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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years ago

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Father Like Son, Mother Like Daughter, Parent Like Child - Part 2 of 4

This thing has me so pumped you have no idea lol it’s just the Brady Bunch but people who could murder you (if just eventually) and I love it

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Bell-mère and Cora adjust to their new situation, while their collective brood makes the best of things. [8506 words; AU where Cora-san and Bell-mère live with their six kids in the East Blue and everyone is better-adjusted]

It was the dead of night as Bell-mère lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom with Cora curled around her. Well, she guessed it was their bedroom now, as she was very decidedly not upset by the events the week before that led to her taking her old flame and coaxing it back into an inferno. Moving her head slightly, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, her nose taking in the smell of sweat, mikans, and musk that was him. He stopped his soft snores long enough to hum happily in his sleep—who knew that the man could do cute?

After a while of laying there, Bell-mère heard quick footsteps rush out of one of the other bedrooms, down the stairs, and out the door. She got out of bed, careful to not wake Cora, and pulled on a nightgown and robe, padding down the stairs so that she could look out the window.

It was Law… and he was huddled in the mikan grove.

Sighing heavily, she went outside and found the lad shivering underneath one of the trees. He gasped when he noticed her, having been too enveloped in his own thoughts to be aware of his surroundings. There was sick down his front and in the grass—something was wrong.

“Are we going to talk about it?” she asked. The boy simply stared at her with those eyes that were so, so sad and so, so tired. “Let’s at least get that shirt off of you—come on.”

The teen didn’t make a fuss as she pulled his soiled shirt off him and let it plop down on the grass. She pulled him up and draped her robe over him before leading him along to a different part of the grove, away from the smell of bile.

“I’ve never seen you this spooked before,” she said quietly, running her fingers through his hair. “What has you like this?”

“I…” He went quiet, not sure of what to say or how to phrase it. “You know I get nightmares, right?”

“Everyone does, but no one like you, I bet.” It grew quiet, only the crickets and frogs making the noise between them. “What happened?”

“Nami was there.”

She considered that carefully. “What do you mean?”

“Nami was there, instead of… my first sister.” Bell-mère raised an eyebrow at that, giving the boy room to explain. “Before I met Cora-san, I had a mom, a dad, and a little sister. They’re dead now. Nami and Lami… they should be about the same age. It makes sense, when you think of it that way.”

Bell-mère nodded slowly at that—she knew a lot of the boy’s origins from what Cora had told her, but she clearly didn’t know it all… only Law did. “Does she know this?”

“Gingersnap? No. I…” Law pulled the robe tighter, feeling the chill in the night air. “I can��t do that to her. Not now. It’s not fair to her.”

“…but she’ll know eventually, right?” The teen nodded. “Hey… did Rosi ever tell you about why I quit the Marines?”

“You didn’t want to raise Nami and Nojiko on a base, right?”

“That’s a big part of it, but it’s not everything.” She began to pull the lad back to the house, making sure to avoid the sick-covered shirt. “I want to say the first… what… three months I had the girls I was trying to figure out who they really were, what happened to their actual family, what the Marines were even doing in Oykot Kingdom…”

“Oykot…?” Law furrowed his brow as he was led into the kitchen and made to sit down. “Where’s that?”

“No longer exists,” Bell-mère shuddered. “When I was briefed, we were supposed to be aiding the local law enforcement in the round-up and capture of a large number of pirate-led dissidents so that they could stand trial and make their grievances known in court. That wasn’t what happened.”

Law watched Bell-mère put together tea in silence, unsure how to continue. It wasn’t until he had a steaming mug passed his way did he finally find his voice again.

“What did happen?”

“It was more than just a massive protest we were flung into, but a full-on war. I was one of the officers with a false briefing—the ones given the real orders laid waste to the kingdom, killing everyone not in a Marine uniform. Some of us questioned them, only to get shot ourselves. It was only supposed to be a peacekeeping mission, and yet…”

“That’s… a lot like Flevance,” the lad realized. “Let me guess: when you took it to Headquarters, there was nothing that could have been done?”

“They flat-out lied to my fucking face, kid,” she growled. “They said that rebels, pirates, whomever wasn’t us, killed the citizens, that it was beyond Marine control until the end, and that any casualties were an unfortunate side-effect. There’s nothing simply unfortunate about me laying in the dirt, barely clinging to life and ready to die, as a toddler carrying an infant just finds me because neither of them have anywhere else to go. Those three months, I learned a lot.”

“…about what…?”

“I learned that the entire oath I swore to protect the citizens was a lie, that the force I had pledged myself to was a shell of its image, and that there was nothing I could do to change it, even if I gathered all the other good Marines in the organization and went public. I learned that the girls were just that in the eyes of the government—just a pair of orphaned children—and that it didn’t care as much as I hoped it would.”

“…and their actual family…?”

“Right here, in this house,” Bell-mère replied gently. She placed her hand on the kid’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “You know what it was like to lose Lami, and… something tells me that you’re all the more prepared to take care of the siblings you have now because of that, which is a force more powerful than any of us are able to admit.” Tears welled up in Law’s eyes once more and she tutted. “Don’t give me that shit—you’re a bleeding heart, just like Rosi.”

“Did… did he know…?”

“Know what?”

“The lies.”

She both nodded and shrugged at that. “It’s been his goal for a long time to take his brother out of commission. He accepted long ago that sometimes you have to ignore some really evil shit in order to take down an even bigger, more evil, shit, because in the end… you can’t truly clean up unless you start from the top, or else as soon as you get something clean further down, a new load lands thanks to the ones on top.” She took a sip of her own tea and exhaled heavily. “Makes you wonder sometimes if the pirates know a bit more than we do about shit.”

“I think… I might become one again…” the teen confessed quietly. He watched Bell-mère raise her eyebrow inquisitively. “There’s a lot I want to do… to learn… and a pirate doesn’t have to worry about protocol or chain of command or anything like that.”

“As someone who is currently supporting your ass while on a Marine pension, I’d say to go for it,” she smirked. “I’d almost go as far to say to maybe get your older brothers in the hierarchy as moles, but they’re not built for the bullshit that’d be involved.”

“That’s an understatement,” Law grumbled into his tea. Bell-mère let out a barking laugh at that, confusing the boy with her amusement.

“You really are like Rosi: bleeding heart, perceptive, and you hold a spark that can’t be faked. Can’t say anything about a man I’ll never meet, but you’re sure the spit of the dad you got now… if only in how much you torture my poor blood pressure.”

“It’s all those years of smoking,” the lad said innocently. He suppressed a smirk as Bell-mère glared at him. “What? Offer still stands to scrape all the tar out of your lungs.”

“I don’t care how good of a doctor you are; I better be dying if you pull me apart like that,” she glowered. She smiled inwardly as Law let out a soft giggle—at least he was back to where he should be in that regard. “Hey… you good now…?”

He nodded. “Yeah. For now.”

“Go the fuck to sleep, kid. We’ll take care of your shirt in the morning.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Rolling her eyes, Bell-mère allowed Cora to pepper her throat and clavicle with kisses, keeping her busy as his hands roamed elsewhere. It was monsoon season and business was slow, leading them to their bedroom in the middle of the day to weather away the wet and wind that was outside. She was close to flipping him onto his back and really getting things started when four knocks rapped upon the door.

“Bell-mère…? Cora-san…?”

“Go away, Bepo,” Bell-mère groaned. “Not now.”

“Sorry …but Nami says we should take shelter in the cellar. She says the storm is gonna get really bad soon.”

“Then go make sure the orchard’s alright.” She waited until she heard the Mink’s heavy footsteps walk away from the door before she let out a grunt. “Fuck… that just killed the mood.”

“Nami just wants to make sure everything’s alright,” Cora murmured against her pulse point. “Kid’s way too good at predicting kinds of weather to just ignore it, but she’s not good at figuring out the other bits yet.” He snapped his fingers and Bell-mère could feel him smile. “Now we’re safe.”

“We better be.” She hummed in satisfaction as Cora’s hands went down to the buttons of her shirt; it was about damn time.

At least when the younger three kids broke down the door five minutes later after hearing no response, Bell-mère still had her bra on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What are you guys doing…?” Nojiko asked, wrinkling her nose. Penguin and Shachi had frozen in place, while Law tried to look as dignified as possible as they all sat huddled on the floor of his bedroom, papers littering the space around them.

“Language lessons,” he said, voice cracking. The girl stared flatly at him in an effort to seem not impressed. “It’s… uh… a Northern thing.”

“Is that why Bepo’s not learning?”

“Bepo wants to learn, but I don’t want to distract him right now from studying with Nami,” Law claimed. “Besides, this will be useful when we get older and sail out to sea, like our own code.”

“Yeah, until you run into someone else who knows it.”

“I… doubt that.” Nojiko saw something flicker across the teen’s face and knew something was unsaid that probably should be out in the open. She picked up a paper and looked at it critically.

“What’s it called?”

The boys all looked at one another before swallowing hard, with Law answering, “Flevench. It’s the language where I’m from.”

“Does Cora-san know it?”

They shook their heads.

“Then we really should get Bepo and Nami in on this. You do realize that this is not only a code for you goons, but it can be a code for all us siblings?”

“You… want to learn Flevench…?”

“How are all three of you older than me but still so stupid?” Nojiko huffed. She sat on the bedroom floor with them and summoned the serenest expression she could gather. “Now, what are we learning?”

Law looked away for a moment, trying not to cry, before he began to reexplain the lesson.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

There was a part of Cora that wasn’t entirely certain that leaving either the Marines or the Donquixote Family was amongst the smartest moves he’d made in his life. Both organizations had order, in their own way, as well as long-standing protocol that he could fall back on when things got dicey. Even if it involved people who he couldn’t stand, there was still a sense of security involved in both, if only because people were still generally bound by a certain set of rules and decorum.

Raising kids, though? He wished it were as simple as that.

“Which one of you little terrors took my clothes?!” Shachi seethed as he stormed into the house. He was sopping wet, with only his hat to awkwardly cover his modesty and his sunglasses to shield everyone else from his murderous glare. The four kids at the table jumped, dropping pencils and losing pages.

“Be decent; your sisters are here,” Cora teased from over by the counter as he made sandwiches. He watched as Shachi grabbed an apron from the peg and wrapped it around his lower half.

“Yeah,” Nami added. “We don’t want a repeat of going to the bath in town.”

“I can still prove that was you, you little shit,” Shachi threatened. “I’m still getting turned down for dates!”

“No,” Law stated, “you get turned down for dates because of your uncomfortable codependency with Penguin causing speculation that generally prohibits courtship rituals.”

“Devil Fruit or not I will beat you up in your sleep…”

“Kids, I might not have brought you into this world, but I will take you out of it if necessary,” Cora mentioned. He then noted how there was only one of the elder pair standing there, which sent off alarm bells in his brain. “Shachi…?”

“What?!”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Little Penguin does not go in the hat since his is tougher to wash, so I’m the one figuring out which sibling to murder.”

“You are murdering no one, young man.”

“I am going to murder some thieves and I don’t think anyone can blame me!”

At that, Bepo broke out into hysterical tears, completely giving away the ruse of innocence. Nami and Nojiko tried to calm him while readying to block Shachi, while Law picked up the drawing compass and flicked up a Room.

