iwtv fanfic Friday: devils minion era (or close enough)
on display by thisisthefamilybuisness aka @officialclaricestarling; E, 3k.
Armand leans back in her chair and smirks. “There’s nobody here to notice if you absolutely must rut yourself against the seam of your slacks, Daniel; this is a private dining room. Given the sorry state of your thoughts, though, perhaps you’d prefer if I took a seat at the bar and sat you in my lap instead. It would only be fair, of course, every patron deserves a chance to see why I spend millions of dollars and so much of my time indulging you.”
i know a place we can go luminoussbeings aka @gaysie; M, 3k.
“—come out with me,” Daniel’s saying, and Armand blinks. “I know a place—better than this one, I’m telling you. Okay, fine, the drinks are terrible, but if you want to go out dancing—you’ll see. You’ll love it. Guarantee ya.” He smiles winningly, holds out his hand.
No, Armand thinks.
or: Daniel sees Armand with blood on his face from a kill, thinks he's just some poor abused twink, and decides he needs to show him a good time
cranefucker island circa ‘82 by katplanet; E, 22k
“You doing all right?” Daniel asks him.
Armand blinks. “No,” he says.
“Most honest you've been with me since I got here,” Daniel says. And then, because it seems like the thing to do, “I can clear out, if you need the place to yourself.”
“Whatever you prefer.” Armand's lips look chapped. Dehydration? He ate the kid with the sunglasses, but the smear he left took a lot of bleach to scrub away. Maybe Daniel should - “You won't be harmed,” Armand says, “regardless of your decision.”
“You got served divorce papers so hard it left a crater,” Daniel says, “and you're still poking around in people's heads.”
little kidnaps in the dark | End OTW Racism by gaypiratedivorce; M, 150k
The first memory is only the first memory, the first crack —after the dam finally breaks, Daniel tries to make sense of the past unraveling itself in his mind. While continuing to thread the story of Louis's life, he attempts to untangle the questions of his own. But Armand offers no answers, and Louis gives him no straightforward ones. As their histories weave together and the line between journalism and personal chronicle disappears from sight, Daniel struggles to figure out who they were then, what they've become, and why exactly he's been summoned to Dubai.
it's a rollercoaster kinda rush by exastris_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis; E, 5k
He writes more over the next three months than he has in the last year, and he even gets paid for some of it. Not as much as before, but, y’know. He can keep his apartment, so it’s not like he’s complaining. He goes to bed early, gets up late, and actually learns how to cook something edible for once in his life. He’s not even using. It’s normal.
It sucks so bad and he’s so fucking lonely.
Daniel gets fired from the San Francisco Chronicle and discovers all roads lead not to Rome, but to Armand.
couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution by extrasis_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis; E, 6k.
When he opens the door, Daniel looks up from his drink. Almost every feature on his face has been changed by the twenty years between them and their last goodbye. Every one, that is, except for his eyes. They’re shielded by handsome-looking wire-frame glasses now, but they’re still as blue and sharp as they were the night they met.
Their eyes lock, and Armand is astonished to discover all at once that he’s still angry. “You must be Mr. Molloy,” he manages through lips nearly numb.
As if he feels nothing at all, Daniel holds out a hand. “Mr. Molloy’s my father. Call me Daniel.”
Armand seeks Daniel out in 2003 and gets quite a bit more than he bargained for.
