big red & shiny

kylokiwi  asked:

could you please write some headcanons for an indiana jones!ben solo au? like he's his son and he's somehow even more cocky and smug and you are w e a k for it LOVE U

OH ABSOLUTELY. UTTERLY.

benjamin henry jones is more his father’s son than he cares to admit. henry jones junior was a complex man; part overbearing father, part absentee, part best friend, part worst enemy. his father taught him to be both a free spirit and a conformist, to value knowledge and to kick ass. 

but as he grew, ben grew away from his father, ultimately pursuing his own career as a for-pay excavator. he does dangerous jobs in uncharted territory, recovering lost artifacts and bringing them home to whoever pays the highest price. he’s suave, he’s free-wheeling, and he’s somehow even more rough and tumble than his own father was. he gets in more fights, more close shaves. his father’s daring-do runs in his veins, but ben turned the dial up to an eleven.

but as much as ben prides himself on blazing his own trail, escaping the colossal shadow cast by his legendary father, it seems that there are more ties to him in ben’s life.

like the number of artifacts he routinely recovers for the university his father used to work at.

he’s, effectively, their man on retainer. they’re a very, VERY well-funded establishment, so they can hire this wild man to run out to tibet and find them some lost scrolls, some ancient tomes.

and ben does it because it’s good money.

and because he may or may not have his eyes set on a very different treasure indeed: the literary theory professor.

she’s everything he isn’t; a homebody, quiet, reserved. but she matches his passion and intellect, and everything she does lights a fire in him. the way she plays hard-to-get, how she can quip back and forth with him, understanding all of his references, all his archaic knowledge. she’s everything.

he’ll frequently stop by her classroom and watch her teach, standing in the doorway with his low-cut shirt, dirty slacks, scuffed boots. countless students turn and stare at him, giggling and gossiping because “oh my god he IS as handsome as people say!” and “have you ever seen someone like that before?” his crush glares at him from her desk, annoyed that he’s disrupting her lesson, but he just twirls his hand, prompting her to go on silently.

“-and as i was saying,” she snaps, turning away from him to jot more notes on the board- “-the brothers karamazov is a notable novel for it’s inclusion of-”

a wave of giggles and dreamy sighs rises behind her, but she doesn’t turn. she hears footsteps, and the bell rings, cutting her point off entirely.

“remember to read chapters twenty through twenty five,” she yells over the din of feet and backpacks. “there WILL be a quiz in the coming week! so please-” but no one’s listening. they’re all filing past her, smirking at ben as he leans on her desk.

there’s an apple on her desk with a bite taken out of it, and he grins at her, eyebrows raised.

“hiya, teach,” he purrs. “you looked mighty cute teaching about russian literature.”

“and you looked mighty putrid as you ruined my class,” she hisses back, shoving her papers and dog-eared novel into her bag. “it’s not easy to schedule this kind of work, much less have someone step in and ruin my whole lesson plan!”

“aw, don’t be mad. i’m just here to learn!” his deep brown eyes almost compel her to listen, but she whirls away, getting ready to storm off to her office. ben is faster, though, and steps in front of her, leaning into the doorway. “i’d love to hear your take on the literary value of lady chatterly’s lover.

she pretends that she doesn’t know that he’s talking about one of the most famously sexual novels in the world. she ignores him and brushes past, stepping into the hallway as ben quickly uses his long legs to outstrip her own pace.

-stupid heels make her walk slow, stupid hallways so tight and confining, bringing him close enough that she can hear him breathing, feel his warm skin close by, smell his aftershave-

“you know, you still owe me one.” she glowers at him, seeing his smug smile.

“one what, jones? i hardly recall owing you anything.”

“you do. i got that first edition of a christmas carol for you! and now you owe me something in return.”

“first,” she snarls, “i didn’t ask you for that book. it was very nice of you to give it to me, yes, but i thanked you and that’s all i needed to do. it wasn’t obligatory, so there’s no debt to pay.”

“you don’t even know what i was going to ask for,” he chirps. “it’d be so easy. in fact, it wouldn’t put you out at all. you could pay up right here and right now and be done with it.”

“fine. what do you want?”

they still their walking as she arrives at the door to her office, and ben leans in close, one hand gravitating to the doorframe to prop his weight as his face inchestowards hers. his eyes skate over her face, lingering on her lips, and he smiles, beautifully crooked teeth on display.

“one, single, itty bitty kiss,” he croons. “just one. though you might find that just one will make you want just one more, and another, and-”

“if i kiss you, will you shut up and leave me alone?”

“if it’s what you really, truly want,” ben replies with a shrug. “but it won’t be what you want.”

her heart is racing. she has to admit, the thought of his full lips against hers, his hand on her cheek, his big nose rubbing hers softly- oh, but what is she thining. she sets her brow and stops her hands from shaking, then closes her eyes, screwing them up tight.

“get it over with,” she says, as if waiting for him to punch her instead of kiss her. “but just one, three seconds long at maximum, and no tongue.”

“tut, tut. such a taskmaster. but i am at your disposal,” he hums, and before she knows what’s happening, a big hand is under her chin, and he’s tantalizingly close, so near that his breath is upon her skin.

“if you really don’t want me,” he whispers shyly, “all you have to do is say ‘no’. i won’t make you do this. i will never make you go through something you don’t want.”

“just kiss me, jones.”

and he does. he presses his lips to hers and she is so- so- so glowing. her skin is on fire and her head bursts with colors and it’s only three seconds, just as she asked, but suddenly she wishes she had been more generous.

ben pulls back, suddenly more shy and boyish-looking than she’s ever seen him, and he sheepishly looks down, his whole face flushed red, even to the tips of his big ears.

“sorry, i- i shouldn’t tease you to get that from you.”

“ben.”

he looks up. she never calls him that.

“come into my office. i think you were right.”

her hand tangles with his, and his chest stirs, his heartbeat racing. 