“Kids!” Cora yelled. It didn’t matter; Shachi was down body parts and still charging, while the girls were protecting their fuzziest brother. Cora—without thinking, mind—grabbed a wooden spoon from the rack and, dusting off his spy training, threw it at Shachi’s head with pin-point precision.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“Don’t kill your siblings!”

“They stole our clothes!”

“You were the idiot who left them unsupervised!”

“…but Daaaddd!”

The entire room froze, Shachi bringing a hand to cover his mouth while everyone else stared at him. Cora’s jaw dropped as he stared at the teen, who was now dark with blush.

“What did you just say…?” he asked the sixteen-year-old. Shachi shuddered before lowering his hand.

“I… um… I came in and you were making everyone lunch… it’s kind of what you are…”

“Really…?”

“Well, duh,” Nami added. “Why wouldn’t you be our dad?”

That was when the tears started flowing in earnest.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bell-mère came in for lunch that day to find that not only was it not made, but that the man she woke up next to every morning (boyfriend? Manfriend? Fuck-buddy? Co-parent with benefits? Fuck if she knew what label to use) was sitting on the floor of the dining area, sobbing incoherently as five of their children tried to make sure that he was alright. One wasn’t even wearing clothes, for some odd reason.

This was what she deserved, she guessed, for not kicking them out sooner.

“Mom…?” Nojiko asked. “Can you watch Dad while we bring Peng-nii his clothes? We pulled a prank and… well…”

...ah. No wonder. Only her bleeding heart.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Arlong the Saw.

Captain of the newly-formed Arlong Pirates, the Fish-man decided to take some practical measures when it came to building his fledgling empire. Placing himself out of his former captain Jinbe’s reach, he decided to set himself up in a wee, sleepy town in the middle of the weakest Blue. There, he knew, he could take over a Human town with ease, extort it and the surrounding area, and in the end have the bribe that he would pass to the local Marines be not even a dent in his work. His aim was to subjugate the puny and upstart Humans, making them pay for everything that was ever done to Fishfolk and Merkind, all while raking in the treasures hidden within the peaceful stereotype of the East. With the local Marines pre-bribed and the town’s sheriff literally choking in his grip, it seemed as though everything was going off without a hitch.

He did not, however, take into account the local youth.

“Oi! Fish-face! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Arlong turned and saw six children standing just beyond the crowd—five Humans and, shit, a Mink—all looking like they were ready to fight. Even the littlest one—a ginger girl with a staff taller than her—seemed to think they could take him on. Shit, the oldest was still a teenager…

This was going to be good.

“Why, I’m collecting tribute,” Arlong shrugged. “I can explain how it works, if you’d like.”

“We know how tribute works,” stated one of the boys. He was wiry and serious, no older than sixteen at the Fish-man’s reckoning. “These people owe no such thing to anyone.”

“See, now that’s where you’re wrong,” Arlong said. “If I don’t collect this money, then I am going to kill people. That’s tribute.”

“You don’t need to mansplain it,” the girl with blue hair snapped. “We get enough of that from my idiot eldest brothers.”

“I’m hurt, Nojicakes, that you would seriously think that of us,” one of the other lads gasped in fake-insult. “It is our job as your brothers to make sure you grow up knowing how the world works, and…”

“Give it up, Sach,” a third lad sighed. “She has us nailed with our metaphorical dicks out.”

“Kids! Get out of here!” the sheriff shouted. “Leave while you can! Get off the island!”

“That still doesn’t solve the issue at-hand, which is the fact that these assholes are trying to terrorize our home,” the first lad stated. “How about if we give these invaders until the count of three to surrender?”

“To you…?” Arlong scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“What do you say, Gingersnap? How about if you do the honors,” the third lad asked. The smallest girl grinned confidently.

“One!”

“Kids, leave!”

“No way, Uncle Genzo; this is our home too.”

“Two!”

“Shahahahahaha… this is going to be satisfying. Maybe I’ll start with eating your pet first.”

“That’s not our pet,” the second lad scoffed. “That’s our cute baby brother.”

“Three! Looks like they asked for it!”

“Baby brother…? Oh, this will be fun.” Arlong snapped his fingers. “Kuroobi, Chuu, start with the Mink.”

“Gladly,” Kuroobi chuckled. He cracked his knuckles as he and Chuu stepped forward, trying to look as menacing as possible to the young Mink. “What are you doing so far away from home, little one? You want to die that quickly?”

“I am home, with my brothers and sisters and parents,” the Mink said proudly. He charged at the Fish-men and jumped up, letting off a burst of Electro that fried them into shock. Arlong grimaced as he watched the scene—shit, the kid was at least something.

“Over here,” said a voice, and suddenly the rest of the kids seemed to be attacking. Two of the lads tried attacking him with a bat and a spear, while the girls used the distraction to run past him, waving their staffs with purpose. The first Human boy simply stood there, a smirk on his face and his hand outstretched.

“Room… shambles.”

In an instant, everything seemed to go haywire. Arlong’s crew simply fell apart, literally, into bits and pieces and limbs that the girls were easily able to step on and beat with their staffs. Kuroobi and Chuu’s innards had enough and both his lieutenants fainted. The lads that were beating on him got in some decent hits and were able to knock the backs of his knees, sending him to the ground.

…they were just a bunch of children… mostly Human children at that.

“What the hell is going on here?” a voice asked. Arlong looked up and saw a Human couple standing in the street, looking at the scene with… bemusement…?! Did they seriously think this was funny?! He grabbed the lads by their throats and sneered, pinning them in the dust.

“Are these your brats?” he snarled.

“They might be,” the woman said. Ah, it had been her before. “Now what are my wonderful children doing to you Fish-men? You are just passing through, aren’t you?”

“I’m taking over this measly, podunk little town,” Arlong stated. “You Humans need to be put in your place.”

“I can see you are putting us in our place all right,” the man nodded sarcastically. He then glanced past Arlong and huffed in annoyance. “Nami? Sweetie? Swing with your waist and hips, like I showed you.”

“Dad! Not now!”

“Uh… a little help…?” one of the captured lads choked out. The man stepped forward to attack, yet stumbled and tripped over his own feet, landing face-down in the dirt.

“I always have to do everything, don’t I?” the woman smirked. Less than half a second and her knee was connecting with Arlong’s face, subsequently releasing his grip on the teens as he fell on his back. “You two okay?”

“Now we are,” Shachi coughed. “Took you long enough.”

“We were out for a walk, and what the fuck was I supposed to do? Leave your dad to disrupt a bees’ nest and get covered in brambles? At least that shitty Tekkai of yours kicked in, or you’d be dead already.” The woman placed her foot on Arlong’s throat, gently pressing the soft flesh against the ground. “Cocoyasi is not yours, Fish-man.”

“Fuck you,” he spat. “The world was not meant to be ruled by Humans. You should know your place.”

“…and you should know yours.” He reached for his gun, only to find it was not there, somehow replaced by a crooked stick. “I have no problems with Fish-men as a whole, but I have many problems with you. Leave now, or the two of us shall finish what our children started.”

“…and why the fuck should that scare me?”

“…because it’s either leave or have to deal with both the Renegade Marine Captain and the former right-hand of none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, who I’m sure is part of the reason why you didn’t attempt to set up shop in the North.”

Nose broken and pride shattered, Arlong the Saw gathered his crew and sailed away from Cocoyasi, cowed more than he was ever going to admit. That night, a News Coo was summoned, sending a message directly to Marineford, marked of urgent importance.

Investigate potential bribery within the East, it read. A shark paid a mouse, and it would be wise to sniff him out.

Sengoku the Buddha looked at the signature and knew the veracity of the claim without question—he was going to need an inquiry to prove it though, which he was more than happy to commission.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, thirteen; that’s how old Law, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo were when they decided they were going to leave Cocoyasi. The four brothers packed up their stuff and prepped a boat that they were going to take to the Red Line—then the adventure would truly begin.

“It’s not fair!” Nami sobbed. She was being cradled gently by Cora, as the entire family was at the docks to wish the boys off. “I’m good at fighting and at navigation! Why can’t I come?!”

“We don’t need two navigators—that’s just dumb,” Shachi reasoned. It still wasn’t enough for his baby sister, who kept crying into Cora’s shoulder. “We can’t have any crybabies onboard! It’ll cramp our style!”

“…but you’re bringing Bepo-nii!”

“Sorry…”

“Listen, Nami, we’re going back to the Blue where we were born,” Law explained. Cora put the girl down and the teen let her hug him tightly around the middle. “I don’t think you really want to go there—it’s not a place where you can wear shorts all the time.”

“I still want to go…!”

“Listen: your time will come soon enough. Until then,” he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I need you to help Mom and Nojiko watch after Dad, okay? It’s a full-time job watching over his clumsy ass.”

She giggled—it was a start.

“We’re both going to learn lots of different things!” Bepo said excitedly. “We’ll meet up again out in the Grand Line, and we’re going to have to compare notes!”

“We will…?”

“The two best navigators in the world can only rely on each other, after all!”

“Just keep a lookout for us in the papers, okay?” Penguin said.

“What are you going to be called?” Nojiko asked.

“The Heart Pirates,” Law said frankly. “I’m a doctor, and we’re Dad’s kids. He used to be referred to as ‘the Heart’ when he was undercover.”

“Not to mention love,” Cora said. He tried to keep his composure, but tears still began to stream down his face. “You can’t forget to love.”

“Great,” Bell-mère laughed. “Now he’s going to be all weepy the rest of the week. Thanks a lot, assholes.”

“You know it’s about you too,” Cora said. “The love we gave them made a difference in their lives, and there’s nothing any of us can do to change that.”

“Maybe you should listen to her and just let us go,” Shachi said. “Don’t worry, Dad. You still got Mom, Nojiko, and Nami, right?”

Cora suddenly became very much so unable to talk, as tears became outright sobbing. Bell-mère punched Shachi’s shoulder before bringing the lad in for a hug. Slowly, they all joined in until the entire family of eight was wrapped in one another.

“No matter where you are, write to us!” Nojiko demanded. “We want to know what’s out there too!”

“Don’t worry, Nojicakes; we’ll let you know we’re still alive every now and then.” Penguin ruffled her hair and she pouted—how dare he use that name at a time like this.

After more crying and belated goodbyes, the newly-formed Heart Pirates disappeared into the horizon, their sisters watching as their boat grew smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left. The sun set and the two girls trudged back from the pier, into the open arms of their parents, painfully aware of how quiet the house now was, and would be for a while yet.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bell-mère noticed a distinct change in her youngest child’s demeanor and she wasn’t entirely sure she liked it. Every day the girl went to the north end of the island and sat, looking out over the water as though searching for something, for someone, and it was beginning to become annoying.

“Talk to her,” she told Cora one day. She put a new bushel next to where he was sitting, having been banished there after dropping four other baskets of the fruit. The man stopped sorting mikan and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Why me?”

“Because, she knows you’re wrapped around her finger.” Well, that was true, but it was true of Cora and all six of their kids. “I also can’t tell her shit without being a hypocrite—by the time I was her age, I already was causing trouble.”

Ah… no wonder. He stood upright and stretched, attempting to shake sorting duties from his limbs. “Nojiko, can you please continue sorting for me? I have to go fetch your sister.”

