A Quote A Day...

I love words & I love stories so this is me sharing my favorite bits of fanfiction. Enjoy! Warning: I have a peculiar sense of humor, read at your own risks. (multifandom) I don't own any of the fics here, and I try to always put the source in the post (if I miss one please don't hesitate to contact me so I can fix it)

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His phone pinged - 'Glad you're unbloodied. Thinking Indian for dinner.' - Grabbing the nearest laptop as he settled in his chair with his tea, he realized it was John’s. No matter, he was just going to check email and scan the news sites while he waited. John’s password was predictable as usual, though the insults he had been choosing lately were amusing. Take this example: ‘UseY0ur)wnY0uC0ck’ – so very John in tone, and he suspected the parenthesis was unintentional though it added a level of complexity that stumped him for almost fifteen minutes.

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"… you are a complete and utter idiot." Isaac says, but he says it fondly, so Stiles isn't too insulted.

"Says the idiot who decided to have a text conversation in front of Derek?" Stiles scoffs. "You know Brooder McBrooderson hates being left out. You're lucky he didn't just break the phone. Or your arm. It's not like we were discussing anything b—"

"An idiot. Clueless. It would be cute if it wasn't so sad." Isaac leans forward and steals the remote from his hand. "I get to choose what we watch."

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“Understatement of the year,” Harry mutters under his breath, smiling. “This is dumb, right? That I drunkenly met some guy three years ago and then I run into him again and I’m about ready to handcuff myself to him.”

He snorts. “Probably dumb.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“You’re gonna go propose to him now, aren’t you.”

“Basically.”

“God speed.”

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“No, I’ll do it,” Steve says. “Team leader. That and you’re busy getting the place actually functional.”

“It’s not being busy when you like doing it,” Tony says.

“I know,” Steve says. “Saving the world’s number one.”

Tony peers at Steve over the rims of his glasses. “Gotta watch out there, Steve. If you’re not careful, you’re going to be stuck with me.”

True to fashion, Steve completely surprises Tony by looking him right in the eye and declaring with heartrending intensity, “Good.”

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"You'd consider fucking you to be an advantage," Silver said.

"You won't be the one doing the fucking," Flint said, and stepped closer, leaning in even as Silver leaned back. "I think you do see it as an advantage. You think that if we are fucking, I might possibly be less inclined to shoot you at my soonest given opportunity."

"I can't say you're being very encouraging," Silver said. For all his protesting and his wariness, he let his knees fall apart for Flint to step between them, let Flint lean his palms on the table and trap Silver where he was.

"That depends on whether or not you're worth my time," Flint said, a barb he knew would hit his mark. Silver might be many things - thief, liar, manipulator, and evidence was stacking up toward sodomite by the minute - but Flint did not think he would abide the implication that he was a poor fuck.

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Derek mumbles something that sounds like “Douchecanoe,” which is apparently the name of the Alpha in front. He’s slightly older than the others, with a heavy brow and a slight, ominous-looking smile. He also has an air of being in charge.

“Douchecanoe?” Stiles mouths to Scott, who widens his eyes and shrugs back.

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On the face of it, volunteering to marry Nightingale wasn’t the craziest thing I’d done for the job. By my rough ranking it might not even crack the top five; it didn't involve any imminent danger of death. Handing myself over to the fairy Queen in Herefordshire had definitely ranked higher, for starters. But I’d been trusting Nightingale to save me from that one, and this one was me saving Nightingale. He’d tried to argue me out of it, very politely, on all the obvious grounds. I’d told him I would be happy to cede the honour if he explained how he was going to get out of this otherwise. When he hadn’t given me any alternatives, I’d told him in that case he could learn to like it, because he could definitely do worse. The fact that he’d agreed with me on the last had been weirder than the rest of it put together.

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Once the dust had settled, Sherlock slipped down the side of the now destroyed aircraft, pulling a pair of aviator goggles off over his head as he went.

“That’s one way to arrive,” John said.

“Sherlock, look what you’ve done to my bloody wall!” Mrs Hudson cried. And, as an afterthought, “Is that my dress?”

Sherlock lifted his skirt as he stepped over the rubble. “Your dress I’ll concede, but what do you mean your wall?”