“a-about what?”

“i think that just one wasn’t enough.”

and his eyes are glittering, golden, warmed and alive, and oh, how he smiles. he smiles like it’s christmas, and he just found the big, shiny, bright red bike under the tree.

“yes, ma’am,” he breathes, following her as she tugs his hand and guides him into her arms.

The Dragon and I (DenNor/SuFin)

This one is darker than the preview ones. Just because is the story of the dragons. Part I.  Part II. Thank you all for your awesome support! :D 

I’m not George R.R.Martin so don’t judge, lmao. 


Once upon a time, humans and dragons lived in perfect harmony. Nobody was sure where the dragons came from. Some people said that they were gifts from the gods themselves. Others said the creatures already existed when mankind appeared.

People gave the dragons gifts every once in a while so they could keep protecting them from the evil spirits and for some time, that deal actually worked.

On that specific location, there were four dragons. Two big ones and two of a smaller size. While some of them were kinder to people than others, it was certain that they didn’t mind in helping when people were struggling.

The big red dragon with shiny scales lived in the south. A smaller blue one was his partner. He often appeared in front of the people, every time when someone called his name. His partner had his doubts about it. He was afraid that the red dragon would get in trouble. While he didn’t hate humans, he didn’t trust them either.

But the red dragon always tried to make it seem it wasn’t a big deal and that was his big mistake.

On the north, a golden dragon ruled the mountains with a light blue one. While he wasn’t as friendlier like the red one, he didn’t deny anyone his help.

Legends told that they also brought fertility and abundance to the lands, so people were happy to honor them. Huge festivals were made in the name of the dragons and more often than not, they made they show up as appreciation.

But one day, a dark wizard appeared. With his magic, he managed to convince to young leaders that if they killed the major dragons, they would become kings and everyone would love them.

So armies were formed and the harmony was broken. And the dragons didn’t see it coming.

The red and the golden one were made prisoners by the dark wizard.  They didn’t even intent to escape because they thought that it was a big misunderstanding.

The smaller ones only escaped by miracle. The blue one wanted to rescue the red dragon badly but the light blue knew it was only going to make things worse.

Humans wouldn’t dare to kill a dragon, right? But the light blue made a big mistake.

The big dragons tried to negotiate their way out. What humans could possibly want from them? They have never killed anyone or damaged any properties at all. Most of the time they only minded their own business and only in very special occasions they actually got out from their caves.

But the dark wizard didn’t care at all. He wanted to kill the dragons so he could use their blood and scales.

Neither of the big dragons wanted to fight the humans. They knew that they could kill them all and escape. But was it really worth it?

The red one asked then if at least they could spare the life of the smaller dragons. Since they were huge, they wouldn’t need the blood from the other ones.

The golden one stared at the sky while being imprisoned. He couldn’t move his wings or his legs at all. He was hoping that his partner went as far as possible. Then he put his attention towards the dark wizard.

“If you kill us, you are going to bring devastation to these lands” The golden dragon warned the men.

But neither the wizard nor the men didn’t really care. They wanted to hold the titles of “killer of dragons” so they could reclaim the throne.

The only weapon that could get through the skin of a dragon was a rare metal that was only found on a mine in the north of the kingdom. So the dark wizard decided that the best way to combat a beast of fire was… With fire itself.

The blue dragon wanted to intervene but the red one shook his head. They were already sentence to death and he didn’t want his partner to suffer the same destiny.

“Promise you’ll wait” The red dragon requested to his partner “And you won’t kill anyone. This isn’t their fault after all” The creature explained to the other one with sadness.

“I’ll wait for eternity if that’s needed” The blue one responded before flying away.

The light blue dragon refused to say good-bye. He wanted to kill everyone there, but the golden one was trying to comfort him.

“Don’t do anything stupid. I shall return to your side” The golden creature said with certainty.

When the fire was really near them, they decided that the least they could do was dying with honor and dignity. The animals roared and wiped their tails until they were bleeding. The sound that they made was so horrific that most people that watched them died thought that they were going nuts.  

The smaller dragons watched the way that their partners were fighting until they stopped moving. Both of them started a disaster and burned every single crop and town that were in there way as payment for that.

And like the golden dragon promised, the devastation came soon to the kingdom. The reign splat in two and remained in war for over a century. Their leaders were killed in combat and nobody knew what happened to the dark wizard.

Over the curse of time, some villagers said that they could hear a sad moaning coming from the mountains. So sad that they could shrink the heart of anyone who came close to it.

The remaining dragons stopped protecting the humans and people just forgot about them. And that’s how the legend was made.

But the blue and light blue dragons had a big hope. That someday, in somewhere, their partners were going to reborn and come back to them.

anonymous asked:

Aww, poor Tom! Can I get a continuation where Aax, Marco, and Tom meet again with Tom translating his Uncle's tongue? I'm pretty sure Aax acts like a total mom and refers to him as "Tommy". XD

Sure I can! I’m so glad you liked the story! I just wish I got it when the first request was sent out, because it may have been different. But like I said, I had a computer virus and junk hahaha. Anyway, I hope you like the story! Enjoy!

Read the last one here! https://tomco-headcannons.tumblr.com/post/164193142082/hey-can-i-get-some-tomco-fluff-maybe-where-marco


“Okay, stay behind me.” Tom told Marco. Something about him seemed different. He seemed on edge and nervous, and he was gripping Marco’s hand tight. He was pulling him in every direction to get through the Dead Area. And he would push Marco aside and hiss for him to hide, his eyes would light up, and then after a moment when he was sure it was safe they would continue.

“How do we know where your uncle is?” Marco asked, very quietly and very softly. Tom shrugged, turning around to pick Marco up and carry him like a bride.