“Okay, Dad!”

His heart still warmed a little bit every time she called him that, the wonderful feeling never quite dulling with use. He gave Bell-mère a quick kiss before wandering down the lane in search of their daughter.

Sure enough, Nami was there at the northernmost point of the island, sitting with her knees drawn up and a yearning expression on her face. Cora sat down next to her in silence, letting the sea breeze wash over them for a bit before speaking.

“You really want to go that badly, don’t you?” he asked. She did not reply. “It’s dangerous out there, my little wave, and the rest of us don’t want you getting swept away.”

“Bepo-nii’s not that much older than me,” she said. “They didn’t even bring Noji-nee and she’s older than him!”

“Your brothers were all living alone for a while before they ended up with me,” Cora explained. “They know what it takes to live on their own, how strong someone has to be—you don’t yet, which is a good thing.”

“How…?”

“It means your mom got you at the right time.” He tucked some strands of hair behind her ear so that he could see her face more clearly. “You’ll get out there one day; you just haven’t met the right people to take you yet.”

“Who could I possibly go with besides my brothers?!”

“That’s something we’ll all find out when the time comes,” he said. “For the time being, though, you have to help in the grove and keep at your studies. What will happen if you run into Bepo and forgot how to draw a map?”

The girl shrugged sullenly. “He’d be disappointed, I guess.” She thought for a moment, then turned towards him, her brown eyes impossibly wide. “Can you teach me how to fight? So that I can leave one day?”

“You want to learn how to fight…? Nami, sweetie, you’re not a fighter… not that way. You’re no soldier.”

“No, but I need to be able to hold my own. You and Mom were both strong Marines! You can teach me!”

“I, uh, think this is a conversation we need to be having at home, with your mom…”

“Oh, come on Dad! Please, please, please, please, pleeaasssseee…!” the tween begged. She gave him the saddest eyes possible and he wavered.

Shit.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What?! Absolutely not!” Bell-mère scolded later that night over dinner. Her younger daughter was picking sourly at her peas, while the elder was wisely remaining quiet. “Nami, you’re not a soldier. Dad and I can’t be teaching you Marine level shit just because you asked nicely!”

“Peng-nii and Sach-nii are pretty pathetic and they got training before they left.”

“Penguin and Shachi got training before they left because they are teenagers who knew they needed something in order to keep up with Law and Bepo, a Devil Fruit user and a Mink,” Bell-mère stated. “You are an eleven year old Human girl with no extraordinary powers useful in battle.”

“What if Arlong comes back while they’re gone!” Nami insisted. She slammed her hands on the table in anger. “Law-nii’s not here to make it easy anymore!”

“Then Dad and I will have to take care of things,” Bell-mère said gravely. She glared across the table at Cora, who seemed to want to shrink in his chair and disappear. “See what you started?”

“What if we both did it?” Nojiko asked quietly. Bell-mère turned her attention to her older daughter, unsure if she should shut her down or hear her out. “That way there’s always someone our size to spar with—Nami’s almost the same height as me now anyhow.”

“You both are better than this,” Bell-mère said. “One look at you using Rokushiki and the Marine recruiters will be on your asses to join up… at best.”

“I… don’t think they care,” Cora said. They watched as the girls both looked at one another with downturned faces, trying to be sneaky about it. Bell-mère rubbed at her temple, knowing a headache was coming on.

For fuck’s sake; she wanted better than this for them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dad, Mom, Nojiko, Nami,

We made it back to the beginning, where we all met. Everything’s very much the same. Animals seem to have taken care of the Birdcage victims, so it’s better on Bepo’s nose, but the rest of Minion Island is hauntingly familiar. There is very little here. There were a few things hidden from our first time on the island—we’re calling it our first set of loot.

We’re off tomorrow to get a ship from a man Penguin and Shachi used to know. Let’s hope this pans out.

I love you.

Law

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Screeching happily, Nami ran out of the house while waving the paper around. It was Nojiko’s turn to help in the orchard, so all three of the people she needed to see were out there.

“What the fuck are you screaming about?” Bell-mère asked, suddenly missing the ability to smoke. Nami crinkled the newspaper as she held it up.

“They did it! They did it!”

“They did what?” Cora asked. He took the newspaper from her and grinned devilishly at the article. It wasn’t front-page, but it was something.

NEW ROOKIE PIRATES IN NORTH – HEART PIRATES MAKE SPLASHY SCENE

There, next to the article, was a photo of a flooded palace, absolutely ruined by the pirates in-question. No bounties had been officially issued against the miscreants, but there was an impending one of an undisclosed amount for the leader soon as a proper photograph could be procured.

His sweet, darling sons sure were growing up fast.

“Give me that,” Bell-mère said, snatching the paper. Two moments and she was howling with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Nojiko frowned. She looked at the paper and her brow furrowed. “They’re just getting in trouble.”

“The right kind of trouble,” Cora explained. “You know the country Law was from? The nobility fled there. Something tells me they’re not done, either.”

Both girls looked at their father and saw something sad on his face, but something happy as well. They figured it would make sense later, but for now, they were just glad to know that their brothers weren’t captured.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dad,

Law is getting tattoos and it’s my duty as the eldest to both try to talk him out of it and to tattle when that doesn’t work. Guess what didn’t work?

He’s scary. Why did you let us leave with him again?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nami,

Here’s some neat pens I found! I got us matching sets, since we have a little extra from our latest haul, and mine already work great! The nibs hold wonderfully to pressure, though I suggest you try writing or drawing something silly first before using it on an actual map. They actually seem to adjust themselves to compensate for paper weight and texture…? Please test it yourself and let me know if it does it for you too.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Mom,

So, you know how when you were teaching us what you know about Rokushiki and Shachi and I couldn’t quite get what was going on with Rankyaku? We were swimming in the ocean today and, well, I think it finally kicked in. Literally. Ha. I don’t think I’ve ever swam faster in my entire life, and it still didn’t tire me out! We’re still not good at the others, but Rankyaku… this could be something really big for us! I wanted to let you know because… well… thank you. It still means a lot, you know, what you and Dad did. All of it. Just because it’s not front and center all the time doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a lovely, quiet evening as Bell-mère and Cora sat together on a bench on the edge of the mikan grove. The breeze off the ocean was cool and all they heard was the nighttime bugs and frogs and other critters that scurried about while the sun was down.

“I’m worried,” Cora said lowly, his grip around Bell-mère’s waist tightening. “The papers are still saying that Doffy is in Dressrosa… that he’s a Warlord…”

“Ignore it,” she replied. “He’s a worthless sack of shit.”

“Yeah, but he’s still my brother… I feel a sort of responsibility for not finishing the job…”

“…a job which the old goat should have never sent you on,” she reminded him. “At least you know Vergo was decommissioned and locked away—his reach isn’t what it was.”

“…what I know of it, anyhow.” He pressed a kiss to her head—peach fuzz growing back in from when she last shaved and shaped it—and exhaled heavily as he lingered. “If I know Doffy, he’s figuring out a way to blackmail Law into becoming the next Corazón…”

“Don’t think about that,” Bell-mère ordered gently. “Our boys are better than to let that happen. Besides, you haven’t officially gone by your family name—let alone your real name—in a while. You can just fade here with me, being a farmer, letting those made of better stuff take care of him.”

“Belle, we were some of the best…”

“…and what that fuck deserves is to rot in the bottom of Impel Down until he’s good and dead. You can’t get to him in order to haul his ass there without getting yourself killed, while I’d just kill him outright. Maybe letting him think he can trick Law will end up being his downfall.”

“He is extremely charismatic and persuasive…”

“The boy also knows he’s a piece of shit,” she reminded him. “We raised those boys to be better than him, Rosi. They’re not stupid… even the stupid ones.”

They both laughed at that, knowing that she was completely right.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Noji-nee,

How is Nami doing? I know it’s rude to open with that, but I need to write it down before I forget! There was something about her last letter that seemed off. Is it that she started Girl Stuff too? You know I won’t tease her like our eldest brothers. I just want to make sure she’s okay. She’s the only one of us younger than me, you know.

How about you? Are your studies still okay? Any funny stories? Please tell me you went out with that boy from the island over… Heim…? I can’t find your other letter for reference. PLEASE tell me you went out with him. I have beri riding on this. For the record, I can’t blame you not wanting to date until well after we left—Peng-nii and Sach-nii are bad enough when it comes to Ikkaku. Oh, yeah, we got a gal on the crew a while back and she can get scary, but she usually isn’t because our brothers will be like that for her. Even Law-nii will get in on it, but that’s just how he is. He tries to act like a hardened criminal and jaded war orphan and… well… although that’s not wrong, I’m sure he doesn’t really hide his soft spots as well as he thinks he does.

Garachu.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dad,

We’ve been in Spider Miles for a few days now. I’ve been avoiding coming here for as long as possible, but we needed a part for the ship that we could only really get here and… it’s rough. A couple people have definitely noticed and recognized me, especially around the old headquarters. It’s been abandoned for a few years now. No one wants to go near it because they say that bad spirits manifest there… always have. Maybe that was part of what was going on, in some way. At the very least, it didn’t help.

The bedroom I shared with Buffalo, Baby 5, and Dellinger was still intact. Don’t tell anyone else, but I laid down on my old bed and cried. It was dusty and smelled foul, but it gave a weird sense of closure. That’s… well… that’s why I wanted to write you, because I know you’d like to know I’ve been getting some closure while I’m here. I don’t know what was darker—here or my last days in Flevance—but no matter what, it’s making me stronger.

Give my love to Mom, Nojiko, and Nami. Sometimes, I think about everyone and smile wide, just like you did before you closed the trunk. I love you all.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Dad…? Do we have any other family…?”

Cora-san glanced over at Nojiko, who was sitting at the low table in the sitting room with her schoolwork splayed out in front of her, taking up only about a third of the space thanks to Nami’s cartography practice. He and Bell-mère were cuddled up on the couch, attempting to make the best of a naturally-quiet afternoon.

“Why do you ask that?” he replied. She shrugged.

“I remember Uncle Genzo saying once that you have a dad. Is that true?”

After looking to Bell-mère for assistance—the shit was soundly asleep—Cora shrugged. “He’s my dad a lot like I’m your dad: circumstances and want. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Why…?”

“He lives on the Grand Line—he’s difficult to get to.” The man felt better knowing he wasn’t telling his daughters a complete lie. “My birth parents died long ago, when I was just a kid. Younger than you were when I first brought your brothers here.”

“…because of Uncle Doffy, right?” Cora and Nojiko both looked at Nami, whose eyes hadn’t even lifted from the map before her. “I heard Law-nii talk about him when he thought I wasn’t around. The boys tried to keep him a secret.”

“Oh, is that what the guy Dad and Law-nii used to work for liked to be called? In the Family?”

“He is literally your uncle,” Cora said gravely. His daughters both stared at him, clearly taken aback. “Doflamingo and I might have had the same parents when we were small, but he is nothing like the rest of us. He is sick in the head. If at any time someone approaches you claiming to be him, or sent by him, do not indulge them and get one of us immediately. I don’t care how good you’ve been getting in your training—get your mom or me, preferably both. Do you both understand?”

Both teens nodded silently.

