you do not study it?”

“But I don’t... I’m not…” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you setting me up with someone?”

Talia rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be obtuse, my darling. Why would I set you up with someone –”

“Oh, well, that’s good, because–”

“–when I have a son who is already perfectly enamored with you?”

The Accused by @drgrlfriend (1/1 | 5,764 | Mature) 

“Remember when I thought I was in love with Kate, and she turned out to be a murderous hunter who killed most of my family and blinded me in the process?”

Erica’s voice was cautious. “Derek — what the fuck — of course I remember, how could you even ask? —”

“Well, my mate is worse,” Derek said flatly.

A Little Less Conversation by Lissadiane (1/1 | 5,626 | Gen.) 

Derek has learned to be a good Alpha in most of the ways that count. The problem is, now that he's well-adjusted, safe, and happy, it's time to turn his attention to the one thing he's always sucked at: finding a nice, sweet Omega mate.

Lucky for him, Erica and Stiles have ideas on how to make that as painless as possible.

In which Derek Hale is a failwolf and somehow, ends up going speed dating.

Cheers to more Sterek in 2019!! 

[justlikeeddie]

black sails fic recs

I have got and continue to get so much enjoyment out of Black Sails and its fandom! It's so nice that this anniversary week of posts has made me realise it is two years since my dash was abruptly filled with people having full breakdowns over the S4 finale, and I was like, “man, I don’t know why this field of corn or whatever is so important, but I guess I should watch this show and find out”. And I did. AND IT WAS.

I don’t know how to make gifsets bcos I am an idiot, but luckily for this fan content Friday thing I CAN post a non-exhaustive list of fics in this fandom that I am absolutely obsessed with. You’re welcome!!!

Unaccommodated Man, The Peaceable Kingdom, and Congress by kvikindi / @septembriseur

James/Thomas, post-series

James looks at him, searching, and Thomas fears he will recognise that Thomas is not really Thomas, not quite Thomas, not the Thomas he had been, and so he says, “I have gone a little mad in this world without you, but now that you are here—” And James makes a sound, a sobbing, laughing sound, and crushes Thomas to him once more.

Like...obvs. This is one of the best series of stories I have read in any fandom, or, actually, that I have read in any context. Both on a macro level - with unbelievable fluency, this series encompasses trauma, recovery, intimacy, forgiveness, literature, the conception of madness, agriculture, 18th-century Native American tribal language, etc, etc - and a micro level, in which not a single word is wasted, and not a single sentence is unworthy of being read three or four times. Anyway. I have re-read all of these stories multiple times and Congress more times than I would admit to if I actually knew.

consider them both, the sea and the land by youremyqueen / @deathnoting

Flint/Silver, post-S3

Flint frowns, stiff and unbending, and leans down just a tad so that he is looking John directly in his eyes. If he’s uncomfortable with their proximity, he doesn’t let it show.

“Remember when you told me,” he grits slowly, each word weighted with emphasis, “that you had discovered the pleasure of being both loved and feared? Is that what you would like from me? It is not enough that you have earned my respect, my friendship. You would now like for me to be frightened of you as well?” His nostrils flare, his rage is quiet. “I am not one of your men.”

John can feel the words on his face and he bears them without flinching, says only, “And I am not one of yours.”

Flint’s brow twitches, and he moves a hair closer, disgustingly close, warm and sour with the smell of whiskey, a solid and immovable blockade between John and what he wants. And he says to him, of all the unbearable things, “Isn’t that exactly what you are?”

THIS IS LITERALLY THE FIC THAT CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT FLINT/SILVER. For like three whole series I just didn’t Get It. And then I read this and was like.....oh.....I Get It. It’s a weapon. Their attraction to each other is a weapon. And sometimes they like using it and sometimes they don’t. And I have never, my friends, looked back

and into what it will be changed by @sea-changed

James/Thomas/Miranda, pre-series

"The Hartfords left for the country last week," Miranda says; "they've merely invited us to view the painting. They cannot resist showing off, even in absentia." She and Thomas share a look, smirking at each other as if sharing an old joke. Then she looks back at James, and her mouth quirks up at him. "So you needn't worry about their judgement."

James considers protesting that that wasn't, exactly, what he was worried about, though upon second thought he wonders if it truly wasn't. "That's very kind," he says, hesitating.

"Is it?" Miranda asks, almost absently. "We do not invite you along as a kindness, Lieutenant; I believe I speak for both Thomas and I when I say we rather enjoy your company."

James feels his face heat, not unpleasantly, and he looks down at the carpet. Miranda is usually soft and kind, but occasionally she does this, speaks plain and pointed. She and Thomas both do this, push and keep pushing: Thomas seems to do so with curiosity, prodding until he finds something interesting, but Miranda does it as if she had already found the spot she wishes to target, and goes after it relentlessly. James thinks suddenly, and unexpectedly, that she would not make a bad Naval commander.

THIS IS LITERALLY THE FIC THAT CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT JAMES/THOMAS/MIRANDA. I used to be weirdly militant in the belief that James’s affairs with the Hamiltons only made sense if they were two separate affairs that didn’t even really overlap. And then I read this and was like....right okay....if they DID have a threesome it would have been like this

There’s Plenty of Men to Die by @autoeuphoric

Flint/Silver, post-S3

The five of them share a glance, passing it around the table, man to man. Flint’s mouth twitches and Madi laughs shortly. “I would wager every man here fancies themselves in charge. This is a meeting of chieftains. I say let it remain so.”