“I don’t know, hold on to me.” Tom commanded. Marco held on tight and Tom jumped over a large ditch. As soon as he made it safely over, large claws and tentacles came out of the ditch and tried to grab them, but Tom held Marco tighter and zipped away. “Don’t worry, those things won’t come after us, they can’t survive out of the darkness of the crevices.” Tom assured.

“You think you can put me down now?” Marco asked, blushing a bit. But Tom just shook his head, his eyes glowing a bit brighter.

“No.” Was all he said. His ears kept twitching like he heard something in the woods, and he would hold Marco tighter. After a minute he set Marco down. He then walked over to a tree. Tom then grabbed Marco and held him on his back, and climbed the tree easily. When they were at the top they could see the entire dark and ominous forest.

“There!” Marco called, holding tightly onto Tom’s shoulder, and he pointed with his other hand. “That could be where he is.” He motioned to a small place in the forest that was surrounded by the same black smoke that enveloped Aax’s body. Tom nodded.

“Yeah, that’s him.” Tom agreed. He slid back down to the ground and put Marco down, grabbing his hand and running quickly. When marco was having trouble keeping up, Tom just scooped him up in his arms again and held him tight, running faster.

Pretty soon they made it to what seemed like a wall of this black smoke. “U-Uncle Aax?” Tom called softly, putting Maroc down. There was no response. “Avunculus?” Tom tried, even softer. After he called that a figure emerged from the smoke. It was the same tall lanky and crooked thing that chased Marco earlier. It was terrifying, and looked like his limbs were snapping and bending in unreal ways. But then it spoke.

“Tom?” He asked. Tom nodded and two big shiny red orbs appeared on the monster’s face. And he dove down like a vulture going in for the pray. But instead of hurting Tom, he scooped him up in a hug and held him tight. “Tom! Tom! filium meum!” He cried.

“Avun Aax! Et vos desiderabat:!” Tom exclaimed. The monster held the demon tight and spun him in circles, rambling on and on and on. After a moment he pulled back and looked at Marco confused. He moved closed, letting his big red eyes travel up and down the human confused. “Oh! Aax, this is Marco! My boyfriend. You saved him last time he got lost in here.” Tom introduced. Marco smiled and held his hand out.

“I’m so sorry for running I… I was so scared. I didn’t know you were trying to help me. But you saved me from that fairy and, thank you.” Marco shook hands with the demon. A big shiny grin appeared on Aax’s face. His sharp teeth and big mouth spread across his whole face.

“Quam dulcis pueri. Tom tu tale sit hic et angelus venit?” Aax said, looking at Tom. Tom smiled and looked at Marco.

“He said you’re really nice, and he’s mad at me for bringing you to such a dangerous place.” Tom laughed lightly, looking up at his uncle. Marco blushed and rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, well Tom took very good care of me.” He assured. “He practically carried me here the whole time.” Marco recalled. Tom then smiled big at Aax, who laughed. His laughing sounded like scary gargling. But it was cut off by a hissing noise from the woods.

“Nos have ut vado. Huc tibi tuta parumper tenere spiritum et finem aliquando adepto praeteritum obice eris.” Aax spoke fast and ushered them in.

“He says it’s dangerous out here.” Tom started. “We have to go inside. We’ll be safe there.”

“Won’t the smoke hurt me?” Marco asked. Tom shook his head.

“Just hold your breath to get past the barrier then you’ll be okay.” Tom assured. Marco nodded and took a breath, running through. He opened his eyes and saw the thin wall of smoke led into a small and nice looking home. Not what Marco would expect from this area. He heard Tom’s uncle say something and Tom translated.

“He says to sit and make yourself comfortable.” Tom told Marco. Aax came over and led the human to a chair, smiling and saying something else. “He wants to know if you’re hungry of want anything.” Tom laughed a bit. Marco giggled as well.

“I’m okay, thank you very much. I would actually like to get to know you. Tom spoke very highly of you and… I just wanted to meet you.” Marco admitted. Aax fell back and thought for a moment, he said something to Tom, who just shrugged.

Aax began to speak and then Tom translated. “He says there’s not much to say other than he adores me.” Tom stopped and blushed a little. “Avun cut that out. Marco’s here.” Tom mumbled and then continued. “He raised me as a baby and little child because my parents were busy with the kingdom, and he really loved his old job as a teacher.” Tom finished.

“You were a teacher?” Marco asked. “What did you teach?” He asked. Aax spoke and Tom translated.

“He taught young cubs the history of demons, our ancient ways, and ancient scrolls.” Tom spoke. “He always was told to teach me separate because I was the prince, but he would sometimes read stories to all the cubs and he would sneak me away to play with the other cubs.” Tom laughed, rubbing the back of his head.

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Marco cooed. “You guys were really close, huh?” He asked. Aax nodded and gave his nephew another hug. He said something that Made Tom smile lightly and look away. “What did he say?” Marco asked.

“He said he can’t thank you enough for getting lost that day or… he would have never seen me again.” Tom started. “And that he missed me so much and… he already loves you.” He finished. But then Aax took Tom by the shoulders and said something with urgency.

“I promise.” Tom nodded. He looked over at Marco. “He… as much as he wants to see me again. He doesn’t want us coming back here. It’s dangerous and he doesn’t know what he’d so if we got hurt.” Tom finished. Marco nodded and got up, to take Aax’s hand.

“I promise to keep your nephew safe.” Marco vowed. “He’s my demon, and I’ll make sure he’s just fine.”

Three’s No Crowd, Chapter 7/7

Read the rest on AO3



It’s in cap’n’s nature to push. If he spies a big red shiny button, you can damn well guarantee that he’ll wind up prodding it, however clearly it’s labelled Danger: Ejector Seat.

This right here is the perfect example. Yondu pops his question as they lay piled together in the aftermath: sweat and breath mingling, leakage crusting skin, everything stinking of sex and overheated hydraulics and huffer smoke. The fan does it’s best to introduce clean air to this concoction, but it’s a doddery old thing. They’ll be festering for the foreseeable future. But Kraglin and Yondu are used to it, and if Nebula dislikes the stink, she can always turn off her sensors.