“Good.” He offered them both a soft smile and put a sound barrier on Bell-mère, who was now snoring. “Maybe one day you can meet the dad I have now. He lives at Marine Headquarters and is a stubborn old man.”

“We can’t tell him about our brothers then, huh?” Nojiko chuckled. Cora shook his head.

“Nah—he needs to know about all his grandchildren and their insane ways,” the man smirked. “In time, though. We don’t want to shock him too much, after all.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bell-mère double-checked the amount of bills she was given before handing her customer some change. With a freak storm coming over the Red Line and freezing some of the other Eastern mikan crops, Cocoyasi was busy with travelers wishing to restock their citrus supplies and storekeepers wanting to simply keep up with their normal demand. The man before her was one of the former—the chef of a passenger ship whose patrons were now wandering the city with curiosity and delight.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she replied. “Want some help loading the goods?”

“If you have help, that would be nice—bad back and all,” the chef said. He waited until after Bell-mère came back with a cart, on which Nojiko and Cora began to load the crates of fruit. “Couldn’t enlist in the Marines because of it, so it’s why I like to give to veteran-owned businesses.”

“It’s not as glorious as it’s cracked up to be,” Bell-mère shrugged. “It might have been for some, but I’m willing to tell you that from my experience, you’re not missing much. Actually, you might be saving yourself a lot of hassle thanks to that back of yours.” She watched a flicker of confusion pass over the man’s face—he was clearly much more used to former military personnel who were all bluster and enjoyed subtly revising their own recollections of events… or worse. “I still appreciate the business. You’ll be coming back for the quality, not to worship what I did in a past life.”

“Mom’s modest,” Nojiko interjected, “but she’s not wrong. My parents don’t sugarcoat things because it would be a disservice otherwise.” The teen then took a piece of paper from a box and handed it to the chef. “A map of the area—make sure you give it to the ship’s navigator.”

“Uh… thanks…” The man awkwardly looked at the map—honestly more ad than map thanks to the prominence of the grove—and raised an eyebrow. “This is really good. Who’d you have make this?”

“My daughter,” Bell-mère said. The chef looked at Nojiko and both teen and mother laughed. “No, my younger daughter. Fifteen and has long been a steady hand.”

“Does she… take orders…? I think the captain might be interested in her charting a map to use for the customers.”

“That’s something the captain’s going to have to ask her,” Cora stated, a tinge of darkness to his voice. “Our daughter doesn’t just do things for anyone, you know.”

“Of course, of course…” He bowed his head as Nojiko went to pull the cart along. “I’ll let the captain know who to talk to if interested.”

“Much obliged—don’t be a stranger.” Bell-mère and Cora then watched as the chef and Nojiko walked back into town, with Bell-mère landing a firm smack on Cora’s rear once they were out of earshot.

“Whoa! What was that for?!”

“It’s for ‘Nami’s practicing at the north shore and Nojiko will be occupied for at least half an hour’,” she replied. “You getting all protective was kind of hot.”

“It’s what a dad does… what parents do…”

“Still doesn’t mean I don’t want you up those stairs so you can get under me.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

We need your help Gingersnap,

Please take this ring and sneakily give it to Dad. He wants it for Mom. I guess the gem is stone from the island where they met? Nojicakes likes to IGNORE MY MAIL and I can’t send it right to Dad or risk Mom getting it instead. Same would happen if Penguin sent it, Bepo can’t keep a secret, and Law’s acting funny about it, so… ta-da! We’re it.

If they get married in the meantime, remember that you’re our favorite and we need lots of photos. Don’t tell Nojicakes I told you that. I mean, I’m sure she’s figured it out, since you’re the youngest, and she knows we still love her too, but telling her is still mean.

You’re still the favorite and we’re counting on you. Lots of photos.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bell-mère and Cora were, indeed, married soon after the latter went down on one knee and presented the former with the ring their children helped them acquire. Genzo was the one who coached them through their vows as they wore their best suits, while Nojiko and Nami threw orange blossom petals in the air. The entire village ended up coming out for the party, which lasted well into the night and they collectively needed a whole weekend to recover from. They finally made honest people of each other, and it simply felt right.

Yes, plenty of snail-photos were taken. No, Nami absolutely refused to send any to her brothers.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law-nii,

It’s so odd, how hard it still is adjusting to the fact that you four are not here even though it’s been years. Every so often I feel like the house is too quiet, too clean, too big for it to be the four of us who are left. Yeah, Nami’s moved out of my room, but at the same time, there is a decided lack in the goons bickering, or Bepo sobbing at someone’s teasing, or your extremely deadpan comments. I never thought I’d ever say this, but I actually miss your sense of humor. At least you were the only one around here with a constantly-functioning brain. Nami honestly doesn’t count because her map thing is an obsession. Then… you know… Mom is Mom and Dad is Dad. The idiots are just that and Bepo is too precious. No further explaining needed.

Enclosed is a photo, as requested. Now promise to keep it safe, alright? It’s just a copy, but I really don’t think Dad wants there to be a photo of himself wandering around, especially one taken with his wife and daughters on his wedding day. I’ve sent one to Grandfather as well, through the direct emergency channel Mom sent him the message about those Fish-men, which I’m sure is about to go over as well as Dad in a deep puddle. After this, I want no ribbing about how Nami’s clearly the favorite. If it wasn’t for me, you four likely would only know a quarter of what does on around here.

By the way, Ikka-chan wins the bet. She promised to write me what the results are when you announce them, so no cheating you big dummy. You have to bring the crew here when you’ve got a nice break in your travels—her and I need to have some Very Serious Girl Time to negate the fact I’m sure the ship smells like Shachi’s feet and Wet Bepo and too many farts to count.

I can only hope my brothers are missing me just as much as I’m missing them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“…and why are you two loitering on my porch this time?” Genzo asked. The two teens didn’t even look at him, with Nojiko continuing her book and Nami laying on her back with her arms spread out and gaze glued to the support beams of the porch’s roof. “It can’t be that bad.”

“We can’t even work in the grove,” Nami shuddered. “They’re just there… going at one another like they’re trying to make it so I’m no longer the baby of the family. No sex after marriage is a myth, apparently.”

Genzo paused at that. “Please tell me they move it into the house.”

“Oh, they stick to their room,” Nojiko supplied coolly, “but considering Mom is the only person who can get Dad to lose control of his Devil Fruit ability, and the knowledge of what is happening even when it is silent…”

“Ah.” The man shifted uncomfortably before nodding in commiseration. “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure Bell-mère would rather cut off a foot than gain another kid by any method other than adoption-via-kidnapping.”

“It’s the only thing stopping us from running away,” Nami deadpanned. “Sach-nii was eighteen when he left, and Law-nii wasn’t that much older than sixteen—we could make it.”

“A navigator and an assistant manager of an orchard does not a crew make,” Genzo chuckled. “Look: I know you feel like you are ready to leave, but just give it a bit more time, alright? There’s plenty to do on the island that doesn’t involve being anywhere near your parents while… they… test their bed frame.”

All three shuddered. It should have been a crime for them to think about such things.

#Cora-san #Donquixote Rosinante #Bell-mere #Corabell #Bellazón #Tangerine Hearts #One Piece #fan fiction #Penguin One Piece #Shachi One Piece #Trafalgar Law #Nojiko #Nojiko One Piece #Bepo #Nami #Nami One Piece #Trafalgar D. Water Law

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luminarot · 10 months ago

Text

There’s a little piece of home still rotting inside of him, trapped somewhere in the hollow of Wesley’s chest so it follows no matter how far he gets from that dusty road ; sometimes, when his mouth is tacky with blood ( tasting iron off the backs of cracked and shifting molars ) , it feels like he never really left at all. Maybe that’s just how it is when you grow up in a place like that. He doesn’t really have anyone left to question, but if he were to go out on a limb, he thinks Cora would probably know the answer.

That is, her movements are familiar enough in their eggshell walk that he'd never actually ask her anything.

It’s also part of why he feels the need to tell her there’s no debts here. God knows everything before came at a cost, but Wesley’s never been one to ask for favors. Power never really suited him, leaving wounds to fester in the place of a father ; it's not something he likes to think about very much. He does like to help, though, whenever and however he can — even if it means taking a hit for a near-stranger. ( Better to risk a walking corpse than someone who won't come back from it. )

Maybe this, too, is something they have in common.

He doesn't say anything when Cora starts to dig through her pockets, waiting with held tongue and raised brow as she rambles about wonky timing and weird stuff — but if she'd offered anything more than the crumpled receipt at the end of it all, he would've turned her down in a heartbeat. It feels monumental enough just to take her number ; after all, he’s never had anyone to call in an emergency before. Never had anyone he trusted to actually help him. Hell, the only reason he thinks Cora might is because he’d seen her helping so many strangers today.

“Okay,” he answers simply. “Thank you.” He takes the receipt and neatly folds it in half, considering it for just a moment longer before he tucks it safely in his pocket. If he ever does call her, he’ll have to find a phone booth to do so — unless he picks himself up a cell phone before then — but that’s a problem for his future self. ( whatever version of him exists. )

"Hey - you're not gonna get in trouble or anything for giving me this, right?" He has to ask, just because of her uncertainty at the start of her spiel. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but I don't wanna screw everything up for you, either. Seems like you have a good thing going."

you don't owe me anything. i don't think any of us should owe each other anything. — @luminarot, from wesley.

HISTORY LIKE THEIRS IS NOT SOMETHING CORA is particularly proud to share, nor even possess. it isn't just bitterness that paints the memories she's kept - nothing so simple. anger is the closest word she has yet found to the feeling, straightforward as it is, but even that, she thinks, is not enough. it should not have been like that. strength, resilience, whatever silver lining someone who wasn't there wants to depict be damned. she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to stop feeling beholden to empathy - the real thing, not just pity.

she swallows her perceived debt, still looking for a way to offer it even if she doesn't realize it. she finds it - well, something inside her jeans' pocket: a receipt from just before she left, & reaches across the table for anything to write with. ‘ i don't know if i'm supposed to do this. um... the timing can be a little bit wonky, but, ’ understatement of the century as cora scratches down a phone number. hopefully whatever trick had been done to it had worked. ‘ if anything weird ever happens & you need help... ’ pen taps over its dried ink lightly, rapidly, like a drumroll.

she clarifies, ‘ like, really weird. i don't know, usually we're just, like, a total magnet for weird stuff. or the weird stuff's a magnet for us. ’ she only offers for a lack of typical weird despite an abundance of typical chaos. call it a hunch, but something feels... unfinished.

#cora2ons #muse: wes.#( arc ) . . . another time undone.#(( me just realizing how OFF my icon coloring is on mobile ... why has this happened 2 me ))#(( ANYWAY thank u for this starter it was beautiful & perfect as always<3 ))

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amatchinwater · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Sterek

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale

Warnings: explicit sexual content, public sex, Dom/sub undertones, anal fingering, anal sex,

Words: 1782

Kinktober: Exhibitionism

Ao3 link Masterlist

---

Patience has never been a virtue Stiles had a grip on. Probably ever. So walking around town all day running errands with Derek is very far down on the list of things he’d like to be doing. Like Derek for instance. Doing him is very, very high on said list. Because even as a teenager, when Stiles got too bored, his hand was always right there to take care of his boredom.

Can’t really do that in the middle of a post office.