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Derek doesn't roar or shout anymore with his throws, but he chucks rock after rock across the lake with an unwavering look of hard determination. Meanwhile Stiles starts getting creative with his yelling. He hollers, yodels, even throws in a wolf howl, at which Derek snaps his head over, eyes wide like Stiles just hollered profanities in wolf-language. That one makes a few dogs bark from the residential area again, and Stiles barks back at them. Because why not.

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"Shit," Eggsy mutters and then looks back at the laptop, thinking, wondering, trying to figure out what Harry might've picked out as a password.

It takes him a moment to notice that the login screen has changed – and instead of the insert password there's a different bit of text there. Come along.

Eggsy gapes at it for a moment in disbelief, and then, slowly, starts typing again. Fuck you.

And the damn thing unlocks, text of, Hello Eggsy, flashing briefly at him. And Eggsy's just fucking charmed by it. Charmed and ever so slightly awed that the fucking man had somehow seen this coming. Had fucking prepared for it. Jesus Christ.

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“Urgh! This is awful. Can't you- I don't know, use your Jedi mind powers to find out if he likes me or not?”

“You're asking me to use the Force, an ancient and mystical power which pervades all things and which I have been very strictly told should be used for matters of grave importance only while I'm still not fully trained, to... find out if Poe likes you?”

“Yes?”

Rey grins, “Great, let's do it!”

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His mind returned to the man seated behind him. A man feared by so many, seen as a tyrant and monster by pirates and civil men alike. A man to whom he had pledged his loyalty and his heart. A man who was currently -

“What the fuck?!” Silver reached back to touch his hair where Flint had been absentmindedly toying with the curls. “How the fuck does the most notorious pirate captain in the New World learn to do a plaited chignon?”

Flint slowly returned from whatever reverie he had entered and laughed at the shocked expression on Silver’s face.

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“I'll see you in twenty.” Derek's voice was rough and words were choked on his fangs. He could feel hair expanding over his forehead and encroaching his eyebrows. He braced himself against the hood of the car, breathing deeply to regain control of himself.

“The hospital is forty minutes away.” Stiles said weakly.

“Twenty, Stiles.” Derek hung up and climbed in the Camaro, stepping on the gas and speeding towards the hospital.

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Nightingale was stalking to the door less like a panther and more like a house cat drugged up on cat nip. But when he finally rested a hand against the wall to steady himself I did some stalking of my own.

“You're in no fit state to...” I began to hiss in a whisper.

“I'm your boss,” Nightingale interrupted, standing up straight. “And you are in no fit state to...”

“Then we'll be in no fit state together,” I interrupted him.

Nightingale looked like he was on the verge of pulling his hair out, but then he nodded and practically smiled. “Very well. Together?”

I nodded, but manoeuvred myself so that I was in front nevertheless. I didn't hear Nightingale's eyes roll, but it was a close call.

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He stood also, just in time to see the bride and groom grinning like fools and walking back down the aisle, hand in hand. The service was over, and the veritable platoon of groomsmen and bridesmaids were trooping out two by two to the strains of ‘Ode to Joy’ being butchered by the organist in the gallery. Marjorie went by on the arm of a strapping young usher, glaring daggers at Sherlock as she passed. He smiled beatifically at her and put his own arm around John, who looked up at him and smiled. (Holmes one, Step-Whatsit nothing.)

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Once again, Derek found himself surprised. Stiles, by his core nature, was a provider. A caregiver. Someone who loved and protected. Derek had seen it day in and day out. It’s what Stiles excelled at. It was who he was. But at the same time, there was a fury there that defied explanation. When pressed, when backed against a wall, Stiles became a hurricane. An immutable force of nature that leveled forests and ravaged continents. He was the type of man who would tear God from his throne. If only for the pleasure of it. And it scared the hell out of Derek. In a very good way.

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Time zones are a bitch—E Sent 11:53 PM I’ve landed in London—E Calling a cab now—E I’ll see you tomorrow darling—E Sent 4:15 AM

Of course you had to follow it up—A You just had to let reality seep in to the moment didn’t you?—A I’ve landed in Dublin—A Sent 6:00 AM I think I hate Paris—A Sent 11:00 AM

You don’t hate Paris—E You hate the French—E Sent 11:06 AM

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