“So, girlie,” Yondu drawls. He scratches at a splash of spunk, which managed to slip under his shirt and dry on his belly. “Ya tell yer sister about us, yet?”

It’s a barbed prickle of a query, made for no other purpose than to get a reaction. Kraglin would smack him for it - lightly - if he weren’t so sated and sleepy-warm. And if Nebula wasn’t carding through his hair, rhythmic and slow, delivering one sharp tug for every three strokes that makes his breath catch and his scalp burn, leg jerking like a dog in the throes of a rabbit-chasing dream. 

Luckily, Nebula doesn’t need him to fight her battles. “Have you told Quill?”

“Touché, darlin’.”

She’s hogging the coveted middle spot. When Yondu slings an arm across her shoulders, dragging her in to press a bristly kiss to her cheek while Kraglin curls happily against her legs, head on her lap and enjoying his petting, she doesn’t complain. Her mouth even makes that upwards twitch that means she’s smiling.


Unfortunately, Yondu’s teasing proves a harbinger of what’s to come.

They don’t bother staggering their exits. They’re too old for that shit, the lot of them. While they ain’t gonna sit the Guardians down and hold their hands as they broach this awkward conversation topic, skulking around and fucking in storage closets like randy Ravager-rookies don’t hold much appeal.

Well, it does for Yondu. The Ravagers’ general intolerance of sentiment meant that he and Kraglin spent several years’ worth of off-shifts rocking together in those poky cabinets, which tended to smell of cleaning solvents and the past occupants’ bodily fluids. But while he hadn’t minded it, Kraglin had. When Yondu tries to pull the cap’n card and assert some authority, Nebula reminds him that she’s technically his business partner, and Kraglin meekly mutters something about Yondu not having a crew anymore, and so is it technically correct to call him cap’n? Eventually,  Yondu acquiesces to being outvoted, for the sole sake of shutting them up.

And so. They ain’t gonna hide their ménage à trois. And it’s a good thing they came to that decision before opening the cabin door, because Quill’s got his whole darn team stationed outside.

They’re waiting to ask Yondu for yet another detour. When Yondu and Kraglin saunter out, yawning and scrubbing at unshowered armpits through their leathers, they all start babbling at once. They’re trying to convince him that it’s of the utmost importance to Yondu’s prime directive – make money – that the Guardians go and liberate a colony of indentured servants in the Outer Rim, for a payout that won’t cover their fuel costs.

When Nebula emerges, that natter trickles to a halt. It’s as if bungs have been shoved into every Guardian’s mouth in ascending height order, from Rocket to Gamora to Mantis to Drax.

Quill, forever a step behind, is the exception. He advances, eyes only on Yondu.

“So, in conclusion, we’re gonna need the shuttle and the entire weapon load. There’s probably not gonna be any profit, as such, but you should still totally let us use your resources because think of the poor children, and – is that Nebula?”

Nebula waggles her fingers. Her stoicism could rival a rock’s. Kraglin corpses quietly into his fist, and Yondu being Yondu, doesn’t bother disguising his cackle.

“The one, the only, boy.”

“What was Nebula doing in your room?”

“Oh,” says Yondu breezily, adjusting his fly zipper. “This and that.”

“I’m this,” Kraglin deadpans. Nebula nods to Yondu.

“He’s that.”

Rocket’s muzzle crinkles around his frown. The rest of them are still mid-process. Drax examines the trio before shrugging and proclaiming that their union is for the best, as repulsive people should stick together, while Mantis looks rather too interested. (She must know what sex is, right? Peter’d told them about his father’s creepy softcore manikin-porn montages- but Kraglin doubts the old jackass would’ve explained them to a girl he saw as a walking, talking sleeping pill. That’s gonna be one cringey conversation. Hopefully Quill will handle it - although not with practical demonstrations.)

Gamora meanwhile, stares at her sister as if she’s seeing her in a whole new light. Nebula bristles.

“What?”

Gamora’s chin wags silently. Then a smile blossoms. Like Nebula’s, it stretches stiffly around her cybernetics, and makes the angles of her cheekbones a little less reminiscent of knife blades. “I’m happy that you are happy,” she says.

Rocket pads up to Yondu, Groot on his shoulder. He tugs his pant leg for attention.

“I am Groot.”

“Whassat?”

“She shot you in the head, man. What the hell?”

Yondu shrugs. His eyes flick to Nebula, teeth bared in the smuggest of his many, many grins. “Implant. Right, girl?”

“Right,” Nebula agrees. She doesn’t take their hands as Yondu leads the way to the cockpit, where he and Quill can argue out the fine points of this job with data pads and graphs and lobbable trinkets at their disposal. They ain’t got that sort of relationship. Kraglin doubts they ever will. But she falls into stride besides Kraglin, nudging her metal shoulder off his flame patch. The pair of them watch Quill trail Yondu, walking backwards so he can goggle between the three of them while jabbering.

“B-b-but she’s like, half your age!”

“Double it, actually.”

“But that means – shit. Gamora, how old are you?”

Yondu smacks the back of his head, jolting the everpresent headphones to dangle. “Don’t ask a lady that!”

Kraglin opts not to mention that Yondu had done the exact same thing last night. He lets his bicep brush Nebula’s as they walk. Their fingertips catch for the briefest of moments before they separate, then catch again, touching and parting with every step in a mutable line of contact.

“But you’re getting more action than me!” wails Peter. “That’s not fair!”

Kraglin smiles, and catches Nebula attempting the same. They share it, for a blissful moment. Then they look ahead, and keeps walking.  She doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t look at her. But neither of them take the sidestep that would widen the gap between them, and really, that’s all that matters.

anonymous asked:

Hello! I was interested in possibly working with Set, (I currently work with Yinepu), and was curious as to what he liked? Thanks! :D

omg Big Red.