Well, to be fair, he could. Living in a world full of the supernatural, it’s not exactly rare to see mates having sex publically, it’s just no super common either. So, they definitely wouldn’t be interrupted or told to stop, someone might just give them a weird look.

Stiles is almost to the point of not caring.

“Derek,” he whines, “we’ve been out all day. Are we almost done?”

The wolf opens the post office door for him to head out, “almost. With Cora’s birthday present in the mail, we just have one more stop.”

“Is it a quick stop?” Stiles asks, curling into the Alpha’s arm, brimming with hope.

Derek kisses his temple with a chuckle, leading him down the sidewalk, “yeah.” That didn’t sound very reassuring. “We just gotta grab a few groceries and then we can go home.”

The fox groans dramatically, “that’s not quick!” Stiles is dangerously close to stomping his foot. Managing only just to not deadweight and make Derek all but drag him into the store. They pass the few people working the register as they grab their cart and other patrons on their way to whatever items are so important to his precious Alpha. Stiles is on edge, okay? He’s very pent up with not a very good reason as to why.

There’s no way that Derek hasn’t smelled it on him yet. Stiles is pretty certain that the wolf knows exactly what’s wrong with him and is dragging out their tasks just to watch him squirm. His Alpha may be all broody and silence, but he absolutely knows how to toy with the fox. Derek holds his mate’s hand as he looks at their selection of frozen curly fries. While Stiles appreciates the sentiment, he’s going to burst.

“Just get those,” Stiles points at random, both knowing good and well that he doesn’t care about the kind so long as they’re curly. Derek huffs his laugh through his nose, reaching into the store’s fridge to grab the bag. When the cart is half full, the fox is ready to start climbing the fucking shelves. He’s sporting a chub right now and walking isn’t all that fun. And Derek just smells so fucking good.

Stiles can’t think straight. Ever since becoming a fox it’s been a little harder for him to control his libido with everything being heightened. Have you seen Derek’s ass in those jeans? If the fox doesn’t climb the shelves he’s going to climb himself a goddamn werewolf. “Der,” Stiles whispers, pressing his forehead between the wolf’s shoulder blades, curling his fingers into his leather jacket.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Derek asks, sounding far too innocent. Pretending like he doesn’t know what’s happening right now. That Stiles is seconds away from claiming he’s in heat or something with how fucking horny he is. But that’s impossible because Omegas don’t exist. But that also doesn’t change the fact that Stiles is now hard as a rock in his pants and doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He hears a couple walk beside them in the aisle. Stiles doesn’t even bother risking a peek. Too lit up. Too ready to go. He needs to get the fuck out of here or excuse himself to the bathroom. Something. “Please tell me we’re almost done,” the fox pants the words, breaths getting shorter. Thicker. Harder to maintain alongside his pounding heart.

“Almost,” Derek tells him, “just a few more things.”

That fucking does it.

Stiles groans in frustration, “fine! I’m going to the bathroom then.”

That gets his Alpha’s attention and suddenly they’re nose to nose. Oh shit. “Why?” Derek sounds teasing, “so you can jerk yourself off in the bathroom? Too horny that you can’t wait for this one thing to be done so that I can take you home? Not happening,” the wolf’s face hardens, “you can wait.”

Nope. No he cannot.

“Derek,” the fox says the name with as much conviction as he can muster, cock aching in his jeans, “I’m going to the bathroom. I have to take care of this!” Stiles whisper shouts, “either that or I walk around with cum in my pants because you don’t want to take care of me. Or let me do it myself very quickly in the fucking bathroom.”

Derek’s hand wraps around his throat and his back hits the shelves. The couple in the aisle stops to look at them. Unsure to help or keep walking. Don’t worry, Stiles is far from in danger. Not even his back against the shelves hurt him. His mate’s eyes bleed red, “keep acting like a fucking brat,” the Alpha leans closer, “and I will fuck you right here for everyone to see. Do you understand me?”

The fox chuckles, a teasing, flirty sound, “I don’t think you will, Der.” It wasn’t exactly his intention to make Derek angry per say, but it’s seeming to work in his favor. Stiles is all for poking the bear if it gets him what he wants and they’re both happy about it. “I bet they’d love a good show,” Stiles turns and winks at the couple still watching them, “wouldn’t you?”

“Careful,” Derek rumbles in his chest, sounding far more wolf than man. God, that’s fucking hot. Stiles loves when he just lets go. “I’ll split you open on my knot in the middle of a fucking store. Don’t test me.”

Eyes flashing orange at his mate, Stiles whispers,” you. Won't.” But please, please, do.

That was the last straw for his mate. The fox is whipped around, face pressed against bags of chips with Derek’s hand at the nape of his neck keeping him in place. The Alpha’s warm breath brushes against his ear, free hand working on the belt of Stiles’ pants. The woman whispers, “are they-”

“Yup,” her boyfriend answers beside her. Sounding just as pleased as the fox is about the development.

“But-” she tries again as Derek tugs the fox’s pants to his ankles.

“Babe, hush,” he all but hisses under his breath, “he’s an Alpha. I’d like to not turn into collateral damage here if he thinks we’re trying to interrupt them.”

Stiles isn’t so sure anything is going to interrupt his mate right now, moaning as Derek slips in a second finger. He’s not even remotely trying to bite back his sounds. The fox could care less if the entire store chose to migrate into this aisle and watch what’s about to happen.

“Impatient,” Derek scolds, every syllable a slurred growl around his fangs, accentuated with a slap to his ass. “Ten minutes,” the wolf says, “we would’ve been leaving in ten minutes.” Stiles’ eyes roll back, his mate’s long fingers jabbing the bundle of nerves deep inside of him. Clearly Derek’s wolf thinks that two fingers is sufficient enough prep because they slide out of him. A zipper pulls down while the Alpha pulls back the collar of Stiles’ shirt, reopening the mark he’d left with his fangs as he thrusts himself all the way in. In one harsh snap of his hips.

Stiles screams out, the sudden sensation of being so full of Derek’s cock and his fangs in his flesh, he cums. Just like that. A blush would tinge his cheeks in embarrassment had the fox not felt like he’d been holding that orgasm back for hours. Hell, he pretty much had. The burn doesn’t even hurt. Derek may be rough, but he wouldn’t hurt him. The suddenness and literally cuming from the first thrust was a lot to take in.

“My sweet mate,” the Alpha rumbles in his chest, moving his hips back only to slam them forward. The fox has to grab the shelf to keep himself stable. Derek has one hand pinched into his hip, the other wraps around his throat, keeping them impossibly close, “you’re a brat, but you’re mine. If anyone is going to make you cum when you’re that far gone, it’s me. Say it, Stiles. Mine,” Derek snarls, nipping at his ear.

“Yours, Derek,” Stiles moans, trying to push back to meet his mate’s thrusts. “Just yours, Alpha. Please, please,” he whines, Derek’s cock railing into his prostate fiercely, coaxing Stiles closer to another orgasm faster than he’d care to admit.

“Are you gonna cum again, sweetheart?” Derek asks, pounding into him faster. Harder, the way only an Alpha can as his knot starts to swell at the base of his cock.

“Oh my god,” the woman mutters, sounding breathless. Stiles doesn’t care enough to look and see if watching them made her horny enough to do something in a grocery store too. But the fox does know that his ass doesn’t smell like that. One way or another, she’s certainly being taken care of.

The fox’s head falls slack, pliant to his Alpha’s amazingly brutal pace. Letting Derek use every ounce of werewolf strength he’s willing to give him. “Please, Der,” Stiles gasps out, his mate’s hand falling from his throat to fist his dick. Pumping the fox in time with his thrusts.

“Cum,” Derek grunts. “Cum on my knot,” the Alpha snarls, his thick knot pushing past the rim and locking them together. “Stiles,” Derek moans, grinding his hips until warmth spreads deep in his core. His mate fills him with his cum as Stiles’ own spills over the wolf’s hand.

“Holy shit,” Stiles huffs his breaths, feeling boneless and perfectly floaty. Derek’s knot nestled inside of him has that effect. With grace that even being a fox he couldn’t hope to possess, his mate manages to maneuver them into a sitting position so Stiles can be more comfortable. It’d be better if they were laying down, he’ll admit, but honestly, who wants to lay on these floors? Not Stiles.

Derek chuckles softly behind him, nose brushing the nape of his neck, “better now?” He sounds incredibly soft despite the continued rumble vibrating his chest. Opening lazy brown eyes, Stiles finds the couple in a similar position and a few other people lurking near the ends of the aisle that chose to watch them. The fox snickers to himself, resting his head against Derek’s, “yeah,” he sighs happily, “much better.”

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #teen wolf #kinktober vol. 2 #Match Writes

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princeescaluswords · 2 years ago

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Loved how after learning the events leading to Victoria's suicide, Allison wasn't angry with Scott because she understood why when he said "I couldn't let that be the last memory you had of her" and she feels motivated to swoop in when they're trapping Boyd and Cora even though Chris wants them to stay out of it all but he's coincidentally helping them with his expertise. And she obviously doesn't do it just to "earn" Derek's trust or approval because when she came in like an archer superhero, she didn't say one word and left when the job was done.

And in Frayed, she ignores how her father wants them to again stay out of the conflict but she shows up at the abandoned building/mall anyway with the flash arrows.

You know what's so dismaying about the Teen Wolf fandom? How it so often serves to poison scenes that the production's narrative clearly meant to be powerful statements of character. I used to love the scene you refer to at the start of your ask. I felt it was key to the development of both Scott and Allison while reinforcing the themes of the show.

In Scott's case, it demonstrates his compassion and virtue in the face of his own trauma. Scott doesn't use his horrific attempted murder by Victoria as justification for hurting other people. A normal teenage boy might even have been tempted to use the sympathy he could have garnered from the revelation to rekindle his relationship with Allison. But Scott decided that Allison knowing so long after the event wouldn't change the fact that Allison's mother was dead; it would just cause Allison needless pain. This is in line with Teen Wolf's theme that the suffering of an individual doesn't justify inflicting suffering on others.

In Allison's case, her reaction demonstrates her desire to become strong, but in the right way. The news that Victoria got herself Bit trying to kill Scott might have made a normal teenage girl hide from the truth, to mourn or hate her mother for doing such a thing. But Allison decided to not only accept what happened without a breakdown but to reject the fear that motivated it. Her mother may have done it to 'protect' her, but she doesn't need protection. In fact, she is strong enough to protect others. Teen Wolf never rejects power in itself, but it does insist that power is only a virtue if used for a higher purpose.

What's even better is that this scene also reveals the growth these characters still must attain. Scott is still trying to protect Allison even after Allison has made it clear she resents it, and Allison acts on her own to demonstrate that she doesn't need help, even when getting help might have been more effective. That complexity is one of the show's strong points.

Then, of course, fandom came along and took a huge dump on that complexity. They ignored the themes, the narrative structure, and even the established identity of the main characters in order to turn it into some sort of 'revelation of criminality.'

They did this (and they still do it) by shifting the scene's focus. While Derek had enough going on with the revelations of Cora's existence and Erica's death, fandom decided that the whole thrust of this scene was to demonstrate how mean Scott and Allison had been to him. If only Scott had told Allison about what Victoria had done (without specifying when he had had the chance to do that), Allison would have never gone after Derek (without having any evidence that this would have changed anything). Thus, the scene becomes for them about what people did to Derek in the past, and they completely reject any interpretation that might imply growth in both Scott and Allison.

