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stonenumberone · 1 month

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I'm bloody Crowley! I'm the King of Hell!

#supernaturaledit #spnedit #crowleyedit #deanedit #samedit #spn crowley #winchester brothers #crowley #hello boys #my edits

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vveissesfleisch · 8 days

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Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan Summary:

John was in a mood.

Sometimes he got like this. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he could be a difficult storm to weather.

Gale could often pinpoint the source of these moods easily – the loss of their boys, a mission gone awry, receiving bad news from home – but when he couldn’t, he tried to ride them out by ignoring them until they passed.

This was a tall enough order when they were simply sharing command and quarters, but since the nature of their relationship had finally, finally changed, it had become next to impossible.

This particular mood had endured for the better part of a week, and was now spilling mercilessly into their weekend leave. John was subdued on the train ride to London, chin resting on his hand, pretty blue eyes gazing out the window. He didn’t even try to brush a hand or foot against Gale, a quick promise of closeness to come, and whenever conversation occurred between them, it died as quickly as it had been sparked.

Gale was worried.

Alternatively: 6.6K of idiots in love discovering how to communicate, and possibly some kinks along the way.

#hello boys #i'm back #clegan #buck x bucky #twobucks #john x gale #john egan x gale cleven #gale cleven #john egan #masters of the air #my writing #my fanfic

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fatally-addicted-to-fiction · 2 months

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When "hello boys" becomes "bye boys"

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #crowley supernatural #hello boys

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zaynesaurora · 15 days

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// collecting them one by one like little ken dolls

#secret times—#hello boys

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another-corpo-rat · 1 year

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Not a shippy one this time – but the idea fit the prompt so I ran with it.

Prompts: All Comes Crashing No warnings apply Summary: Jackie Welles has a dead rockerboy in his head, is dying himself, and now a fancy-pressed suit he used to know is looking at him like he’s a damn fool.

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Jackie knows Victoria. He saved her ass a few years back, during an op in Mexico that went tits up real quick. Kept an eye on her when she had to deep-dive in a shitty bathtub in a shitty hotel with no AC, the room still steaming from overheated tech and the heavy weight of the air despite the open window and bath that was more ice than water.

And she got what they needed to save the day and get the hell outta dodge. Credit went to her, of course. The Arasaka agent, not the nameless merc who kept her ass alive through it all.

‘Typical glory-hogs,’ Johnny huffs, voice taking that hard, bitter edge it always got when Arasaka was involved, ‘you spill your blood, they take the credit and you get to consider yourself lucky if they don’t spit in your face afterwards.’

Nah, he thinks. Not Vic. At least not entirely. She made sure his ass got some praise for it, paid him back enough that he didn’t have to worry about his too-many open tabs for a solid eight months. Even offered to wrangle him a place straight into Arasaka’s security training.

“It’s a simple enough job.” She said, tapping her cigarette into the ashtray. “Pays well, and your dear mother won’t have to worry about you coming home dead in a taxi.” And she knew what she was doing, plucking at his heart like that. Playing on the worry he knows his mama lives with, has lived with since he threw his lot in with the Valentinos as a kid.

He considered it, for all of a moment.

“Nah chica,” her eye twitched at the word, “I mean, ma’am- thanks but corpo life wouldn’t really be my thing, y’know?”

“Oh, of course. Who has ever become a legend in Night City by working as a security guard?” He nodded, she sighed, and that was that.

Last he saw her was their conversation in the plaza, below the giant fish, before the heist. She called him an idiot but wished him well. He didn’t expect to see her again.

Not here at least.

Victoria stands out like a sore thumb on the derelict Ebunike, white suit impossibly spotless against the grime. Yet she sits as comfortably as she might do on an office chair, legs crossed, tilted back just enough to appear comfortable. Watching him with a tight, judging expression. Like he was a fool.

He feels like one, that pit in his stomach a familiar thing – has been for a while now, since he watched Saburo get murked by his own son, since he heard T-Bug’s scream in his ear. He should’ve scoped the place out longer, waited for Rogue to get back in touch. Or just take a second to wonder if Smasher might have some extra, discreet security on his super-secret hideout beyond Maelstrom. Like a netrunner.