Anything gawdy and shiny and dick laden. Yep. He likes balls and is associated with iron and the adze and the was. So any of those.

Anything red or gold. I’ve heard good things about alcohol and meats. Lettuce and ranch is a sure fire win, and I’ve had good success with dark, rich chocolate. Anything expensive or expensive looking.

Did I mention gaudy? like bling bling rhinestone grill gaudy?

For more resources:

guns and hoses

It’s very likely that Derek Hale is going to kill Stiles Stilinski. Because Stilinksi is a total fucking jerk.

Derek first becomes aware of him at a little past 3 a.m. one night, when they get the call for a fire out in the abandoned sawmill. The cops are already there, because…

Because that’s their fucking job, okay? Not that it stops Stilinski being a dick about it.

“Oh,” Stilinski says, peeling himself off the hood of his patrol car. “It’s okay, you guys! Somebody finally woke the firefighters up!”

Derek wants to plant a fist in his face.

“What do you guys do every shift, anyway?” Stilinksi asks. “Eat until you’re sleepy and then wake up when you’re hungry?”

“Asshole,” Derek mutters as he jogs toward the sawmill.

He expects Erica to agree with him, but she just laughs. “Jealousy’s a curse, Stilinski!”

Stilinksi gives her the finger, and the glow of the flames from the sawmill throws the dark shadows under his eyes into sharp relief.

Derek spares a fleeting moment to hope he’s so tired he crashes his patrol car into a tree on the way back to town, then he shoves the irritating deputy out of his mind and gets to work.

***


“You do realize,” Parrish says a few days later while he and Stiles are eating lunch in the diner, “that we’re supposed to be on the same side?”

Stiles grumbles something indistinct into his coffee, and turns his glare on the parking lot, where the big red shiny fire engine is pulling in. Way to make an entrance, douchebags.

Stiles’s hatred of firefighters is legendary in the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. And, Stiles maintains, it has nothing to do with the fact that the woman from that kids’ charity had looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and said. “Oh, no, Deputy Stilinski. People don’t want calendars with cops on them. We’ll ask the fire department.”

Erica Reyes was right, of course. It’s pure fucking jealousy.

And he’s just so freaking tired, and you know what those firefighters get? Twenty-four hours on, and forty-eight hours off. Jesus. Stiles can’t even imagine what that’s like. To have a schedule that’s not completely all over the fucking place, from morning shifts, to afternoon shifts, to night shifts, and back on the goddamn rollercoaster before his body clock’s had time to adjust.

Firefighters work nights as well, Stiles, the voice in his head tells him. It sounds suspiciously like his best friend Scott. Scott always gets to play the voice of reason in Stiles’s mental debates.

“Firefighters sleep nights,” Stiles mutters into his lukewarm coffee. “Do you know how many fires we get in Beacon Hills? Not fucking many.”

“Talking to yourself again, Stiles?” Jordan asks him.

Stiles looks up as the firefighters walk inside the diner. “Yep. Only way to get an intelligent conversation in this company.”

He tries to ignore the firefighters, but Jordan has to be all polite and sociable. He’s even friendly with Derek Hale, the absolute worst of all the firefighters. With his growly face and his thousand-watt glare, and his cheekbones that…

No, wait? What? Stiles was listing reasons why he’s an asshole, not a fucking walking wet dream.

He feels much less confused when Hale walks past their booth and drops a donut on Stiles’s plate with a shit-eating grin.

Stiles could just shoot him right now, right? He could.

“Fuck you,” he mutters instead.

The donut is pink. It has sprinkles.

It is mocking him.

And so is Derek fucking Hale.

Fuck him sideways.

That donut thing is total fucking cliché. You know why cops get fat? Fucking epinephrine, that’s why. Because cops have the whole hyper vigilance thing going on. Firefighters don’t. Their stress levels are totally different. They’re not so elevated all of the time that it changes their fucking body chemistry. And that is an absolute fact. There have been studies.

Studies that tell Stiles he’s going to die twenty years younger than his peers, and all because of his fucking job. Which he loves, by the way, but still. Twenty years. That seems … that seems like a lot to give away for generally shitty pay and the privilege of dealing with assholes day in, day out.

Assholes like Derek Hale, who is currently laughing at him from the other side of the diner.

“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” Stiles mutters.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Parrish asks, ignoring Stiles’s rage and eyeing the donut hopefully. “Because I will if you don’t.”

***

Generally speaking, the relationship between the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department and the Fire Department is a good one. Personally speaking, Derek hates Deputy Stilinkski with the fire of a thousand burning suns. Particularly when they turn up at a dumpster fire behind Burger King one night and Stilinski is already there, already bitching about their response time, and something about getting all the credit just for knowing where to point a hose.

“We don’t just fight fires,” Derek snipes. “You know what EMS stands for, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “Earning money sleeping.”

Derek resists the urge to punch him in his smug fucking face.

“Listen, Hale,” Stiles continues. “All I know is there are two types of people who make money in bed, and I arrest the first type.”

Boyd laughs.

The fucking traitor.

Later, back at the station, Derek lies awake in his cot and seethes quietly.

“I can hear you hating on Stilinski from all the way over here,” Isaac mutters. “Can’t you just fuck him and get him out of your system?”

Erica barks out a laugh.

“Shut up,” Derek snarls.

He doesn’t want to fuck Stilinksi.

He wants to punch him in the face.

End of story.

***

For this twenty-third birthday, Stiles goes to The Jungle. Of course he does. Where the hell else is he going to get laid on short notice in Beacon Hills? Scott plays his wingman for a few hours, but he has to be home by midnight, and, really, he’s the straightest wingman in the world.

“Dude,” he announces, “let’s hit some dick tonight!”