“Although…” Silver says slowly, pulling the others’ attention on to him. Flint’s eyes flick his way, and to his horror he realizes he has nothing else to say. No point, no segue, no plan for a redirection of the conversation. He had simply wanted Flint to look at him. A fierce longing for the days when it was just the two of them fills him, laying their plans together, even though the threat of sudden and nonnegotiable execution was much higher. But he knew where he stood. Here, there are complications. Confusions.

This is just a tiny little snatch of a scene but every beat of it is perfect! Silver navigating his obsession with Flint, in the midst of everybody navigating their new relationships with each other in the new fragile and tentative anti-colonial alliance.

a question of needs (and not rosary beads) by @seventymilestobabylon

James/Thomas, pre-series

Still: James wants to talk. If Thomas means this to be—what it is, what it clearly is, then he should have the fucking decency to say something about it. He also, and intensely, wants the whole business to be transacted without any conversation, but he knows better than to hope for that. Thomas is not capable of it, that implicit understanding. Even when he kissed James—

Thomas’s thumb very light at the hinge of his jaw. He felt a thrill like fear, when it happened.

Even then, Thomas said, “All right?” when it was over, and would have said more, except that James nodded mutely, minutely, and stammered something incoherent that required his presence elsewhere. Thomas and Miranda both looked hideously understanding about it, and James considered—as he walked home through ill-lit streets and inhaled familiar smells of smoke and fish and tar and shit—simply climbing aboard one of the ships in harbor and never returning to London.

This is one of the few pre-series fics I’ve read that really digs into James and Thomas’s incompatibilities and differences and misunderstandings - and sets them against how badly they want each other, and want to understand each other, nonetheless. Don’t get me wrong, obviously 1705 is The Only Time James McGraw Was Ever Allowed To Be Happy (tm), and I’m extremely into reading about him and Thomas making each other happy! But also - it’s so interesting to explore James being so frightened of how he feels about Thomas that he can be unkind to him, and Thomas being so immersed in how he feels about James that he can be complacent and sometimes a little thoughtless about it. And this pulls all of those things apart so well.

you and i survived by youremyqueen / @deathnoting

Anne/Jack, Vane/Jack, pre-series

“She’s not mine. That isn’t—we aren’t—I mean to say, do you actually understand what love is, Captain?”

“Love is possession,” Vane tells him, with his usual unselfconscious melodrama. “Not only of women by men, but of men by women. The point of owning a woman is to see to it that she doesn’t own you.” He speaks as if he’s explaining some very basic and widely known conceit.

Jack winces. “What a viciously horrible perception.”

Vane rolls his eyes. “Christ’s sake. Don’t you ever get tired of acting like a fucking woman?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of acting like a fucking man?”

And couldn’t they unpack that remark for days?

The extremely funny author’s note “if someone had told me two months ago that i would write a fic that featured charles ‘only straight person in nassau’ vane as a main character, i would not have believed them” is also a summary of how I feel about this fic. WHO KNEW that on top of every other fucking thing I have to care about in this fandom, I also care a LOT about Jack and Anne and Charles fuckin Vane! A principled, terrifying, Aslan-transfigured-into-a-human nightmare of a man! This fic is so excellent and does such justice to all of them. Their triumvirate gets kind of supplanted by the Max-Anne-Jack situation from S2 onwards, and I always forget how nuanced and odd and interesting this three-way dynamic is when we first meet them. This story does such a good job at trying to explain what the fuck that dynamic is.

Katabasis by unheroics

James/Thomas, pre-series, canon-divergent AU

There were Flint’s men, one leaving the cabin, another ransacking a chest for treasures, another still turning to speak to Randall; the words exchanged escaped Flint, as all else did, once his gaze fell to the Englishman.

He knelt barefoot on the deck, and wore the undyed, colourless linen of prison or asylum garments. For a precarious second Flint could only think that his hands had had nary a mark upon them, five years ago, and now were as scarred as those of a gamekeeper or veneur. He looked nothing like the man whose presence haunted Flint’s dreams, always at the corner of the vision, always cold to the touch and bleeding from the eyes and mouth.

In all his careful planning, and all his mirthless revenge, Flint had never thought to anticipate a variable in place of a set value. The presence of other men about was like an anchor at his feet, dragging him underwater, but it was Alfred Hamilton’s blood on his hands that kept him immobile.

“Will you kill me?” said Thomas Hamilton, in a voice harsh from paregoric. His tone had a note of morbid, queer hope. “I could pay.”

To spare you, or kill you? It was excruciating to wonder.

One of the very first James/Thomas fics I read! And certainly one of the first fics I read that started to probe and pull apart the McGraw-Flint dichotomy, by literally dropping Thomas right in the middle of it. And while the actual end of S4 is, obviously, the greatest and most narratively and emotionally satisfying thing that has ever happened on television, and you can quote me on that - one thing we do never get in canon is Thomas in Nassau, and I love getting to read that here.