Of course, it's the same thing that they do to every scene. They've spent so much time trying to make Derek the Big White Victim that they completely neglect his actual emotional development (his slow realization of the the cost of trying to replace his family with a a new one is too high) in order to create elaborate and unsupported fantasies that Erica's death is not because of Derek's inability to trust and his resulting incompetence but because Scott didn't immediately track down Allison and defend Derek for Biting Victoria. Honestly, it never occurs to them that if Scott was supposedly responsible for Erica's death, Derek might have actually said that in this scene?

But it doesn't matter; the damage is done. I can no longer watch this scene without remembering the myriad Tumblr posts and oft-repeated fanfiction trope that Scott's decision to focus on stopping Gerard and the kanima rather than immediately telling Allison about her mother's actions is the cause of the destruction of Derek's pack. What's worse, the fact that they make the brutal murder attempt only about Derek only serves to remind me that this scene is the only time that Scott ever had a reaction after the fact to Victoria gassing him to death while gloating about it, and the fact that the violent actions of Derek's pack in Season 2 only get mentioned once, and not for another six episodes for about five seconds.

You see the tragedy. I'm not thinking about what the show wanted me to take away from this scene. Fandom has hijacked it, and made it about how the lead protagonist and one of the main characters wronged their favorite white character.

#fireflies #teen wolf fandom problems #scott mccall #allison argent #scott mccall defense squad

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write-nerdy-to-me · 2 years ago

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For someone first getting into the ship, what would you say your favorite captain swan fanfics are? I guess I'm asking you because I've read the tags on some of the captain swan posts you've reblogged, and what seems to draw you to them as a couple hits me too. I lay myself at the mercy of your taste 🙏

oh gosh, i'm honored. captain swan have held a special place in my heart for years, and i'm delighted to hear that you've boarded the ship. but to be honest with you, i only started reading ouat fics semi-recently, so my rec list will be small. even at the mercy of my taste, if you don't vibe with any of these that is totally okay. (i know i am a picky bitch, which may or may not play into why the list is short.)

thank you for the ask, anon! 💜

(fics listed in no particular order below the cut)

something suspiciously like hope | rated G The moment Captain Hook opens himself up to the possibility of love (Season 2, Episode 9)

all love is time travel | rated T Killian has long been a captain, and so he does not show weakness or indecision unless he wishes to. Still, the desire to vouch for their chances of success is difficult to balance with the pressing need to school those uninformed of Neverland’s horrors as to the dangers that lie ahead. All this, under the sneer of Cora’s daughter and the reptile stare of his greatest enemy. All this, before Emma Swan.

wait for the morning (i'll be waiting for you) | rated T When Emma still feels like danger is just around the corner, even after Pan’s curse is averted, she takes to wandering Storybrooke’s streets at night. She’s not the only one. Differences in timing and circumstance can change everything - but some things are inevitable.

keep your heart beating | rated G A short missing/extended scene of Emma returning Killian's heart. A little angst, a little fluff. For anyone who watched that scene and needed it to be a million times longer.

learning how to breathe | rated G Set soon after Dark Hollow at some nebulous point. Emma confronts her parents about Neal, and it leads to a heart-to-heart with a certain pirate.

it would kill me (if you didn't know) | rated M (Blatant disregard of canon to follow--don't make me rewatch the show, please) They saved Henry but all got separated in the process, and when they finally made it back to the ship, Emma realized that they were down a man. She's just gonna have to save him. This features some pretty awesome Emma/David bonding, too. This is a classic 'Killian's been taken while saving them and now he's being tortured and Emma isn't gonna stand for it' fic. I've read them all, and I just needed more. POV switches 3rd person between Killian and the others.

killian, persuaded | rated T AU — Storybrooke — When a stunning betrayal forces Killian Jones to reevaluate his life, he finds himself unexpectedly rescued by his estranged brother. Traveling to Maine to meet the family he didn’t know existed, he immediately comes face-to-face with the woman he pushed away a decade before. This time around he’s determined to be a better man and, if he’s lucky, win back the only woman he ever loved. Basically a Hallmark movie with OUAT characters. (The Romance One)

in the offing | rated M AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth. (The Mystery One)

a drowning soul will clutch at any straw | rated T Though this is far from Killian Jones' first encounter with a mermaid, he's never met any quite like this blonde siren. Together, can they break a cruel curse?

sea-foam eyes and a salt-water smile | rated T Killian Jones has seen a lot of things in his job as a private investigator for supernatural beings - but the selkie who walks into his office asking for help is something new and mesmerizing.

#anonymous #captain swan #fic recs #captain swan fic #thank you anon <3 you're so sweet #as always please be mindful of the tags and warnings #(ngl going through my bookmarks made me realize maybe i should make notes about what the fics are bc i lichrally forgot them lmao)#(it's been a hot minute)#nerdy replies

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Never Satisfied [Chapter 6]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“I don’t wanna look like this, fuck”

Previously on Never Satisfied:

Digital Checkpoint activated. Reply to save progress. 💜 — Cora

With minimal contemplation he replies seconds later.

Corpse: save

Cora: your progress has been saved. Thank you for choosing A.S.S. - the Automated Save System. You are now free to activate the digital checkpoint at any time.

Cora: I had a nice time. Text me whenever you need to. We’ll hang out again soon, deal?

Corpse: thank you

Cora: anytime sugar ;)

Funny how a text exchange so simple and short can turn so much around for a person. Funny how a huge weight lifts off him the second he locks his phone, suddenly finding it easier to breathe, to move, to blink, to function - to live. She gives him that kick he needs to be reminded to live and not just be alive. He’s still not comfortable with how much he’s relying on her but seeing her effect on him is nothing but positive, the most and best thing he can do for himself is go with the flow and let things happen. No overthinking, no planning, no shooting guesses, just facing things as they come face-to-face with him. He may never get used to it, but he won’t know that until he tries, will he?

* * *

Corpse sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s been trying to step up a little with the dressing game since he’ll be having a special guest over - ok, truth be told, he didn’t invite her, she invited herself but he’s glad she did. Lord knows he wants her company and wants her around but he could never bring himself to invite her over or initiate a hangout. Good thing Cora doesn’t expect anything from him, not of that nature at least. It’s oddly amazing having a person like her - someone who basically reads his mind like an open book and then takes action according to what she’s read. It’s not only the fact that she accurately gauges all his wants and needs, but also how she knows exactly what to do to satisfy them. To calm him down, to relieve his anxiety, to make him feel comfortable. He feels strangely selfish for always being on the receiving end of this friendship, although he doesn’t see much he could do for her. He’s decided to let time have full control of the course of their relationship, hoping his giver time would come soon.

As of now, however, it still hasn’t and he can stomach that.

It’s been about a week and a half since their first hangout but he hasn’t missed her once. That may be due to how much they’ve been texting ever since he unlocked that checkpoint she offered him. To be more specific, it probably has something to do with the fact that her texts are always so full of life and light, sounding almost like she’s there with him, talking in her signature upbeat and bubbly way which is such a contrast to his own melancholic approach to any conversation ever.

She’s also sent him a ton of memes and selfies, plus pictures she took of clients’ pets. In return for her kindness, he’s sent her bad jokes, weird internet articles about ghosts and pictures of the current game he was playing. Needless to say, their chats have been very colorful.

Now that the scene has been set up a little better, a direct timeline of events lading up to this one would be appreciated, wouldn’t it? Ok so, it all started with an “I’m bored” text Corpse received from Cora about two hours ago. Instinctively, and partially because he didn’t have any idea what else he could possibly say in response to that he sent back an apology. An apology Cora apparently deemed a loophole she could use to invite herself over cause that’s exactly what she did, not that Corpse minds it much. In fact, he felt his heartbeat quicken with excitement when her “K then, I’ll be there in a bit :)” text came in. At first he thought it was his anxiety kicking in but when he realized the rest of his typical symptoms remained absent it took him a little while to pinpoint what that emotion could be.

The epiphany came in the form of the word ‘excitement’.

Regardless of the newfound feeling, or maybe exactly because of it, he attempted to protest. A protest she killed easily with a threatening “I know where you live” text which sent Corpse scrambling to get the apartment in some kind of order. Himself too, it’s safe to say he wasn’t looking the most presentable when he received that message.

His cleaning session consisted mostly of him shoving the strewn about items in his closet and closing it shut like a wild beast dwelled inside, placing a chair in front of the door as a sign for her not to open it and also as a way of preventing the thing from opening on its own because of how overflowing it was.

Afterwards he scrambled into the shower to scrub himself down. It’d been too much for him to tackle given he wasn’t doing too well mentally, but considering he was now suddenly expecting company he thought it’d be for the best not to subject his new friend to the three-day-unshowered Corpse stank.

Right now, his main focus is his face, his stomach sinking at the sight of himself in the mirror’s reflection.

How does she even want to see me?

His mirror is cracked along the right side, spider web-like cracks reaching towards the center of it from the impact point serving as a reminder of a particularly bad night he’d rather forget.

He sighs as he combs his hair, knowing the dark curls won’t oblige and behave no matter how much he tries. He touches his jaw, deciding to let himself off the hook by deeming that a shave wouldn’t be necessary for at least another day. And then his eyes land on his clothes - an outfit it didn’t take him long to put together since those are the only articles of clothing in his closet he’d consider presentable enough to be shown off in front of a new friend who is yet to find out how much of a slob he really is. That clothing choice consists of a black button-up shirt and jeans.

This is nice, right? It’s fine. It’s business casual but definitely leaning more towards casual, as some would say. I look...nice, decent. I’ll take it - it’s enough. Far better than my ‘usual’.

A knock at the door startles him, though it’s quickly followed by a voice he’s grown to find very endearing:

“THIS IS THE COPPAS! OPEN UP YA’ DOOR!” The voice yells out, probably loud enough for the whole complex to hear but it’s not like he gives a shit. And, as context clues show, neither does she.

Corpse exits his bathroom, heading for the front door, pulling the chain off and unlocking the deadbolt before opening it. The object of his newfound affection stands on the other side, grinning and beaming with that usual light she has surrounding her. Her hair is thrown up into a messy bun - a hairstyle she seems to love - and she’s wearing a simple red t-shirt covered in little chubby, cartoonish black cats that seem to be struggling to exist.

He smiles a little, finding it in himself to speak up but when he opens his mouth to do so, she cuts him off.

“Jesus, did you just come back from a funeral?” She asks, pulling at one of the buttons on his chest as she walks past him, letting herself in.

His eyes, completely on their own accord, wander down as she walks on by, causing him to swallow hard as he finds himself staring at a pair of tanned legs, patterned by the fishnets she’s wearing, leading up to a pair of short black shorts.

She turns on her heel about halfway down the hall, leading him to take an inevitable notice of how her well-loved boots could use a polish. Anyhow, he snaps his gaze away to hide the fact he’s been gawking, despite not really meaning to.

“No, but for real, why are you wearing that? You seem super confined and uncomfy, bud.”