Stiles resists the urge to facepalm. “It’s very nice that you’re being inclusive, Scotty, but that’s not really how we talk, okay?”

“Okay!” Scott bounces off toward the dance floor.

So much for his wingman.

Still, it’s cute. His straight BFF getting hit on by all the boys, and Scott’s so friendly and happy to meet new people that he doesn’t even realize they’re pretty much only interested in fucking. He’ll figure it out eventually. Probably when he gets his wallet out and shows his picture of Allison, her hands resting on her very pregnant belly, and discovers not everyone else is as enthusiastic to hear how in love he is with his perfect, pregnant wife.

Stiles makes a friend of the barman, and makes sure the drinks keep coming.

Scott heads off just before midnight.

Stiles dances some, and grinds up against a few different guys. He’s had enough to drink that he parted ways with his inhibitions a while back, thanks. The music is pumping, he’s surrounded by hot guys, and he’s going to get laid. Happy birthday, Stiles.

Which is right when he smells smoke.

Okay, so the smoke machine has been on all night, but this isn’t the strange, cold taste of artificial smoke. This is the real thing. Stiles is just looking around worriedly when the music shuts off, the lights come on, and the smoke alarms start to beep.

A few minutes later, standing in the cold street with the ladies and sharing a cigarette with Valencia, Stiles groans as the fire engines turn up.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Miss Andrie asks. “Who doesn’t like a firefighter, hmm?”

Stiles doesn’t.

He really, really doesn’t.

“Oh, would you look at that hunk of burning hotness,” Valencia sighs as Boyd heads into the club. “Show me your hose, honey!”

Boyd’s mouth twitches in a grin.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus!” Miss Andrie exclaims as Derek Hale heads for the entrance. “I want to climb that one like a tree!”

Miss Andrie is at least seven feet tall in her heels, and towers over Hale, but Stiles gets it. Objectively, Hale is hot. A part of Stiles wants to forget he knows he’s such an asshole. The other part wants to hate fuck the attitude right out of him.

That’s probably the tequila talking.

Derek looks over, and pulls up short. “Stilinski?”

“Hale,” Stiles says, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to look somewhat intimidating. It’s pretty impossible though, surrounded by this much glitter and taffeta.

Hale’s gaze shifts from Stiles to the posse of drag queens and back again. “Having a good night?”

“Right up until you turned up,” Stiles tells him.

Hale glowers, and walks inside the club.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, and then the ladies turn on him like a pack of raptors.

“What?” Stiles exclaims, flinching away. “What?”

“Have you got eyes?” Valencia exclaims. If she had pearls she’d be clutching them. “Why would you shoot that down?”

“Oh, please! He hates me!” Stiles insists. “And he’s an asshole!”

Valencia rolls her eyes. “Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”

Stiles grumbles at her, bums another cigarette off Miss Andrie, and calls for an Uber. It’s not until he’s halfway home, still stewing at Hale’s dickishness and the ladies’ unfair treatment of him, that he remembers he didn’t even get lucky tonight.

Happy fucking birthday.

***

“Oh,” Stilinski says. “Here they are at last. Not keeping you up, am I, Hale?”

Shit.

Shit shit shit. That is a lot of blood.

“Hey, and you brought the rest of the crew too,” Stilinski says. His face is white. The shadows under his eyes are blue. “You guys gotta travel in a pack, right? Incapable of inde-independent thought?”

Derek puts pressure on his wound, and tries not to think about just how much blood he’s already lost. “Sure. You know us. Can’t even buy a loaf of bread without backup.”

“B-backup,” Stilinksi says.

“Looks like you could have done with some of that yourself tonight.”

Stilinksi blinks up at him, like he’s suddenly not registering the words. His pulse is tachy, and his pupils are dilated. He’s cold. He’s going into shock.

At the side of the road, the lights on his patrol car are still flashing, bathing the world in red and blue. The windshield of the car is shattered. There’s a bullet hole in the hood. One in Stilinksi too.

There’s nobody else in sight. It was a traffic stop, Derek figures, and the guy got the drop on Stilinski. He knows from the frantic radio chatter that there are roadblocks being put in place, reinforcements being called out. Every cop who isn’t here is on the hunt for whoever did this.

Stilinski curls a bloody hand around Derek’s wrist. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks a lot younger suddenly.

“Hold on,” Derek tells him.

Around him, Boyd and Isaac are working quickly. Isaac reaches over and presses an oxygen mask to Stilinski’s face.

“We’ll get you to the hospital real soon,” Derek says. He keeps pressure on Stilinski’s wound as Boyd and Isaac lift him onto a stretcher.

Stilinski’s gaze drifts past him.

“Stiles!” It’s the sheriff. He’s wearing his jacket thrown over his pajamas. “Kiddo?”

The deputy unlatches his fingers from Derek’s wrist and reaches for his father’s hand.

“You can ride in the back, Sheriff,” Derek says as they carry Stiles toward the ambulance. He’s guessing it’d take a braver man than him to tell the sheriff otherwise.

Boyd drives, while Isaac and Derek work on trying to keep Stilinski stable. His blood pressure is too low. He’s in danger of going into cardiac arrest. Isaac holds the oxygen mask on him, his gloves leaving bloody smears on the plastic. Derek pumps fluids into the canula he shoves in one wrist.

“You hold on, Stiles,” the sheriff says fiercely. “Don’t you leave me, kid.”

Stilinski’s eyes are wide but unfocussed. He mumbles something under the mask.

Derek can’t be sure, but he thinks Stiles is asking for his mom.

They race toward the hospital.

***

Stiles spends a week in hospital, three more at his dad’s place, and then four months on desk duty. When it finally comes time to get out and patrol again, he swallows down his fear and checks the tasking sheet.

“Seriously?” he asks. “Dad, seriously?”

“Problem?” his dad asks, reaching for his hat. “Let’s start with a foot patrol on Main and see where we go from there.”