Sometimes it was hard to tell if the impatience was his own or Johnny’s.

He’d bet his leg on it being Johnny’s right now.

Guy was pacing in a small circle, sneering at the back of Victoria’s head. Somehow getting himself wound up at her lack of reaction, as if she was deliberately ignoring him.

“So, you have the engram of Johnny Silverhand in your head, brain leaking out of your ears, and you both decided that ending a grudge with Smasher would be a good use of your increasingly limited time?”

“Heh. Makes me sound like an idiot when you put it like that, Chica.” Her eye twitches.

“Because you are.” She stares at him hard, eyes narrowed. Used to be that look made him anxious, got him squirming. Now it was as easy to shake off as Rogue’s quiet disapproval. “You’re taking the word of a narcissistic terrorist as truth, for one.”

“I’m not taking his word—” he sits forward, Victoria straightens, eyes flashing in a subtle warning.

‘Easy Jacks, she’s got her finger on the trigger.’ And not of a gun, they both know. A decent netrunner doesn’t need one – and Victoria has long since bragged that she’s beyond decent. He knows himself how hard her quickhacks bite. ‘We do this, you gotta be quick and not so goddamn obvious.’

Right, right.

He relaxes himself back, too forced for it to even appear natural. She doesn’t ease. At all. “I’m not taking his word. Let’s be real, we both know that ain’t worth shit. But I- I’ve lived his memories. I was there when he stormed the tower, when he planted that nuke.” Something changes in her then, a brief raise of her brow, a sharpening in her eyes. “When Smasher pulled the trigger…”

“Then Silverhand lies to himself as much as he does you.”

‘Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. Just pop that bullet into her skull now.’

‘Careful Johnny. You’re making me think she’s got a point.’

‘Her point is to waste our time. Smasher’s not here, we oughta delta, regroup with Rogue and rethink our approach. If you’re gonna puss out on killing her, then at least knock her out.’

‘I’m not—’

“Welles.” Her sharper voice pulls him back, eyes focusing on her. “Do you know what a black-box is? For conversion frames, specifically.”

‘And here she goes, wasting more of our time.’

He ignores the engram, shaking his head in response to the question. She makes a soft little sound and finally lets herself ease back. He can’t tell if she’s really relaxed, or if she’s just better at pretending than he is.

“It’s a recorder. Always on, catching what they do at all times. And largely unalterable, unless they upload it elsewhere for a BD-editor to scroll through, but even then the source footage is still in their records, untouched.”

Something spikes in his head, right where the relic is fixed into his broken slot. A pulse of irritation and dread in a sickening mix that flows to sit heavy in his stomach. And it must show in his face – something in Victoria’s expression has changed, a slight but there lifting of her features. The smile on her lips isn’t pleasant.

“Unlike the worm you have writhing about in your head, Smasher can’t lie about the events of that night – not to himself, and not to anyone else who has seen that footage from its source.”

‘Are you really believing this shit Jacks? Shoot her, draw the bastard out and ask him yourself if you really wanna know-’ A desperate press to Johnny’s voice betrays him, the pause in his pacing, the draw of his brow and the pinch of the cigarette. All telling.

Victoria’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, a quick thing. A snake scenting the air.

“Do you want to see the truth of that night? Or are you going to let a dead man pull you into the grave with him, Welles?”

A buzz rises in his ears, a pull in his gut like a weight threatening to claw up and out. It deafens him to Johnny’s ranting – something he can see as the man returns to pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, arms in the air when he’s not gesturing wildly to the city, to Victoria, to his head.

They’re both liars, Johnny and Victoria. One for pride, the other for fun.

His fingers twitch, jaw clenched to keep that uncomfortable thing in him down.

He just about manages to ground out;

“Show me.”

(In the midst of a raw BD, where his steps are heavier and his voice mechanised, he doesn’t see her eyes aglow with an outgoing call.)

#cyberhanami23 #cyberpunk 2077 #Jackie Welles #johnny silverhand #hello boys #my first time writing either of them #idk how people manage Johnny #it felt like i was having him react too much but not enough at the same time #Victoria Crane #fic tag #my writing

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trenchcoatsbi · 10 months

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