Corpse blinks before swallowing and glancing down at himself, pulling at the button she touched before looking back up, his gaze traveling up the length of her legs. She has suspenders hanging over her thighs, more of an accessory than a necessary addition to her outfit. “I just...I dunno, I thought it looked nice. Does it not? I mean, I wouldn’t know, really. I don’t usually dress like this.”

“I mean, you look dapper as fuck but if you’re not comfortable then change, get your comfy game on. I’m the last person you need to impress in this world.”

God, she sees right through him. Even so, he considers protesting, trying to convince it’s all fine, that he likes this shirt and the outfit in its entirety. But her stare sets the record straight for him - she’ll know it’s all lies. And with that in mind, he lets his shoulders fall. Not a full second passes before he promptly starts undoing his buttons.

“Oh, thank fuck.” She comments as he goes to retreat into his room, stripping the shirt off as he walks, unaware of her lingering eyes on his back, unaware of her lower lip bitten between her pearly teeth. Unaware of the subtle shift in her stance as she looks him over much like he did her moments earlier.

When he returns a moment later in a simple dark grey t-shirt, she greets him with a grin and pats his chest. “Much better.”

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to crash on his couch, throw on a bad movie and just sit in comfortable silence. Comfortable silence - something that usually eats away at him and is anything but comfortable he now sees as calming, a soothe to his ever-racing mind.

Disrespecting the movie, Corpse takes to analyzing his guest instead. She has so much confidence, he can’t help but notice, like she’s been here hundreds of times, known him for so long. He hates her a little for it. Well, it’s not quite hate, it leans more toward envy. Jealousy. That human-nature characteristic of wanting what someone else has but you desperately need/wish you had. In his mind, she’s almost selfish: Why couldn’t she share some of that confidence and carefree manner with the rest of the world? It oozes out of her like a drip of honey from a beehive, sweet and warm. And all he wants yet has none of.

He instinctively tenses up as he feels her move closer before, suddenly, her head drops into his lap, legs kicked over the armrest of the couch. He holds his breath almost subconsciously, staring at her as she remains focused on the television. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he puts one across the back of the couch and the other awkwardly bent above his head. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea if he touches her. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep nor does he want to overstep any of her boundaries, despite the fact she’s walking a dangerous line of overstepping his. Well, that would’ve been the case if this was done by anyone but her. The way Corpse comes to this realization is when he figures out that he really doesn’t mind this proximity, as long as he doesn’t embarrass himself or creep her out in any way.

What felt like an eternity passes before she finally speaks up, still without looking away from the movie playing on the screen opposite the couch, “You know, I can feel how tense you are.”

His face flushes with embarrassment, heating up as his mind immediately goes to the worst possible outcome of this situation.

She’ll probably sit up, or leave, he thinks to himself, heart thumping in his ears as he tries to observe her face the best he can from this angle. Nevertheless, he swallows that fear as she rolls her head to look up at him with those large glittering doe eyes, grinning a bit as she seems to always do, “You can just put your hands wherever it’s comfortable for you. I don’t mind.”

He hesitates for a moment but, as always, he doesn’t get much say cause she makes the choice for him, knowing that pesky fear is keeping him immobile. She takes the hand from over his head and pulls it down to rest just next to her skull. She then drags the one resting at the back of the couch, placing it so his hand is resting dead-center on her stomach. Satisfied with how she’s rearranged his posture, she goes back to watching the movie but not before asking: “This okay?” while looking at him through her peripheral vision.

He’d have to admit it’s far more comfortable like this.

“Yeah, it’s fine. You’re okay?” He asks, feeling relieved when he feels her nod against his leg.

He moves his hand a little and swallows hard as he contemplates if he really should make the move he’s thinking of at the moment. And then he abruptly decides not to think. So, instead, he acts on it.

Without thinking of any potential negative consequences, Corpse slides his fingers to lace with hers, resting their conjoined hands on her stomach in the same spot where she left his hand a bit ago. She curls her digits around his tighter as reassurance that it’s ok. Her palm feels warm in his hand, her thumb tracing his cold metal rings.

Checkpoint...his checkpoint.

Is this what it feels like to be normal?, he wonders, Is this what it feels like to really connect with someone? He has never felt this before. He’s never met someone who has such an effect on him, understand him like this - Without even having to ask she grounded him; she knew what he needed and didn’t make him feel like an idiot about it. Instead she gave him the comfort he needed.

And suddenly he finds himself afraid - realizing that this isn’t simply a vibe of two buddies hanging out. He has that subtle ache in his chest that’s telling him he wants something…something substantial from this friendship. He wants this to last, or for it to blossom, he’s not sure yet. But for the first time, he doesn’t feel the overwhelming need to figure it out. That’s one of the many effects this girl has on him - she’s the definition of improvisation, unpredictable and alive. He’s slowly learning to let loose himself, all thanks to her. Slowly, he’s learning to trust time.

He abruptly realizes he’s glancing at her often as the movie is still running, examining her features and slowly running his gaze down the length of her fishnet-clad thighs before quickly looking away, mentally scolding himself. It’s hard, but he manages to turn his gaze elsewhere for his sake and hers. For the sake of keeping things normal, platonic and not in any way awkward for either of them. The last thing he needs is to make things weird by letting his mind wander and activate his libido and then she’d really notice how tense he is.

Cora remains oblivious to what’s going on in his head, thank God, as she continues running her thumb across his knuckles, eyes half lidded in calm content - something that’d typically seem like the complete opposite of what she is. He likes seeing her like this, tamed almost. He feels like no one else has had the privilege to see this calm side of her. Maybe that’s not the truth - it probably isn’t - but he still feels special, knowing that it’s a tight circle of people who have seen her this way.

And then he realizes the movements of her thumb on his hand have stopped.

He freezes for a moment, his fearful gaze travelling to her face where he’s relieved to find her eyes closed only seconds before he hears a light snore escape her.

She’s fallen asleep.

It’s an odd scene. She’s such a wild and free spirit, seeing her fall asleep like this is like observing an abnormality, a paranormal event. You know, like something one doesn’t usually believe exists or is capable of happening. He’d never before been able to imagine her asleep. It’s ridiculous, he’s aware - she’s human after all, but his mind has never been able to comprehend the thought and image of her captured by the power of sleep. He simply couldn’t see it happening. But now that it’s happened in front of him, he can’t look away from the sight of her relaxed, peaceful features, overcome by sudden slumber.

And then he comes to the realization that he’s now practically held hostage on his own couch, crippled by the danger of waking her up. It’s gonna be a long while, isn’t it, he thinks to himself, yet there’s still a satisfied smile on his face. A smile that’s a result of knowing he’s held hostage by her. That’s more a blessing than a curse, if he’s being honest.

@fockingwhore @vixenl @annshit @wineandionysus @wiseflamingoqueen

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coraclavia · 3 years ago

Text

Robert Beltran in "Models, Inc." Part 1

Today on Cora Watches, I ask for your patience with the garbage picture resolution because I watched this show on The Youtube in 240p. I have no idea if it exists anywhere else, at all, ever, because it never got a DVD release. So the screenshots are pretty blurry.

Also, only 10 images per post now, so there will be multiple parts to this.

Anyway!

Models, Inc. is a 1994 spin-off of the smash hit Melrose Place. The story centers around a modeling agency run by Amanda's estranged mother. I did not watch Melrose Place or Beverly Hills 90210, so I have no helpful info to offer on that account.

The show didn't take off, and it was cancelled after one season. Ratings weren't great, and neither were reviews. According to Wikipedia, the source and summit of knowledge, "David Hiltbrand of People described the show as 'part underwear ad, part catfight, part Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and part psycho ward."' Which, if you ask me, is quite a testament.

There are a few interesting things about it, though! It stars Linda Gray, aka Sue Ellen Ewing from the 1980's mega-hit Dallas.

The models at her agency were relatively unknown young actresses, including this pretty woman with great hair:

(This was 4-5 years before The Matrix, and in this show, she actually gets to smile!)

But you come to Cora Watches for this:

Robert Beltran plays Lieutenant Louis Soto, a detective investigating the death of a model. Possessor of dimples. Wearer of boxy suits. He appears in nine episodes, all of which aired in 1994. Plot-wise, he's investigating the death of one of Linda Gray's models, so he has to talk to everyone. It's really adorable seeing Chakotay talking to Trinity.

"Ma'am, do you promise you didn't murder her?"

He and Linda Gray butt heads. She's a strong, savvy, stubborn businesswoman who doesn't want him intruding in her business. Then one evening they run into each other in the grocery store parking lot. They make peace, and she tells him, "hey, that wine you bought is garbage, have this one instead."

OPE!

And his immediate response is: "I don't know why I just did that."

And then he gets his hand shut in a car door, so she tells him, hey, come back to my place and I'll bandage it for you. Ah, the old "get ur hand shut in a car door" trick. 60% of the time, it works, every time.

You know what this smooth-ass dude does? Oh yeah. He breaks out the slow dance.

I assume you know where this is going, because we know this man's track record of chemistry with strong, feisty women............

Next time, on Cora Watches: Will they bang? Will he solve the murder? Will you be willing to look at more screenshots of 240p that was apparently filmed on a potato?

Stay tuned to find out!

#Cora Watches #Models Inc.#Robert Beltran #Linda Gray #Boxy Suits #Robert Beltran's salt-and-pepper hair #it works for me

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redhoodedwolf · 4 years ago

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“Oh shit I just spilled you coffee everywhere” sterek prompt

The first time Stiles made coffee for his boss, he was halfway to a panic attack, which was a weird thing to be anxious over. Except for the fact that his boss was Derek Hale. And Derek Hale liked his coffee made by one person in the office only, and that was Erica Reyes, his old assistant.

Stiles had always been told he was shit at making coffee. It was the one thing he’d lied about being good at in order to get this job.

Thankfully, Erica still worked for Hale Corp, just under a different position, so Stiles had struck a deal with her. She would have Derek’s coffee ready for him every morning so he could pass it off as his own. In return, he had to keep her up to date on all Derek gossip, apparently the one fun thing her new job lacked.

Easy decision. Stiles shook his soul away, but he got Derek his coffee every morning, and had even seen him smile a few times.

All was well for a few weeks, up until Jackson Douchemore came back from an extended business trip. Stiles knew Jackson from outside of the job, because he was friends with Lydia. Jackson also knew Stiles and knew exactly how to ruin his day, just because he could.

Feet from Derek’s office, Jackson rounded the corner, an evil look in his eyes, and proceed to trip Stiles, sending him and the coffee to the floor.

“Whoops,” Jackson crowed.

Derek stuck his head out of his office, stopping Stiles form either punching Jackson in the face or just melting through the ground and ceasing to exist.

Jackson’s triumphant look cowed under Derek’s glare. “Whittemore, call maintenance and have them clean this up before it stains too badly. And bring Stiles your extra shirt.” Jackson opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Derek added, “Now,” and the blond was gone.

“You okay?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and tried to ignore his brain adding angel wings and a halo to Derek’s figure. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Sorry about your coffee.”

“It’s fine. Just rinse out the mug and make it again, after you get changed.”

“Right.” Stiles froze. “Wait. Again?”

Derek smirked. “The company is doing well enough that every employee can have more than one cup a day. It won’t break the bank.”

“Ha! Right!” Stiles jumped to his feet and took the plain white button up that Jackson threw at him as he passed. “I’ll just go change and do that!”