Stiles sighs dramatically.

“I’m just saying,” he says later, picking up his grievance from where he left it before his dad bought him a coffee, “this is ridiculous. I’m a grown up! I have a firearm. I don’t need my daddy to hold my hand on patrol!”

“You wanna keep bitching?” his dad asks him. “Or do you want me to put you on report?”

Stiles knows when he’s beaten. It doesn’t stop him whining like a little kid though. “Dad!”

They stop in at the bakery, and Stiles’s dad picks up an order for two dozen cupcakes.

“Is it someone’s birthday?” Stiles asks. Shit. Whose birthday has he forgotten?

“Nope,” John says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have to remember how to play nice with others though.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at his dad. “What others?”

John hands his credit card to the woman behind the counter, and doesn’t answer.

“Dad? What others?”

***

“Yo, Derek!” Boyd yells out. “Cops are here!”

“What?” Derek sets down the dumbbells and wipes his sweaty face on a towel before he heads outside.

There’s a patrol car pulled up out the front of the station, and Sheriff Stilinksi is handing out cupcakes to Derek’s crew. Stiles is standing by his side, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else right about now.

“It’s his first day back on full duties,” Sheriff Stilinski tells Erica. “Figured that was worth celebrating.”

Derek wishes he could smirk at the deputy’s obvious discomfort, but he can’t. Stilinski junior might be a dick, but it’s impossible to look at him and not see how he was that night: scared. So fucking scared, and so close to dying.

“I can’t decide which one I want,” Isaac says when the sheriff shoves the box toward him.

“Take two,” the sheriff says. “Hell, take three.”

Derek lets himself get drawn into the small crowd. He selects a cupcake, and turns around to find himself staring into Deputy Stilinski’s face. There’s a look there he’s not used to seeing. Stilinski looks almost vulnerable.

“So, um,” Stilinski says, clearing his throat. “I don’t remember a lot about what happened, but thanks.”

“Just doing my job,” Derek says, and hates the way it sounds.

“Right,” Stilinksi says, the word bitten off short. “Of course.”

Derek could kick himself as Stilinski steps away from the group and heads back toward the patrol car. He snaffles another cupcake, and, sighing, follows him. It’s almost gratifying to see the surprise on Stilinski’s face when he shoves the cupcake toward him.

“You really think I hate you?” he asks.

Stilinksi takes the cupcake hesitantly. “Um, maybe? You’re kind of a dick to me.”

“Oh,” Derek says. “I’m a dick to you?”

Stilinski narrows his eyes. “Um, yes.”

“And you’ve never been a dick to me?”

“Maybe,” Stilinski admits grudgingly, and groans. “Okay, yes, and I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again, and thank you for not letting me die.”

His eyes are the color of whisky. Why has Derek never noticed that before?

“Apology accepted,” he grinds out.

“Oh my god!” someone yells from nearby. It’s Erica. Of course it’s Erica. “Just fuck already!”

What?

Derek gapes. So does Deputy Stilinski. The sheriff shakes his head ruefully.

Deputy Stilinksi points a finger at Erica. “Shut up, Reyes! That is not— That is—”

“That is not what’s happening here,” Derek growls.

“Right!” Stilinski agrees. “That is not what’s happening here.”

Derek eats his cupcake, his face burning.

***

Sometimes, Stiles is pretty sure the universe is just fucking with him. Like the guy he hated? Like, lay awake at night just thinking about how much he hated? Well, when a bunch of drag queens, your own father, Erica Reyes, Parrish, and even Scotty all start telling you that maybe you’ve got your head up your ass when it comes to that guy… maybe you’re supposed to listen.

Stiles is very unused to listening.

He’s very unused to all of this.

He’s unused to dating, and kissing, and feeling like a teenager again just because of the way that guy sometimes smiles at him.

He’s still a dick though. Derek. Derek is still a dick.

He’s just…

Well, somehow he’s become a dick who matters.

Six months later when someone lights a fire in the dumpster behind Burger King again, Stiles waits a safe distance away and grins as the fire engine pulls up.

“Guess someone woke you up from your beauty sleep, huh?” he yells across the parking lot. “About time!”

It’s a dumpster fire, seriously. Derek lets his crew handle it while he comes and leans on Stiles’s patrol car with him.

“Did you set this fire just to get us out of bed?” he asks.

Stiles jabs him in the ribs. “Fuck you, Derek. Everyone knows it’s firefighters who do that shit, just for the chance to play hero.”

“Uh huh,” Derek agrees. “Look at them. So heroic.”

Boyd and Erica are digging around in the dumpster to make sure the fire’s out.

Stiles snorts. “Hey, you heading back to the station after this?”

Derek nods.

“You need someone to come and tuck you into bed?” Stiles waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe read you a fairytale?”

“Nah.” Derek grins. He straightens up and stretches. “But I kinda want to suck you off in a supply closet.”

Stiles looks at his watch. “My break’s in an hour.”

“I’ll try not to fall asleep in the meantime,” Derek tells him, heading back toward the truck.

“Asshole!” Stiles yells after him.

Derek laughs, and flips him the bird.

It’s not until the firefighters have gone that Stiles sees the paper bag Derek tossed in the open window of his patrol car. He inspects it carefully.

It’s full of donuts.

Fucking asshole.

He takes the donuts back to the station, shares them around, then checks his watch. He’s got a hot date with a firefighter and a supply closet. He’s also got payback to consider.

Yeah. He’s definitely taking his handcuffs.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5875648/chapters/14046873

story time!!

when i was about eleven, my cousin wyatt was maybe three or four and he was the smallest, cutest little boy on the planet. he was pale af and he had blonde hair and blue eyes and a very tiny, melodious voice. he was absolutely adorable. but, with him being so young, he had trouble pronouncing things and saying certain words. one he had a lot of trouble with in particular was the word “truck”. for some reason, in his mind, the ‘tr’ sound kind of sounded like the 'c’ sound and the 'u’ sound kind of sounded like the 'o’ sound.

basically, every time he ever spoke about a truck, he was speaking about a 'cock’.

this served as a running joke at all my family gatherings because he tended to say it a lot. he was obsessed with *cough* trucks and talked about them all the time, considering we lived in the country. my family thought it was hilarious, though, and never tried to correct him.

..here’s where that became a problem.

i went to the gas station once with my aunt and my cousin. my cousin and i went inside the store to grab a drink or a chocolate bar while my aunt filled up the tank. at a gas station, there tend to be a lot of trucks, and (as we lived in the country) the drivers of those trucks tended to be stereotypically exactly what you’d expect.

a man pulls up outside in a big, shiny, red truck and comes into the store. my cousin is mesmerized by the truck outside and decides to go up to the man who owns it. the man is buying a redbull and speaking to the cashier in a husky, gruff voice, wearing a backwards cap and scratching his beer belly. my cousin is less than three feet tall and has light up sketchers and a fucking diego shirt on.

this little, tiny, porcelain doll looking boy goes up to this big, burly, bearded man, interrupting the guys conversation about snow tires, looks him dead in the eye and says in a voice that matches his stature: "i really like your big, shiny, red cock.“

Getting to know the Steroline Shippers 2.0: Part VIII

Based on the survey posted here

Part of the Getting to know the Steroline Shippers Series 2.0

What’s your favorite Steroquote?? 

Ok. So this question is the one I was most excited about. I just think this couple’s quotes are not only beautiful but so powerful. So this time I’m posting the top 11 from least to most votes.

11 (tie). 6x07 Why did I have a thing for you? I don’t know, Stefan. Maybe it’s because I thought you worth having a thing for, because when I woke up as a vampire you told me that I would get through it and I did, because when I watched Elena move on with your brother I couldn’t imagine why she would let anyone like you go, because you were practically my best friend, because I trusted you.

gif credit to vd-gifs

This is a long quote but it is perfection through and through. I love it when characters express why they really love the other with real reasons and not just feelings. This shows anyone that these two are completely right for each other Plus, Caroline showed her vulnerability but also her strength and her character growth. 

11 (tie). 4x03 Come to me, whenever you want and I won’t let you lose control.

gif credit to bloodygifs

This quote shows the beginning of their “best friendship”. I believe what she said was exactly what he needed to hear. With this quote she is accepting him and offering her unwavering help. This quote made her his sober sponsor, confidant and best friend. 

9. 6x16 I like you, Caroline. I don’t know when it become more than friendship but it did. And it scared me so I pushed it away. 

gif credit to wonderlandgirlforever

This quote is completely amazing. And my only response to it is exactly what Caroline said: You finally spit it out! My stupid baby darling Stefan. 

8. (4-way tie) 4x07/4x16 You’re you

gif credit to vd-gifs

I believe one of the most important things in a relationship is mutual admiration. And this quote exemplifies just how highly Caroline thinks of Stefan. I find it very adorable and just once again proves why Stefan is the right guy for her. (Bonus points for Stefan’s face in the second gif)

8. (4-way tie) 5x17 That’s what makes you, you

gif credit to 500-years-of-solitude

I find it very fitting that the same number of people voted for this quote than for the last one. Again, the mutual admiration is completed with this quote. Personally, this is my favorite out of all their quotes. Mainly because what they’re talking about is something so important and rare in that world: their shared respect for life. 

8. (4-way tie) 2x02 I promise you, i will not let anything happen to you.

gif credit to sterolinedipity

This quote is probably their first meaningful quote ever. (Unless you count 1x01 meaningful, which I do-as foreshadowing) Anyway, what’s so poweful about this quote is that it holds true throughout all the seasons. Even in 5x21 where Stefan gave his life for her. I believe this is a very important basis of their relationship; the fact that they would do anything for each other.

8. (4-way tie) 6x14 When you told me you hated me, that was pretty much the worst thing I had heard in a long time……I think we both know I never really hated you.

gif credit to psychopierce

Well this quote kill me every time. It’s like they both said what the other had wanted to hear for so long! Caroline needed to hear that Stefan felt enough for him to actually care so much. Stefan needed to hear that she didn’t hate him because this is something he had been trying to remedy all seasons. It is the perfect quote to lead up to a kiss because it’s what they both were waiting for to take that last step. 

4. 5x04 You have me

gif credit to lovelifelove2013

Stefan being there for Caroline is all I love in this world. This quote is so incredible because even without his memories, Stefan’s only subconscious instinct was to be there for Caroline. Amidst all the confusion, the only thing that was clear for him was that he needed to be there for this girl. 

3. 2x13 You don’t have to pretend with me.

gif credit to careforbesgifs

You know what’s so amazing about this quote? It’s that, throughout the seasons, Stefan’s been the only person that truly accepts Caroline for everything she is; not just what he likes about her. So it is true: she doesn’t have to pretend with him because he knows and loves every single aspect of her. 

2. 6x15  Maybe all love isn’t true love in the messed up way that you and I have experienced it but, I think this could turn into something even better.

gif credit to missdefan

No wonder this is so high up in the list. This moment, in my humble opinion, basically spells out ENDGAME in big red shiny letters. It is amazing to think that after everything Stefan has gone through with Katherine and Elena he still believes that things with Caroline can be something even better. It just goes to show how legitimate and powerful Steroline is. There is no doubt from this moment on. 

1. 4x19 I think that someday, you’ll meet someone new and you’ll fall madly in love, and you’ll have moved on without even realizing it.

gif credit to sterolineforever

It seems we Steroliners love ourselves some foreshadowing. This quote was so beautiful back then but the fact that it basically came true in season 6 makes it much more special. 


These are my opinions about this quotes. 

Reblog and explain why you chose your quote.