He swiped the mug from the floor and raced for the kitchen. Depositing the mug in the sink, he swung around the corner into the Men’s and undid his shirt, wincing at the stain that would never come out. Stiles was keeping Jackson’s shirt forever, he owed him a new one anyway.

One problem solved. Now...

Stiles stared at the mug of steaming coffee. Easy part done, he just had to press the buttons on the machine. Now came the cream and sugar. How many spoonfuls of sugar does Erica usually add? Three? Dammit, he should have taken notes!

Creamer was easier, at least. He added until the coffee looked like the right lighter shade, then stopped, stirring it all together. Okay, maybe the coffee was a touch lighter than usual, but maybe Derek wouldn’t notice and would just be happy he had coffee at all? Right, sure.

Stiles was going to be fired over coffee.

To amuse himself, Stiles played a funeral dirge in his head as he trudged to Derek’s office, eyes peeled for sneaky Jacksons.

Stiles knocked on the office door, and Derek called him in.

“Coffee!” Stiles declared, lowering the mug onto Derek’s coaster at the corner of his desk.

“Thanks,” Derek said, a small smile given to Stiles. His eyes flicked down, then back up. He cleared his throat. “Shirt looks good on you.”

Stiles glanced down. It was maybe a bit tight. Stiles had shoulders where Jackson had none, so it stretched a bit (it was probably fitted, the rich bastard), but it was wearable for sure.

“Certainly nicer than anything I can afford,” Stiles agreed.

Derek reached for the mug and Stiles flinched back.

“Right, I’ll just...” he jerked his thumb behind him to the door.

“Actually if you wait just a second, I just have to moved the files onto this flashdrive, but then could you take it down to Argent for me?”

“Sure, no problem,” Stiles rushed to say, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Derek brought the mug to his lips, tilted it to sip, and Stiles stared.

Derek glanced up, lips detaching from the mug’s rim. “Everything okay?”

“Yep!” Stiles squeaked.

Derek took a long drag of the coffee this time and then sighed. Stiles’ shoulders relaxed. Somehow he’d managed it. Miracle of miracles.

Derek handed him the flashdrive seconds later, and Stiles was out of there.

Jackson had not given up, it seems, on his venture to get Stiles fired through coffee, because he struck again the week after.

“Oh, was that yours? My bad, I thought it was old so I dumped it,” Jackson said, Derek’s mug upside down over the kitchen sink, the last drips hitting the metal basin with a sad plop.

“What the fuck, Jackson?” Stiles hissed, looking back to see if Erica was still around and could remake the mug she’d expertly crafted, but she was gone. He tore the mug from Jackson’s hands. “Seriously, go to therapy. It’ll do you wonders.”

Stiles violently threw a new pod into the Keurig and shoved the mug under the spout before turning back to the snake of a man. “Who knows, maybe Lydia will take you back then.”

Jackson’s face shut down, and he turned and left the kitchen without another word.

Not letting the guilt get to him, because Jackson deserved what he’d said, Stiles reached for the sugar and creamer, once again going to guess Derek’s flavor combination.

It looked to be the correct shade this time, and Derek hadn’t said anything against it last time, so maybe he wasn’t such a coffee snob?

“I bring good juice and good news, both piping hot,” Stiles declared upon entering Derek’s office.

Derek stared at him for a moment, lips parted, before his mouth snapped shut and he gestured Stiles to come forward. “Hot. Yes?”

“The good news is that someone is going to be calling today about her United States debut,” Stiles sang, setting Derek’s mug down on its space.

Derek’s eyes lit up. “Cora?”

Stiles nodded. “Mhmm. It’s already in your schedule and everything. I scheduled it right before lunch, in case you want extra time to talk with her about, you know, logistics.” Stiles waved a hand.

Derek took a gentle sip of his coffee, eyes slipping closed, clearly happy to discuss his sister’s joining of the company. Stiles may have stared at the happy-bliss look for too long. He averted his eyes just in time.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. “Just my job.”

Stiles left the office then, closing the door behind him and taking a steadying breath. His heart should not be going so wild. Derek was his boss. It was totally unprofessional.

“Stilinski.”

Stiles’ spine went ramrod straight, and he turned towards the sharp voice of Jackson, ready to give as good as he got, when he saw the other man’s face and he paused.

Jackson wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You really think therapy will help me get her back?” He sounded like a broken man.

Stiles groaned loudly and slumped over in half, head pressing against Jackson’s chest.

Derek popped his head out of his office, asking what the noise was about.

Stiles didn’t have the energy to move off of Jackson’s unfairly sculpted torso, just waved his hand in Derek’s direction. “Just releasing my pride.”

Jackson awkwardly patted him on the back, and Stiles raised his head enough to give him a tight-lipped smile.

Derek said nothing for a moment, but then his office door closed swiftly with an audible click.

“Okay, dude, let’s reconvene at lunch, eh? We’ll talk it out then.”

Jackson nodded tersely and then turned around and went back to his office. Stiles wanted to groan again, but apparently Derek didn’t like it, going by the practical slam of his soft-close door, so he held back and decided to save it for later.

The third time was truly all Stiles. He’d grown out of his clumsy ways after high school, but he still had the occasional twitch that caused a commotion.

He supposed he could blame Derek too, but he couldn’t blame another man for his reactive emotions.

It had been two weeks since Jackson and Stiles had met for lunch and Stiles listened to Jackson for perhaps the first time in his life. He’d recommended a psychologist, gently suggested anger management classes, and promised he’d put in a good word with Lydia and assured Jackson that she was single and wasn’t interested in anyone else.

Since then, Jackson had gone back to mostly ignoring his presence, which Stiles was fine with. But they greeted each other in the halls when they passed. The one time Derek and Jackson were having a meeting and Stiles had come in to deliver mail, Derek had stared with wide eyes at the smile Jackson gave him when asking how his day was going.

So that issue was solved. Stiles thought he was in the clear. Shame on him, really.

He held Derek’s mug securely in his hands, reveling in the warmth from the drink. It had been a cold walk from the bus this morning, and the coffee was finally zapping the lingering cold from his phalanges.

Stiles raised a fist to knock on Derek’s door, but heard someone’s voice first. And not Derek’s.

Now, Stiles was Derek’s assistant, so he had a right to be a bit nosy into who was ruining his perfect schedule for Derek, right?

Stiles unashamedly pressed his ear against the door.

“You should take him,” Derek said, then added something else Stiles couldn’t catch.

The other person in the room laughed, and Stiles realized it was Cora. She did start work on Monday, so it made sense for her to be here to get everything squared away. Still...

“... can’t be his boss anymore...”

“Why?”

“Cora... better suited...”

“Sure, that’s why...coffee?”

Stiles startled, the voice much louder than it had been, and he didn’t step away in time before the door opened. The mug flew from his hand, thankfully away from other people, and once more the carpet was stained.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Stiles!”

Stiles recovered the thankfully unbroken mug from the floor and stared dejected at its emptiness. “Nope, that was all on me. I was, um, not paying enough attention to hear you?”

“I’ll call maintenance. You go bring my brother his lifeblood,” she joked.

Derek stood in the doorway, face surprisingly blank, and Stiles wondered if Derek had guessed he’d been eavesdropping.

“I’ll be right back, Stiles mumbled and escaped. Because the look on Derek’s face was worrisome. Why would Derek need to hide his emotions regarding their conversation from Stiles, unless...

“Shit, I made him shit coffee twice and now I’m sacked!” Stiles shouted to the sink. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, but the sink gave him nothing to work with.

Screw it, he was already a gonner.

Stiles mixed the coffee haphazardly, not even sure he’d added sugar. Maybe he’d grabbed the salt. Either way, Derek deserved it for shipping him off to Cora because of two bad mugs of coffee.

“Here,” Stiles offered, voice terse, holding the mug out to Derek a few minutes later. He refused to set it down on principal.

Derek was keeping his neutral face mask on, which pissed him off even more. Still, he took the mug gingerly and then stared down into it.

“Drink it,” Stiles challenged.

“Did you poison it?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

“Do you know of a reason I would poison your coffee, Derek?” Stiles asked batting his eyelashes innocently.

Derek blanched, but clearly had nothing to say. He brought the mug to his lips and took a careful sip. He smacked his lips afterwards and set the mug on the coaster. “I think I’ll live,” he declared, a few seconds later.

“It’s shit,” Stiles spat, throwing himself into the chair across from Derek’s desk. Might as well get the transfer done sooner rather than later.

“The coffee? Tastes fine to me.”

“How can it?!” Stiles exclaimed. “I made it!”

“I’m not picky about my coffee, Stiles,” Derek argued, which.

What?

“But... when I was interviewed, I was told that getting your coffee just right was first and foremost.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Erica interviewed you, didn’t she? I think she went with that excuse to weed out the weaklings, or something.”

So, Stiles had been plying Erica with Derek gossip for months while she just made a random cup of coffee?!

But, wait.

“If it’s not my coffee-making skills, why are you firing me?”

Derek’s eyes went wide. “You were-- Eavesdropping, Stiles, really?” He sighed heavily. “Also, you’re not getting fired. I’m suggesting you transfer over to Cora’s assistant because she’s working in a division that suits your job advancement better. This was never a permanent position for you at Hale Corp, Stiles. You’re far too smart to organize my calendar all day.”

Stiles’ head was reeling. “Wait, so... wait. I’m. You think I’m smart?” he squeaked.

Derek chuckled and stood, walking out from behind the desk. “Yes, I do. And so does the company. But I also think you’re very attractive and if I’m your supervisor I can’t do anything about it. So?”

Derek leaned over Stiles, arms bracketing him in as the clutched at the arms of the chair.

Stiles swallowed thickly, eyes bouncing all over Derek’s face, looking for any sign of a joke.

“How--” he cleared his throat and felt his face burning in embarrassment over the crack in his voice, “how fast can we get the transfer paperwork done?”

Derek grinned. “Fast enough that you’ll be under Cora by Friday night. Say six thirty?”

“Rather be under you Friday night, but yeah, Sounds great,” Stiles spoke on a exhale as Derek rocked closer, the foreheads touching.

“Gross.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Jackson,” he snapped, eyes sliding closed as he felt Derek pull back. “I thought we were done with the bullshit.”

Stiles turned in the chair to look at the blond who simply shrugged. “I already got Lydia’s forgiveness, what more do I need you for?”

Dammit. Lydia was fickle in love. Then again, who was Stiles to judge?

“Forget it. What do you need?”

“It is the middle of a work day, in case you forgot,” Jackson pointed out, and Stiles felt the urge to punch him rising.

“I’ll be with you in a second, Jackson,” Derek said, managing to sound not pissed off.

Jackson backed out of the office, but left the door wide open.

Stiles glanced back at Derek. “Look, I know he’s the illegitimate son of your wild and estranged uncle, so technically, despite the fact that he was adopted into a different wildly rich family, he is Hale by blood, but does he have to work here?”

“You should meet Peter’s illegitimate daughter.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “No thanks.”

Derek smirked. “Get back to work, Stiles. We can iron out Friday’s details later.”

Stiles grinned, bubbling happiness filling his chest. “I’ll pencil it in.”

#sterek #fic #eternalsterek #fanfiction #asks #ninjanervana

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